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Do Pervert Angels
fly in Business Class?
An almost naked
and masochist girl on a flight makes a spectacle of herself. These are real
events I had the luck to watch with my eyes. So, don't expect nothing of
particularly strange or crude.
These are real
facts. I saw them happening. I just added a few suspense and some romance.
Obviously there are things that I don't know (since I never spoke with the
protagonist), but for what I could, I tried to imagine them and I report my
interpretations.
English is not my
native language so you will find some mistakes. Sorry for that.
I can't hide my
hope that she, or someone who know her, will read this story, because I'm very
curious to know her: for sure she has very interesting stories to tell! (as
well as other interesting features...)
This is my first
story here. I read a lot about bdsm and I really like it, but I don't like to
write fiction. And since the other kinky episodes in my life ar not so kinky
(altough I had had some good bdsm with a former girlfriend)... maybe this will
be also my last story.
Any comment is
welcome. Write to kaiser [@t] lavabit [d.ot] com
Well, enjoy. I
hope you'll have the luck to meet her somewhere!
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I was queuing for
the passenger check and I was reasoning about how boring is to take a plane and
all the associated things (queues for check-in, various controls, and so
on...), when suddenly a vision appeared. She was just 4 or 5 places before me,
and now that the queue snake had reached a curve we faced each other for the
first time. As for all the other people in the airport who had seen her, my
heart missed a beat.
Since it’s my
favourite, I will start to describe her from her (tiny) feet, that were adorned
by two very uncomfortable strappy sandals made completely of steel, impossibly
high and impossibly narrow. Well, not that they were very very high, probably
5" and something, but since her feet were quite small, the result was that
she walked practically on her tiptoes. Fact emphasized by the two very thin
chains that "held" her feet. I write it between quotes because in
reality they were of very little help: they started between her big and her
second toe (like a flip-flop), then went in diagonal and disappeared under her
heel, to reappear on the back just to be looped around the ankle up to the node
at the knee level. Practically if she didn't want all her weight to be on the
inside of her toes, she had to manage to remain on tiptoes without the support
of the shoes. In addition, the back of the sandals wouldn't have offered much
help, since it was incredibly narrow. As her ruined big toes nails suggested,
she probably was a ballerina, or at least had had many years of ballet classes,
so wasn't surprising the apparent ease with which she walked on such impossible
sandals.
She was quite
short, probably 160cm without heels. Her athletic legs were completely nude,
and the rim of her silver dress fell just one inch below her pussy and the end
of her buttocks, so when she walked the rim of her ass was visible at moments.
The skirt of her
dress was quite large, light and fluttering, in contrast with the bust that was
very tight, made of elastic creases that fitted tightly on her body, and
underlined her incredibly narrow waist. The creases bust ended just below her
(small but firm, maybe a b-cup) breasts, where started a triangle whose top was
held by a small steel collar. If officially her breasts were covered and
sustained by this triangle, in reality it covered just half of them, till the
nipples, so that the external sides of her breasts were completely nude (it was
much more than leave the outline visible). Moreover, the fabric of this
triangle was so thin (and it was so tight) that her big and hard nipples
protruded clearly.
Her shoulders
were obviously nude, from the point where the bust finished, and covered by her
long shiny black hair. I noticed anyway a little design scraped into her skin
over the left shoulder, that seemed a Japanese ideogram, and I wondered why she
had it and if someone made her have it. I started fantasizing about her being a
slave of someone, who had ordered her to dress that way.
But the
incredible thing was her face. Maybe because she was a cross between an Asian
(Taiwan?) and an European, she had an incredibly innocent expression, that
contrasted with the piercings scattered around her face (not many, just
strange: a barbell in the septum ending with two brilliants, the same for the
barbells on her tongue and through her cheeks, and some long eardrops). I
drowned a second in her deep black eyes, and her luscious lips (covered of
course by cherry red lipstick) said "kiss me" to everybody. If I
didn't know that some Asians show less years than they have, I would have said
she was no more than 15. And anyway she couldn't be more than 18-19.
While the queue
unwound, I discovered some other little things, such as a nasty scar on her
left cheek, that seemed quite old (maybe a cut when she was 5, but it was very
long, like the ones that have some veterans), and a series of scars on her
forearms, that were clearly from self inflicted wounds. She had also some
bruises under her breasts, and paying attention you could notice the remaining
of some scars on her legs and feet. The frame started to become clear: she was
not only an exhibitionist but also a masochist. Yet for some reason I expected
her to be accompanied by a master, and since the people near her couldn't be, I
started searching for somebody who could. But I was soon distracted by her
arrival to the metal detector, where her first show was beginning.
