LONDON

The plane arrived late at London Heathrow. We circled the city for an hour before finally touching down at 1.30pm.

I walked out into the main building of Terminal Five with the plastic box hanging heavily from my hand. I felt tired from the flight. I went to the information desk and was directed to the “Connections” counter. The girl there - blonde with pale skin and a wide appealing mouth - told me there was not a direct connection to Bratislava. She looked at my note from Acme Couriers and passed it back to me with a shrug. The best she could do, she said, was a flight to Vienna and from there, she suggested, I take the train!

I couldn’t believe it! I looked at the ticket wallet the man at Acme Couriers had pressed into my hand when I had left San Francisco. I had not looked in it since I had handed over my ticket in San Francisco. There was an envelope inside it. I opened it. On a note was written an address and the message: “Please make you own arrangements from London. This should cover it”. Thirty ten dollar bills were pinned to the note. I swallowed hard. My first thought was to leave the box right there, in the middle of the terminal and just go. Then I thought I’d probably be arrested for abandoning a suspicious package, and then I realised that if I didn’t get to the address with the box then I wouldn’t get enough money to travel any further. And my fee for delivering the box would, I imagined, be more than three hundred dollars.

‘Have you made up your mind?’ asked the blonde haired girl behind the counter as she twisted her hair in a curl around her pencil. ‘There are others waiting, you know.’

‘Yes, of course. A single ticket to Vienna. Will this cover it?’

‘I’m afraid there’s only one flight a day to Vienna. And you’ve missed today’s. The next flight is tomorrow at ten am, from this terminal. You’ve got a bit of a wait.’ She held out my ticket and looked down the queue behind me. ‘Next, please.’

I took the ticket and wandered off across the terminal. It was cavernous and overpowering. What was I going to do until ten o’clock the following morning? Everyone seemed to be going somewhere except me. I stared at some posters on a display board in front of a shop selling luggage. One in particular caught my eye: “Visit Hampton Court. Home of Henry VIII”. ‘Why not?’ I thought. The palace of a king! That should occupy me for a few hours at least.

I struggled with the box to the taxi rank. It seemed to be weighing me down - it was as if it was getting heavier every time I picked it up!

‘How much to Hampton Court?’

‘That’ll be thirty five pounds to you, dearie.’

‘How much in dollars?’

‘Now, let me see. Yes, seventy dollars would just about do it.’

I looked at my cash - not enough.

‘Sorry, I’m a bit short. Sorry. I’ll take a bus.’

‘How much short?’

‘Well, to be honest, I can only afford about ten dollars, well, nine actually.’

The driver got out and opened the rear door.

‘What’s in the box, dearie?’

‘I don’t know. What it says, I suppose.’

I held it up to show him.

‘Wow! “HUMAN ORGAN”! I think you definitely need a lift. Hampton Court was it?’

‘But I haven’t got enough money.’

‘Don’t worry about that, dearie. I’m sure we can come to some arrangement. Don’t you think?’

‘Yes, I’m sure we can.’

I settled back into the sumptuous brown leather seat of the black taxi cab. I thought of how many others had sat here before me - how many bare bottoms had pressed against the shiny surface, how many cunts had squirmed down and moistened its ribbed corrugations.

He couldn’t take his eyes off my knees. I tapped them with my hands, as though I was thinking of a tune in my head. I ran one of my fingers between them - just enough to open them so that the tip could slip in. My skin felt soft and smooth. I ran my fingertip around the insides of my knees - the light contact made me shiver.

I watched his eyes in the driving mirror - fixed entirely on what I was doing as I ran my fingertips up between my thighs. My skirt was short and barely covered my cunt. I took my finger up to its hem. He adjusted the mirror so that he could see more clearly. I lifted the hem slightly - just enough to show him the slit of my cunt. I opened my knees a little to ensure he had a good view of its narrow glistening crack.

The taxi slowed down in traffic then stopped. We were in a busy shopping street - held up by road works. People walked past - some shopping, some going to or coming from work, some sightseeing. A man peered into the taxi. I didn’t stop what I was doing. The driver leant over the back of the seat and peered. He didn’t say anything - just stared, wide eyed and engrossed.

Someone knocked on the window. A muffled voice shouted to the driver.

‘I need to get to Kingston. Would your fare like to go halves?’

The driver wound down the window.

