About a Common Whore - 5
Good Intentions
Previously
5
Ramesh had always been fond of Roli. When he had asked her to run away with him, he wasn’t sure that that evening will ever happen. He didn’t ask her to come with him because he wanted to turn her into a whore, to sell her so that he could make a profit on the side.
The first night they had slept on the bed together, Ramesh had fallen asleep in peace, after a very long time. She didn’t have to do anything to make that happen. Her presence by his side was enough. Ramesh had looked at the back of her head, the curve of her waist in her kurta, and had fallen asleep, thinking how peaceful all of it was.
When he would wake up in the morning, and Roli would give him tea, he would feel like a man. Not being he was being served by a girl, but because that room in the chawl felt like a home finally. He loved seeing Roli’s face first thing in the morning, Roli being the first person he would talk to.
He didn’t express much of it, because he couldn’t. He wasn’t afraid or shy — in his profession those things had no place. He was plainly incapable of expressing that side to him.
Ramesh grew up in Dharavi too. Just like Roli, his parents had died at a young age too. But, unlike Roli, he didn’t even have a roof over his head. His earliest memory of childhood was collecting trash around the Bandra station so that he could buy a vada pav, which would be his breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
He scrapped through life, day by day. He didn’t like to think much about his childhood, but whenever he did, he wondered whether he was better then or now. He was about 15, when he got his first proper job — as a cleaner at Lucky’s Restaurant. He would show up early in the morning and would clean plate after plate, for a measly sum of money. The guy who ordered him around was kind enough to allow him to sleep in the cleaning area at night. And there was always leftover food to eat.
The last three years of Ramesh’s adolescence were the same days on repeat. Wake up early, wash the plates, clean the tables, broom the place, mop the place, and keep doing it till the day came to an end.
He made some money, but it was never enough to afford a place to live outside of the hard floors of the restaurant kitchen.
He had two friends then — Ganesh and Vijay. They were more of comrades in a platoon, fighting life, trying to save themselves, one landmine at a time. Ganesh told him that they could make some money on the side by cleaning cars in a society nearby. There were plenty of cars there, and all they had to do was talk to the security guard.
The security guard, was, well, an asshole. He asked for a cut of ₹100 for each of the cars that they washed. That was one-third of what they were expected to get. There was no room for negotiation. The societies in Bandra have tall gates, and he was the gatekeeper. Ramesh and his friends agreed to give the guard a cut.
Shortly after his eighteenth birthday, Ramesh took up another job. Every morning at 6 AM, Ramesh, Vijay, and Ganesh would wake up, and reach the society, to clean 5 cars each. They made ₹1500 each from that. It was hard to fall asleep around 1 AM and wake up at 6 AM and then come back to the restaurant and clean. But Ramesh did that. He did that because he knew that whatever money he was making, would be useful later.
Ramesh would wash and clean 3 cars. Two of them were always parked in the same location, sometimes, their wipers raised just the way he had left them the last time he’d cleaned. But the third car was irregular. Some days it won’t be there at all, and the other days, it would come when Ramesh was cleaning the other cars.
The Seth was a nice guy. He looked intimidating, taller than Ramesh, bigger than him, but when he talked, he had a sweet voice, almost feminine. He would smile and nod at him, something that even the restaurant manager never did. He would always be dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, always busy typing away something on his phone, as he got out of his BMW. But he’d always acknowledge Ramesh.
Ramesh’s irregular car-wala Seth was Jitendra. Jitendra was rich, by all definitions of the word. He came from old money. He was 32 when Ramesh had first seen him getting off his shiny black BMW early morning. Jitendra was coming back from a night of whoring and getting high from all sorts of things that Bombay can offer.
Jitendra’s grandfather, a stoic man, and a man of vision had created what could be called a textile empire. They made shirts, which were sold in rural and semi-rural towns of Maharashtra and Gujrat. By the time Jitendra’s father took over the business, it was on auto-pilot. Jitendra had an older brother, Virendra. Virendra had always been the more responsible one and was the natural successor of their father.
Jitendra was 28 when their father passed away. After a month of mourning, Virendra called him to his home office and asked him to make something of his life.