Of course, since
her sandals where made of steel, the metal detector rang. The policewoman gave
a rapid sight to the girl and suggested she had to remove her sandals. I had
had the luck to be just behind her now,
so when she came back and, instead of crouching, just bent over and
started to unlace the sandals, she gave me a wonderful show. The microskirt of
her dress was now completely up, and as I suspected she didn't wear any
underwear, leaving her bottom completely naked. What I didn't imagine was that
she had an inflatable dildo stuck in her ass! Since the unlacing operation took
quite a while, I had time to inspect her naked (and perfectly rounded) bottom,
and so I was sure that the bulge protruding from her anus was that of a big
dildo that in her bent position she didn't manage to keep completely inside
(though she was struggling to, according to the contraptions of her anus). It
had a valve from which the tube had been detached, so it was inflatable, and
according to what I could see it seemed to be inflated to (about) a 2 inches
diameter (and I dared what length!).
Now her sandals
were off and on the x-ray belt, and as they disappeared inside, I was impressed
by the narrowness of their soles: they measured no more than half an inch! They
were obviously custom-made, as her dress: she, or her master, had for sure a
lot of money.
Walking gingerly
just on her toes, she passed again under the metal detector, that sang again.
The policewoman pointed at the collar. Fortunately it could be removed without
removing all the dress, but then she had to hold the triangle of the dress with
a hand. She unlocked something on the back and the rigid collar split in two,
leaving a deep mark on her neck. Judging from the mark, she lived practically
breathless!
Again under the
metal detector, again the buzz. At this point I had two theories: either she
had metal beads in her pussy, or her tiny waist wasn't all natural. The policewoman was puzzled: this girl was
practically naked! Anyway she followed the procedure and passed the portable
detector around the girl's body, and it sang around her torso. When finally the
girl with innocent eyes said "maybe it's the boning of my corset" and
lifted her skirt to show the rim of the bustier beneath, the mystery was over,
but I was completely in love with that girl (and my jeans had an embarrassing
bulge... like the ones on all the other men's jeans).
Then it was
eventually my turn to pass the metal detector, and it was quite embarrassing
removing my belt... Reasoning in my head, I compared my embarrassment for such
a little (and obvious, given the circumstances) thing like an erection and what
could be instead hers. But she seemed not care at all at her nakedness, and was
calmly lacing her torturing sandals.
Unlike many other
men, who formed a swarm behind her, I went on my way to buy some food and some
water. So I was quite surprised to meet her again at the till, where she paid
some newspapers, a little bottle of vodka and a hot chilli sauce typical of the
south of Italy (where we were). I was a little surprised by her choice, because
for a tourist that sauce is too hot. And I was sure she wasn't Italian (I heard
her speaking only in English). Anyway, walking to my gate, I discovered that it
was her gate, too. And as I always do in the airports and in the airplanes, I
wondered how people can wear sandals, t-shirts, shorts, miniskirts (or
microdresses) in such a cold. I can't survive a flight without a pullover, and
she was practically naked! With the (pleasant) side effect that her nipples
protruded hard and big through her dress...
Other things I
was thinking of, were how could she
accommodate such a big dildo in a such a tiny waist. I'm quite fond of
corsetry, so it wasn't difficult to estimate that her waist was reduced to no
more than 18", maybe even less (don't forget she was quite short, too, and
naturally slim). While waiting for the boarding I tried to image the feeling of
having such contrasting forces on one's body: one tightening from the outside,
the other widening from the inside. Without taking into account those sandals
and the resulting constant contraction of all the muscles while walking,
buttocks and anus included! I really admired her spirit of endurance. And she was
still so young... I wondered at what age she started having sex and practicing
SM...
Since I had a
place in business class, I was quite sure I had to say goodbye to this pervert
angel. Instead my luck went on: she had the seat on the other side of the
aisle! And we were the only two in our row!
During the
takeoff I instinctively took a
bubblegum, to compensate for the difference in pressure, and suddenly realized
that, for simple physics reasons, the inflatable dildo in her rectum was
increasing in size! I looked at her and saw she had closed her eyes, but she
seemed quite calm. Just from time to time she clutched her legs more firmly,
but it seemed she enjoyed it. A quick computation, and I realized that if the
dildo was 2" wide at sea level, now it had to be just a little less than
3"! What kind of practices was she used to, to endure and even enjoy such
a torture?!? Now the clutching movements of her legs were more frequent, and I
realized what she was doing: masturbating! It was just the epiphenomenon of her
clutching her vagina muscles, and elicit pleasure exploiting the sensations
from her ass.
Since she kept
her eyes closed, I kept mine on her, and had the chance not only to see her
orgasm building slowly, but also to study her tits that now in profile I could
see perfectly, completely naked (well, just one, obviously!). Since we both
were seating in the aisle seats, she was just one meter from me, and I could
see the minimum details. Including some wounds from pins, and including a
strange piercing on her nipple, that slowly I realised being actually a little
ring clasping the base of her nipple, maybe with a piercing but probably
without, since it was tight enough to remain in place. It was very very tight,
and so it was partially hidden by the flesh of the nipple that fell back on it.