‘Yes, mate. I think she might,’ he said still not taking his eyes off me

The man peered in. I didn’t even think of stopping. I opened my knees wider, exposing my cunt fully to him. I ran my finger along the wet slit - it was smooth and silky; the touch of its wetness sent a thrill through my hands and wrists. I tightened my buttocks as another surge of pleasure rose up between my thighs and this time penetrated my anus. As soon as I felt it, I opened my legs wider - I had no choice. I licked my lips then bit onto them. I felt the sharp ends of my canine teeth pressing down against their soft flesh.

The man opened the door and got in beside me. He was dressed in a dark business suit. He put his briefcase down in front of us, next to my plastic box. My heart was pounding. It was so exciting - being watched by the driver, and now a stranger, and not knowing what was going to happen next.

The man in the suit adjusted his tie - easing the strain of the tight collar around his neck. My hand was still between my legs. I drew it away, suddenly embarrassed by a realisation of my situation. My fingers were wet and glistened in a shaft of sunlight that came in through the taxi window.

‘What have you been doing then?’ asked the man.

I looked down and felt my cheeks burning.

‘Enjoying yourself, by the look of it.’

I folded my arms and hid my wet hand from view.

‘Though it’s a bit naughty displaying yourself like this, in a taxi, so that anyone can see you. Don’t you think? A bit naughty? Putting yourself on show so that anyone can see you - what you’re doing?’

I didn’t know what to say.

‘A bit,’ I muttered, still feeling desperately embarrassed.

‘Yes, quite. Letting the taxi driver leer at you - see you - and then letting me do the same. Naughty, don’t you think?’

‘I suppose,’ I said. ‘Yes, I suppose.’

‘I think some punishment is needed. Perhaps not too much, but enough to remind you that this sort of behaviour is inappropriate.’

His admonishment was so straightforward. He had only just got into the taxi, I didn’t know who he was. He had no reason to take me to task and certainly no reason to think he could punish me, but still it seemed right somehow. I wanted him to tell me how he wanted to position me, what he wanted to do to me. I wanted to find out how much punishment he thought I should have, how much I would be allowed to scream out, how much of my pain he would allow me to release. I looked at him and bit my lips hard.

‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘Here, bend over my knee. The best thing for you, I believe, is a sound spanking.’

My heart leapt at the thought. A spanking from a stranger, in a taxi travelling through the streets filled with people all of whom could look inside at any time and see what was happening to me.

I bent over his knees without any further question. He lifted my skirt. Straightaway I could tell he was annoyed. It was the way he sighed and tensed, I think - but it was obvious he was angry. I think it was because I had no panties on. Perhaps he thought it was shameless or immodest - I don’t know.

He lifted my hips so that my bottom was raised. He told me to let my arms and head hang down freely. He said I could rest my hands on the floor. If I squirmed, he said, I would receive more, and they would be harder as well.

He started straightaway - a sudden hard smack. It stung terribly. I gasped. It was really hard. He smacked me again - this time even harder. My eyes widened and I gasped again. Another hard smack followed, and another. I couldn’t keep still. I reached my hands back, stupidly trying to stop him, stupidly trying to prevent him from carrying out my punishment. He knocked my hands away and smacked me even harder for trying to prevent him. From then on it was relentless - smack followed smack, stinging pain followed stinging pain. I squirmed and fought against him, but nothing stopped him. I couldn’t stand it - it was too much, too sudden, too painful, too deliberate - but he wouldn’t stop.

I threw my head back, still trying to avoid his blows, but he was too strong and held me too firmly across his knees. I saw figures outside the taxi - faces staring in. People were looking at what was going on - ogling me, seeing my bottom tipped over my punisher’s knees, watching his spanking hand thrashing me so hard, seeing the cheeks of my buttocks reddened and smudged with the bruising he was inflicting on me.

I know I was shouting for him to stop - screaming I think - but it only ended when he decided it would, and that was longer than I could ever have imagined.

I felt the taxi stop, I saw more faces at the window. I felt myself being pushed from his knees onto the floor. For a few seconds I lay at his feet - depleted and racked with pain and humiliation. I struggled onto the seat. I couldn’t sit down, my bottom was too sore.

A wad of money dropped by the side of me.

‘That should cover my half of the fare I think.’

As he left and closed the door behind him, I counted the money. It was £200!

Hampton Court was beautiful - the sun shone on its mellow, red bricked turrets, the golden crosses on their tops glistened and twinkled like stars, its massive chimneys heaved up into the sky like the cores of long eroded volcanoes. Opening times were ten until six - I could spend the whole day here! I waited at the gate while the handsome young guide for a group of giggling Japanese girls discussed the entrance fees. The distraction was sufficient for me to push in behind them without being seen. My nine dollars was still intact, and so was my £200!