Till that point in his life, Jitendra had spent all the time and money he got on women, drugs, and alcohol. He loved cocaine. He loved fucking women when high on cocaine, when his erection felt harder than usual. He loved making them scream, in pain and pleasure. And he loved buying them ridiculously expensive lingerie and even more expensive sex toys.
So, when his brother called him and asked him to make a life for himself, he was a little tired. The night before, he was out all night, high on coke, with two girls, who were barely out of college. They had taken turns riding his dick and his face. Jitendra kept rubbing his nose when his brother laid out the financial support he’d be getting.
“Are you understanding what I am saying?” Virendra had asked in frustration.
Jitendra nodded.
Virendra sighed, and said, “Just don’t do anything that affects our name. I have asked Kulkarni uncle to make the Bandra flat in your name. It should be —”
“I will live alone there?” Jitendra asked, having always lived in a large family villa.
“Yes, and —”
Jitendra didn’t remember the rest of the conversation.
The first evening, in his own flat, Jitendra was sitting alone. A large flat, by Bombay standards, decorated with the best things that money could buy, but alone. To celebrate his newfound “freedom”, he had opened a large bottle of Glenlivet and had two thick lines of coke laid out on his coffee table.
After the first line, he called Ritu Bhai. Ritu Bhai, well, he was sort of his friend. Jit knew him through another friend, but they had sat down to drink many a time, mostly talking about the best sort of coke and heroin that was available in the city, and sometimes about all the kinds of things Ritu Bhai made his whores do for him.
Ritu bhai was, there’s no delicate way to say this, a harem master. It wasn’t his primary business, but he took pride in the kinds of whores he could offer. The price was steep, but he catered to all sorts of desires.
He had, time and again, asked Jit if he needed one to warm his bed, and Jit had always turned him down politely. Jit was handsome and polished enough to get women without paying for them. At least not directly. An expensive restaurant for a date, a chauffeur-driven BMW car for a ride, and later a room at the Taj (the old one) to hook up — these needed money, probably much more than a whore would take. But it had a thrill to it, an illusion of conquest. And if there’s one thing that Jitendra liked more than fucking was a good conquest.
That evening, alone, after snorting his first line of coke and downing a large glass of whisky, Jit called Ritu Bhai because he didn’t have a date lined up. And he didn’t want to be alone.
It was a quick conversation. Jitendra said that he wanted a girl, and he wanted the experience to be special.
Jitendra was in no condition to drive, but he didn’t want his chauffeur to know where he was going. So, he called an Uber. It was around 10 PM when left his flat, a little drunk and coked up.
The traffic was sparse, and it was an uncharacteristically short ride to Byculla. It was raining slightly that evening, the usual August drizzle. Jitendra had rolled the windows down to smoke a cigarette, and kept his hand out, feeling the little pricks of rain on his palm.
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It was a modest room, not really a chawl, but not really a flat. It had a decent bed though, a thick mattress and a dark red bedsheet. Ritu Bhai wasn’t present himself, but his henchman was. Raju was younger then, his hair thicker and curlier, and his gut was smaller but still redoubtable. He had welcomed Jit with a broad smile and had offered him a glass of cheap whisky.
Jit had accepted it gladly, and dunked it down.
“Where’s the girl?” Jitendra had asked.
Raju smiled again and walked to a closed door. It wasn’t a full room. It was, what builders in Bombay call a 0.5 room, a room to store things, a room to make your puja ghar, a room, to stow away anything that you don’t really need.
Raju opened the door to the room and brought a girl.
Jit had slept with countless women by then. But he had never felt the kind of erection that he felt then.
“Her name is Suchi,” Raju said. He had held her by her arms.
Jit was seated on the sofa, with a cigarette in his hand, and a refill of cheap whisky. And in front of him, Suchi stood, in a tight white tee shirt and a panty.
Jit could tell that she wasn’t wearing a bra because he could see the outline of her nipple through the tee shirt. The tee shirt was probably two sizes too tight for the girl. It didn’t just hug her body, it squeezed it. The tee shirt ended just above the waistband of her panty. It was a simple panty, pink, no frills.