It was actually a very discreet portable form of nipple clamp... and judging by
how tight it was, it had to be quite painful too! So even the stiffness of her
nipples wasn't natural, but a permanent, painful, self-inflicted condition.
In the meantime
this pervert creature was very near to her orgasm... (as I was to mine, even
not touching myself) She tried to conceal her movements but to me it was anyway
a show: her feet in almost a ballerina vertical position, contracting from time
to time, her completely naked legs (up to the microskirt that fell all around
her, since it was too short to be folded under her bottom, and so left visible
the profile of her legs up to her buttocks) clutched firmly, her heavy breath
(for what heavy can be the breath of a girl with a tight collar and very tight
corset), everything spoke of an imminent orgasm... until...
...the hostess
arrived with the lunch. I saw for a very little moment an expression of
frustration on the girl's face, before she regained her usual detachment. If it
was me, I would have gone to the toilet to finish the work (and actually I was
tempted to do so for my own...), instead she carelessly unpacked her lunch and
started to eat. Or, better, to chew, since before she could swallow anything
through that tight collar it took two minutes... She was even on the point to
choke a pair of times, but she stoically continued without easing the terrible
grip on her throat.
When she tried on
a small piece of bread a good spoonful of the just bought hot sauce, I thought
she was a martian. Even I would have cried and drank a bottle of water, she
just became a little red, and swallowed it. Then she dipped a finger in the
sauce, and passed it between her legs. A little jump, a little more blush on
her face, then she... went on eating!
Finished the
lunch, she moved to the window seat (cleaning quickly the mess she left on the
other seat, soaked with her juices) and then with a quick action extracted from
her vagina a big vibrating egg (I wondered how long has it been vibrating...),
covered it with some hot sauce and reinserted it, becoming quite red in face,
finally. Then with the dirty fingers started to masturbate furiously her clit
and so it took only seconds to have a violent orgasm (although she tried to
hide it, her jump was clearly visible, as the contractions of her legs and
feet).
I was very happy
for her, but I could only imagine how much pain she was in now that the
endorphins of the arousal had dropped. But she seemed not to care: the most
important thing now seemed to regain her full composure, so after a look in her
little mirror she decided to go to the toilet to redo her make-up. I expected
her to be a little clumsy walking on tiptoes with a burning clit and cunt (with
a big vibrating egg inside), a giant dildo in her ass, just after a violent
orgasm... instead she was classy and careless as usual, even being obviously
conscious that 10 eyes where looking at the rim of her skirt, that left a good
half of her buttocks naked (since her dress, with all that activity, lifted up
- and she didn't lowered it).
After a while (in
which I imagine she cleaned her burning cunt from the hot sauce) she re-emerged
from the toilet and sat back in her window seat. She was clearly tired and
after a while fell asleep. The position she chose was quite unusual (thought I
had already seen it with my former girlfriend), almost foetal, joint legs, with
her knees bent and resting on one side of the seat, her feet resting both on
the other side of seat (mine), almost under her buttocks, her shoulders still
almost vertical (she couldn't flex her torso in her tight corset), and her head
resting against the wall of the cabin. Now she was a perfect mix of innocence
and obscenity: her eyes closed, sleeping with and expression of tranquillity,
her hair gently spread on her face, shoulders and knees... but in the meantime
her labia and ass obscenely offered, now completely uncovered by the skirt, her
naked feet sexily adorned by those inexistent sandals, the bulge of a giant
dildo protruding slightly from her ass, and (now I noticed for the first time)
on her clit a ring similar to those on her nipples. This clit ring was very
tight but also quite long, starting from the inside of her hood and forcing her
clit (that probably had been artificially elonged) to protrude a little. This
girl didn't stop to astonish me a moment. She should have been very accustomed
to pain to manage to sleep (happily and peacefully, according to her expression)
crouched notwithstanding a tight corset that forced her torso to stay straight,
practically nude while all the others wore pullovers, a dildo in her ass that
now measured almost 3 inches, and her clit and nipples gnawed by those tight
rings...
After almost an
hour (in which everybody in business class had had the chance to look into her
cunt), when the hostess passed again, she woke up and started to tidy herself,
concentrating mostly on her hair. She used a cylindrical hairbrush made of very
thin (but quite hard) bristles. I don't know how to describe it better, but for
sure everybody have seen that kind of hairbrush: a dense cylinder (about 1 inch
wide) of very thin needles, that if held in the hand can be almost painful.