I walked beneath the high beamed roof of the medieval Great Hall. A guard pushed me back when I touched one of the huge tapestries which hung from the walls - endless depictions of hunting scenes and amorous lovers cradled in each other’s arms. Their stale linen scent stuck to my fingers.

The Japanese group came in noisily, flashing their cameras and chattering excitedly amongst themselves. The guide - a handsome young man - held a Japanese flag on a stick. Whenever he called out to his charges he waved the stick and they all gathered around him like cheeping chickens. They all wore short red and black tartan skirts, loose leather belts, white shirts and red scarves pulled into toggles at their necks. Two in particular caught my eye - a little different from the rest. They held onto each other’s arms - one with red spiky hair, the other with black hair spiked in the same way, black lipstick and a silver ring in her nose. These two had black leather boots loosely crumpled around their ankles and white socks that were pulled up to just below their knees. Both of them smiled demurely at me before each pointing their toes together and looking down to the ground with slightly flushed cheeks. Some of the others giggled at them. They were entrancing. I was captivated by them and couldn’t stop myself from following them.

For a while they walked arm in arm alongside the rest of the group but, touching the surfaces of tables with their fingers, or stopping to look at painting hung on the walls, they slowly drifted apart from the others. In the end, they separated themselves completely. Checking that no one could see them, they stepped into a narrow entrance leading off the main room. I hung back until I knew they had gone in far enough so that I would be able to follow them without them seeing me.

When I thought it was safe, I followed them into the darkness. It smelled musty and damp. As my eyes slowly became used to the darkness, I saw several full sized statues lined up along one side of a narrow corridor. I stood in front of one - a knight in armour with a sword hanging at an angle from a scabbard at his belt. They looked creepy - all that attention, unmoving, heavy and stiff. Ahead, I could see the two girls giggling and chattering. The sound of their excited voices echoed against the heavy stonework of the walls. I saw their profiles silhouetted against the light ahead - slim shadowy creatures, their spiky hair sticking out at random angles from their heads like sharp, stiff fingers.

They clutched each other’s cheeks in their hands and kissed. I watched them pulling their small cherub-like mouths close, locking their eager lips, pressing their small firm breasts against each other, rising up pleasurably in each other’s keen embrace. The one with the red hair, I think, ran her hand up the other’s thigh - lifting her short skirt, revealing her tight white panties, running her fingers across the taut material that clung closely to her springy bottom. The revealed curve of her buttocks was delightful - a smooth arc running from the tops of her thighs and leading up naturally to her narrow belted waist. The light pleated material of her tartan skirt lifted easily and fell against her smooth skin in soft lazy folds. The red haired girl’s hand floated across the delightful arc - hardly glancing the skin, just caressing its peach-like surface with only the lightest touch.

I pressed myself against the cold stone wall and brought my fingers up between my legs. I gasped with relief as my fingers entered my warm wet cunt. Spit ran over my bottom lip as if in recognition of this immediate fulfilment.

I listened to their amorous groans, their slurping hungry lips, the ardent pressure of their bodies one against the other. Each new sound made me force my fingers deeper - each groan, each slurp, each rubbing sound feeding my own hunger for more, my own need for pleasure and ultimate satisfaction.

I realised I was groaning as well, slurping, pressing my body noisily against the wall. Suddenly I thought that they might hear me! I went still - frozen, my fingers pressed deeply into my slit, spit running from my mouth and dripping down my chin. I listened to my heart pounding - my blood pulsating through my veins, thumping in my temples, making me giddy and hot. I backed away, frightened that they might see me and stop, terrified that they might leave me like this - bound with unreleased joy, confined by my anticipation, seized with a desperate need for fulfilment. I felt the statue behind me - hard and cold. I felt the hilt of the sword pressing against my buttocks - thick and stiff.

The two girls pulled away from each other - standing back and holding hands, bowing their heads, licking their lips, recovering for a moment from the heat of their passion. I wanted to run up to them and kiss them one by one. I wanted to lift their skirts, to run my hands across their bottoms, to slip my fingers between their legs and feel the soft flesh of their cunts pulled tightly against the thin white material of their panties. I wanted to strip their clothes off in a madness of passion - throw them both to the ground naked, spread their legs and lick their delectable slits as they wriggled and squealed beneath me.

I pressed myself back more against the statue - hiding away from the girls, fearful of discovery, fearful of the uncontrolled release of my own passions.

They swung their hands between them, rocking from side to side as if playing a school yard game. They dropped their heads sideways in rhythm with their movements. I found myself moving in time with them - pushing back, leaning forward before pushing back again at the same pace as their slowly swinging arms.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps. Someone was coming!