She was looking down, at her feet, as Raju was telling Jit about her.
“This will be her first time. Ritu Bhai asked the best for you. I hope he has mentioned that she would cost —”
“Don’t worry about the cost,” Jit had said, adjusting himself, to give room to his erection.
Suchi had short curly hair. It wasn’t as maintained of course, like the girls Jit was to used to fucking, but it was beautiful. She was looking down when she was brought in the room, by her arms. But the silhouette of her face was beautiful.
“I had to do this because tonight she was a little moody,” Raju jerked her arms.
That’s when Jit saw it. Her wrists were tied together, by a rough rope. She winced when Raju showed Jitu that, never lifting her gaze. Her breasts jiggled when being handled that way.
Jitu had to touch his dick when he saw that.
“Okay, go,” he told Raju.
“But sir —”
“Meet me in the morning, now leave,” Jitendra said firmly.
Raju left shortly after.
“My name is Jit,” he said, after Raju closed the door behind.
There was no response from Suchi. She just stood there, in her panty and the tight tee shirt, her wrists tied behind her back, looking down.
Jit sighed and said, “Is this really your first time?”
Suchi looked up and gave an almost imperceptible nod.
Jitendra took out the tin box in which he kept his coke. He poured some of it on the dirty table in front of him and made two thin lines with his card. He snorted both of them and laid his head back.
“Come here,” he said.
When Suchi didn’t move, Jit got up from the sofa and walked up to the door. He locked the door, by putting the latch up.
“You know, you cannot get out of here till I am done with you, and it won’t end well for you if I don’t have fun,” he said.
When she didn’t move even then, Jit did something that he will come to love. He walked up to her, and slapped her. She winced in pain and stepped away, only to be jerked forward by Jit, and slapped again. Suchi tried to turn her face away, but Jit held her face by the chin, and slapped her again.
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If you thought that Roli’s first time was difficult, Suchi’s first time was horrible. Jit was a man of pleasure. And for such men, it doesn’t matter at what cost the pleasure came.
He had made Suchi suck him, with her hands still tied behind. She had to kneel on the rough floor, while Jit fucked her face. She tried to pull away, but with her hands tied behind her, all she could do was protest. Her protests were muffled, by Jit’s hard dick in her mouth.
Once he had enough of her face, he dragged her by her long hair, ignoring her cries, and threw her in the bed. He had made her kneel on the bed and pushed her forward. With her hands tied behind, Suchi had fallen on her face. Jit had steadied by holding the sides of her waist and had peeled her panties down.
Suchi’s panties were around her knees when Jit shoved his dick inside her.
He didn’t bother to wear a condom. And she had felt a raw hard dick, inside her for the very first time, her shoulders sore from being tied behind.
That night, as Jit fucked Suchi from behind, he had slapped her ass cheeks. Suchi didn’t understand what she was doing wrong to be slapped that way. She had buried her face in the mattress, her vision red because of the dark red bedsheet, and had taken Jit’s dick inside her.
After Jit came inside her, he stepped back, and she had fallen on her side. She had used her legs to move away from him, only to see him laugh.
He had walked to the side of the bed, where Suchi had tried to run away and had gripped her neck, “It’s a long night,” he had said, squeezing her neck, and rubbing his softening dick on her face, still sticky with his cum.
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Jit did her thrice that night, his dick harder than usual, with lines of coke helping his hard-on. He never bothered to untie her. When Jit was tired enough to fall asleep he placed Suchi between his legs and asked her to lick his balls, until he fell asleep. He had put his legs on her back, as she was licking his balls.
In the morning, around 6 AM, when Raju knocked on the door, Jit was deep in sleep.
“Sir…” Suchi had said, her first word the entire night.
When Jit hadn’t responded, she had pressed his crotch with her face. Suchi had spent the entire night between his legs, unable to sleep even a little, her face, always near his flaccid dick.
Jit had eventually woken up and realized the time. He had groggily opened the door, forgetting to put his pants back on. It was still dark outside.
Raju had looked down at his dick, and said, “Is it over sir?”
Jit had looked down at his cock. It was still hard.
“One more time,” he had said, turning away and walking to the bed. Raju entered the room and sat on the couch. Jit had pulled Suchi to the bed, spread her legs, and rubbed his dick on her slit. When Jit entered her the fourth time, to calm his dick down one last time, Suchi cried out loud, more in pain than pleasure, her pussy and body sore from being tied and fucked all night.
Raju watched Jit as he closed his eyes, and fucked Suchi till he came, his balls having little cum left.
After that night, Jitendra became a regular. Suchi didn’t require being tied down again. He would come to the same place and would fuck Suchi, night after night, high on coke, sometimes on Tadalafil. With her hands-free, Suchi would sometimes ruffle his hair. She even learned to smile when she was being fucked hard and called a dirty slut. She would call him sir, and he would slap her whenever and wherever he wanted to.
Whenever Raju came the next morning, Suchi was left bruised, fresh bruises over the old ones.
When Suchi wasn’t enough, Jitendra asked Raju to get another girl. Suchi stayed in the room, while she watched Jitendra fuck another whore. It was her first time too. Her hands weren’t tied, but Jitendra had asked Suchi to pin her arms down as he fucked her.
And when women weren’t enough, Jitendra asked for a man’s tight asshole. Raju had just the guy in mind.
A slender, delicate boy, so fair, that if you pinch his face to hard, he would bleed. Amir wasn’t gay, but he was short on cash. He had always been pretty. When Raju asked him if he was willing to get his ass fucked for a good sum of money, he didn’t give it a long think.
He had agreed. Jit wasn’t a gentleman, and he had fucked Amir hard, almost ignoring the fact that it was a tight asshole and not a tight pussy. He had asked Amir to lick Suchi’s pussy while he fucked him. Suchi had enjoyed that. Nobody licked a whore’s pussy. Except for other whores. Amir’s dick stayed soft all along, and Jit loved dominating a man who wasn’t hard. He had finished inside Amir, before asking Suchi to such Amir’s dick.
He had smoked a cigarette, as he watched his favorite whore, Suchi, suck Amir. Amir was standing, and Suchi was on her knees. Amir’s back was towards Jit. He could see his cum dripping down Amir’s thigh, as he got his dick sucked.
Amir fucked her well, so well, that Jit was hard again. He fucked Suchi, immediately after Amir was done with her. And Suchi, a practiced whore by then, showed how much she more she enjoyed Jit more than Amir.
When Jitendra first saw Ramesh, his new car washer, he was intrigued by the boy. Ramesh had a fierceness and determination in his eyes, which he admired. But above all, Jit was bored. He was bored of fucking anyone and everyone he wanted to.
So, one morning, when he was returning from a foursome with Suchi, Amir and Saniya (a eunuch, but more on her later) and saw Ramesh cleaning the car, he decided to make things more interesting, maybe do a good thing for a poor guy.
“What do you do after 9 PM?” he had asked Ramesh.
“Sir?” Ramesh was caught off guard by the sudden question.
“If you are not doing anything important, be outside the gate, at 9 PM tonight. Dress well. We will go somewhere,” Jitendra had said.
“Sir? But where?”
“Somewhere. I think you will like it,” Jitendra started walking away.
Ramesh had many questions, but he didn’t dare to ask them.
That evening, at 9 PM, Ramesh stood outside the society gate, in the cleanest shirt he owned. He had showered too.
Shortly, Jitendra pulled up in his car, a car that Ramesh washed every day. Ramesh had started to get in the backseat, only to hear Jitendra laugh, “I am not your driver, sit in the front,” he had said.
That night, Ramesh was introduced to a world that he had only heard of. He met Suchi, who was already naked by the time they arrived. He met Amir, who was in his underwear, trying to find a comfortable way to sit with his new stone studded anal plug inside him, and met Raju, who wasn’t very friendly, but he gave him a drink and asked Ramesh if he wanted to eat something. Ramesh was usually the one who asked those questions.