The girls kept swinging their hands - side to side, rocking their heads, smiling at each other silently.

A man appeared from beyond them. I could only see his silhouette - tall, slim, with loose clothing. He stopped as if startled or surprised by seeing the two girls in front of him. They giggled but continued swinging their hands. He approached them and spoke. I couldn’t hear what he said nor could I hear their reply.

I pressed back against the statue. I felt the rounded pommel at the end of the handle against the parting cheeks of my buttocks. I bent forward enough to widen the gap between them. The pommel felt heavy and massive. I lifted myself slightly against it.

The two girls each released one of their hands. They turned sideways to face the man. They ducked a little, still chatting and giggling. One of them pawed at him with her free hand, the other followed her partner’s lead. They stroked his face and ran their hands around his neck and along his shoulders. I could see he was flattered by their attention. He reached out to them but they pulled back, still with their single hands entwined and giggled loudly as though avoiding him was some sort of victory, like winning a race or game.

Suddenly he caught hold of one of them - perhaps the one with the red hair, I wasn’t sure. He held her by the arm and drew her close to his chest. She struggled but could not free herself. She whinnied like a captured fawn. Her friend pulled at her hand, trying to release her from the man’s grasp, but he held on too strongly and would not let her go.

I was transfixed. I realised I was rubbing the pommel of the sword handle between my buttocks now. I had leant forward and opened them wide enough for the cold round carved pommel to press against my anus. Its hardness felt brutal and unyielding, its rough surface abrasive and dry. I pressed harder and felt its force on the edge of my exposed anal ring. I gasped and felt my heart beating wildly in my chest. I pushed my fingers deeper into my cunt then pulled them out and ran my wet hand between my legs and rubbed it onto the stone sword pommel. I stroked my wet hand around it, feeling its girth, its strength its hardness. I lubricated it with my own moisture then plunged my fingers back into my cunt and pressed my anus harder against the now-wet pommel.

The man twisted the girl’s arm behind her back and pulled her tightly against him. He pressed his mouth against hers. She struggled and tried to escape but he wouldn’t let her go and twisted her arm to bring her under control. Her friend punched at the man but he was too strong and her blows fell meaninglessly onto his well muscled body. He pushed the red haired girl to her knees. Her friend stood back. He gave some instructions and the girl on her knees reached up and undid the front of his trousers. The black haired girl dropped to her knees by her friend’s side.

I watched the red haired girl draw out the man’s cock - it was big and hard. I imagined its heat, its firmness its pulsating, vein covered shaft. I pressed myself more fully against the pommel and allowed my anus to open under the increased pressure. I gasped as I felt the wet-smeared, stone knob touching the delicate inside of my anus. For a moment I held my breath, wondering if I dare press more - wondering if my delicate flesh could take the size, the hardness, the roughness.

I watched the red haired girl’s mouth open. Her lower jaw dropped wide as she fed the swollen end of the cock between her lips. She rose up on it, as if she was inhaling it. Her dark haired companion waited by her side, still holding her friend’s hand but no longer trying to help her escape or free herself. Now they were both under a different sort of control - it was not physical although it manifested itself in a physical way, it was purely spirit that exerted itself completely over everything material. They were under a strange and powerful spell, operating now under the magic of some force more dominant than anything connected to the physical world.

I watched the red haired girl’s cheeks dish in as she sucked hard on the massive cock. I pressed myself harder against the pommel. It entered my anus, first expanding it, pressuring its edges, then springing inside; released by the tension at the entrance and straightaway revelling in the comparative ease to be found inside my rectum. I drew in breath with a noisy gasp. I held it in, fearful that I had been heard and would be detected. When I tried to breathe out I couldn’t release it and waited, blocked by it, my lungs exploding, as only gradually it seeped away.

The red haired girl’s head moved up and down on the heavy shaft in her mouth - her spiky hair bending back and forth, her slim frame submitting itself to the spell of the beating blood-filled hardness inside her mouth. I knew she was licking it with her tongue, wrapping it eagerly around its end, licking around the sensitive rear edge of the glans, feeling the texture of the raised pulsating veins as she allowed it to go deeper towards the back of her throat.

I saw it enter as far as it could, then I saw her hold it at its limit. I knew the swollen glans was pressed against the back of her throat then, as she gulped and pressed further, I knew she had yielded to it and taken it further down. I knew it was going down her throat then, as she pressed her gaping lips hard against the base of his stomach, I knew it was fully in. She kept it there, holding it in place, allowing the lining of her throat to tighten against it, binding itself to her as if it was part of her.