After Jit was done with Suchi, he asked Ramesh if he wanted to have sex. Suchi had given him a sultry look, and spread her legs for him. Ramesh wasn’t hard, but he was too scared to say no. So, he had nodded. Amir had pulled Ramesh’s pants down, and Suchi had licked Ramesh’s cock till he was hard.
Ramesh didn’t know that it was important to wear a condom. So, he fucked Suchi raw, her pussy still slippery with Jit Seth’s cum.
When he kissed Roli on the lips, to calm her down, while she was getting fucked by Amir, Ramesh wanted to calm her. He liked her a lot and wanted good things for her. Just like Jitendra wanted good things for Ramesh.
The man, who was fucking Roli furiously, even after all these years bent over for Jitendra; still winced in pain when he got his ass stretched by a thick anal plug that Jitendra liked his men to wear. Ramesh wished he could tell Roli about who Amir really was.
Ramesh wished he could tell Roli, that the man who was hungrily biting her nipples, was routinely made to kneel in front of Jitendra Seth. Jitendra liked to piss on people, and Raju was the reluctant volunteer. Jit liked to piss on Raju because he loved how Raju’s mouth looked when he opened it for him, but his yellow teeth contrasted against his dark skin. Jit loved to see the disgust but the eagerness to smile for him.
Those men, who were using Roli’s body, for the very first time, wanted the same thing that she wanted — freedom. Was it unfair to let Roli be the way they claim a modicum of autonomy? That Roli be used the same way they were used? Maybe not.
But, Ramesh had good intentions.
Roli moved her hands from Raju’s head, giving up any hope of ever being able to push his mouth away from her breasts. She moved her head, straining under Raju’s grip. She moved her mouth, to return the kiss from Ramesh.
Ramesh broke the kiss and looked at her. He held her hand and leaned back down to kiss her again. Deeper that time. He really wanted to tell her that he had good intentions, that he truly believed that something good will come from all this suffering, that her 18-year-old nubile body was being made to endure.
Since the time when Amir entered her, it was the first time that she could relax her legs. With her lips locked to Ramesh’s Roli could finally let her lower body relax, to feel a hard dick inside the way it was meant to be felt. To feel like a woman. To feel like a thing to desire for.
That evening, after Amir finished inside Roli, he had taken off his condom in front of her. She saw the sticky cum that was rolling inside the condom. She saw how the surface of the condom shined from her own juices.
Raju was quick to enter her. He climbed on top of her, his crushing weight pining Roli in place. Ramesh had moved from kissing and caressing her cheeks to caressing her breasts. Unlike Raju, Ramesh’s touch was gentle. He would rub his thumb across her nipples, sending currents around her nipples.
As Raju fucked her, she felt his strong thrusts reverberate through her body. She closed her eyes and imagined it was Ramesh who was on top of her, gently caressing her nipples as he fucked her. Raju’s thrusts became less and less painful as Roli kept getting wetter, deep in her imagination.
She came that night, and her clients loved seeing her shiver, in pleasure. Making a whore cum is a feat, and the men loved it.
Later that night, when everybody was gone, Roli lied in the bed, curled up and quiet. Ramesh was in the sole chair in the room, smoking cigarettes. He texted Suchi, “It went well.”
“You should have given her to sir. Instead you gave her to those losers,” Suchi texted back.
Ramesh looked at Roli in the bed in front of him. She had covered herself with sheet, to hurt and tired to wear her clothes back on. The bedsheet traced the outline of her once innocent young body.
“He would have broken her,” Ramesh replied.
“She is broken anyway. We all are,” Suchi replied.
Ramesh smiled, and shook his head. He loved Suchi. He had loved Suchi for years. He wished he could someday tell her that he loved her, before it was too late.
His phone pinged again. “I will go now. Sir would be on his way. I need to take my shot,” Suchi replied.
“Don’t overdo it, like last time,” Ramesh replied.
There were no replies. Ramesh kept his phone away, and smoked the remaining of his cigarette.
When he got in bed, he caressed Roli’s shoulder. She flinched. He let her be. He laid on his back, looked at the ceiling, and wondered about all the things that kept him awake at nights.
To Be Continued
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