I rode the pommel in my rectum. I plunged my fingers deeper into my cunt. I wanted the cock the red haired girl was sucking in my mouth. I so wanted to take it down my throat, to feel its throbbing end as deep as it would go. Spit ran from my mouth as the rough harness of the pommel went deeper and I felt the following hardness of the thick ribbed handle which it topped.

Suddenly the cock exploded from the girl’s mouth. There was so much of it! She choked and coughed. Immediately, her waiting friend grasped it and took it into her mouth. She sucked hard and without hesitation or delay took it down straightaway. She threw her hands up in the air, pinioned by the full length of the heavy cock deep inside her throat. Her friend held onto her, encouraging her to keep it in longer, to take it even deeper, to nourish herself completely.

I didn’t know what I was doing anymore. I felt completely filled - stuffed full of the hard rough handle of the sword. I didn’t know how much was inside me, how much I could take, how much more I was going to take. I thrust my other hand down and pressed hard around the base of my clitoris. The tops of my thighs were soaking wet with the moisture flowing from my cunt.

The man’s cock came out of the dark haired girls’ throat. Like her friend she choked and coughed. Spit sprayed from her mouth. They held onto each other, kissing, tasting the man’s cock on their lips, sucking in each other’s spit, trying to satisfy themselves. But they were not satisfied - I could see that. They got up from their knees and draped themselves around the man’s neck. He bent his face to them and they reached their faces up to his. They kissed him for a few moments then the girl with the red hair pressed her mouth against one side of his neck. Her friend did the same on the other side. The man allowed his head to fall back in an ecstasy as they kissed his neck, then I heard him cry out in pain and shock as they both bit deeply into this flesh.

I tightened on the hard shaft in my anus - I was surprised and shocked - and, as I did, I felt a seizure of pleasure running deep inside my hips, into my stomach, and up into my chest. I gasped and started panting loudly. I didn’t care anymore if I was heard or detected. I pressed back harder and felt the pommel deep inside my rectum - I was filled with it, stuffed completely. I felt as if I was hanging on it, like a flag on a staff - weak and exhausted, pinioned by it, penetrated by it, no longer able to remain in control of myself.

I watched the two girls biting into the man’s neck. They did not just make punctures big enough to drink from, they bit again and again, lacerating his skin, breaking it open and covering the surface with bloody wounds. They were like wild dogs feeding frantically on their prey. They took no notice of his cries, they ignored his screams; I could not tell whether they were screams of pain or cries for mercy - it did not matter. I watched the silhouetted blood spurting from his throat. I watched the two ravenous figures lapping at the wounds, chasing the torrents of blood that ran down their victim’s neck. I watched the girls writhing in the stream, bathing in the falling tide of blood, eating the flesh of their prey, taking at last what had always been their need, saturating themselves in the crimson fluid they so much craved.

Weakened, the man fell back against the wall - his head drooped, his arms loosely by his side. Still they fed on him, laughing, giggling, biting, making fresh wounds, fresh punctures from which his precious blood could run. They stopped occasionally and kissed each other, lapping at the blood on each other’s faces, or passing it between their mouths with their bubbling spit.

I hung on the solid sword handle, depleted and worn out. I was twitching - I knew my passion had flowed, that my orgasm had overwhelmed me, but I couldn’t remember it. My body felt tense and cramped and yet I was wilted and limp. I was gasping, panting, my cunt was aching, my rectum still felt stuffed and my anus was painful and sore. I didn’t think I would be able to move again. I was completely overwhelmed.

For a moment my eyes were closed. I imagined the seizure that must have overtaken me - the lights in my head, the aching in my rectum, the uncontrollable spasms throughout my convulsing body. When I opened them again the girls were standing in front of me, holding hands, giggling, staring at me inquisitively. They were soaked - their shirts and socks were red, their faces covered and dripping with blood, their knees smudged with the man’s ruby nectar. They smiled at me. It was as if nothing had happened. They giggled. The one with the red hair pawed at my face.

‘Pretty,’ she said, and they both giggled. ‘Very pretty.’

They both smiled broadly. Their sharp canine teeth glistened. I dropped my head to the side, exposing my neck to them, hoping they would fall on me and devour me in the same way they had taken the man. I looked into their eyes appealing for their attention but they just giggled again and ran off down the dim corridor to join with their chattering, inquisitive party.

I went back to Heathrow and slept in the main terminal building. It was fairly quiet for most of the night. I had a breakfast burger and salad in “Giraffe” and, with most of my money still intact, I was the first to board the plane to Vienna.