So I imagined how
painful could it be brushing it on one's clit and labia, that was what she was
exactly doing the moment later! But she didn't seem to feel the pain, rather,
she enjoyed it. She kept poking between her legs with that hairbrush for almost
a quarter on hour, her face turning gradually in an expression of pain, but she
insisted and started to pinch hard a nipple (careless of the show she was
offering, completely absorbed in her own world of pain and who knows which
fantasies) until she finally managed to come, and almost passed out, since she
couldn't breath enough air with that collar.
When she
re-emerged from her own world (and from the daze of her hypo oxygenation) for a
short moment she looked at me and blushed, but obviously she was so beyond a
normal behaviour that nothing could be said, and so she went on as nothing
happened. With a napkin she cleaned the hairbrush and between her legs, and it
seemed to have some blood on it, fact confirmed when she stood up and cleaned
quickly the seat, giving me a perfect view of her ass and cunt, on which drops
of blood just started to form. She then took a little bottle of vodka she had
bought and went to the toilet, to clean and disinfect herself and the
hairbrush.
Now eventually I
understood also that bottle, but above all I was stunned by the fact that she
had planned everything in its minimum details! And being a true masochist, she
didn't choose a normal disinfectant, but instead the most burning of all:
alcohol! I had to speak with her, I wanted to know more about her... So I did
something that sometimes had worked (I know it sounds incredible but I can
assure it sometimes works - but not in this case, until now): put a business
card in her purse. I know it sounds nerdy and that in a fiction story I should
have ended fucking her tied up upside down, but I'm sorry, this is reality.
But don't be
deluded, there is at least the last act: when she came out the toilet, she had
in one hand the (halved) little bottle of vodka, but no trace of her hairbrush.
I was ready to go to the toilet to clear my suspect, but she gave me the answer
in her usual way: bending at 90° to lay a newspaper on her seat (her own, near
mine on the aisle). Again (and for the last time) I had her firm ass in my
face, and so I could see clearly the handle of the hairbrush protruding some
centimetres from her cunt (as well as the usual giant dildo in her ass, and
some marks remaining from some old caning, and the ring clasping the base of
her clit...). I was breathless, and so remained while she calmly sat down,
finishing to impale herself on this new torture instrument.
Although she
tried to show easiness and confidence, she betrayed the strain with which she
attempted to hide the extreme pain she was in. After the initial bewilderment I
finally understood that this was the
real trial she had to go through, something she had never done. I could see the
tension in her every muscle: her feet completely vertical, with just her toes
touching the floor (even those impossibly high heels now were raised), her
hands clutching the armrests, her breath carefully controlled (for what her
collar and corset permitted), her gaze staring just in front.
After a while,
carefully, she started the same movements of the take off, with the difference,
however, that now she hadn't a pleasant smooth vibrating egg inside her, but a
bristly hairbrush that pricked her up to her most private recesses. Moreover,
being she so seated, it was also pushing hard on her cervix, all her weight
resting on such a tender and sensitive part of her body. But notwithstanding
all this pain, she closed her eyes and with a deep strain of concentration she
intensified and accelerated the clutching movements of her legs, that were
obviously only the external result of the voluntary contractions she was making
with her vagina and all her internal muscles. I pictured the walls of her
vagina rhythmically clenching and loosening those sharp stinging bristles,
caressing and pulsing round that hairbrush, voluntarily torturing and tearing
themselves.
She went on with
this self inflicted torture for at least a quarter on hour, then finally with a
last spasm she succeeded in having this impossible orgasm and collapsed on the
seat (although, because of her corset, she actually remained perfectly upright,
only her head bent on a side), and stayed almost unconscious for a good minute.
Then gradually she regained consciousness, and obviously the first thing she
did was looking between her legs, with a little jump of fright. With some wipes
she started to clean her pussy then quickly she stood up, picked up and folded
the bloodstained newspaper and headed to the toilet. While she walked, she
wasn't anymore so confident on her high-heels-no-grip-sandals, her legs were
almost trembling and a pair of air pockets almost made her fall on the floor.
And she wasn't anymore lucky: the toilet was busy (so the others in economy
class), and so she had to queue and wait anxiously, while a tiny trickle of
blood started to flow down between her thighs, clutched in the useless effort
to avoid it. In the meantime the air pockets were increasing, so a few seconds
before the toilet was free, the captain turned on the seatbelt signs, and the
hostess (sadistically) summoned the girl to return to her seat.
She had just the
time to take another newspaper and put it on the seat before seating down and
fasten her seatbelt. A small tear testified the unbearable pain she was in. In
a desperate effort to cope with her pain she started to massage her clit, to
bring back some arousal. After a while she took the egg from her purse, to use
it to massage between her legs, but it didn't seem to be of any use: every 5
seconds she looked at the belt signal in the hope it turned off, and she was
tensed in every muscle. The air pockets surely didn't make the situation
better: every shaking echoed in her cunt and against her cervix. She was
sweating abundantly, and after a while, seen the useless effort, she put the
egg back in her purse and took a tiny bottle (probably a calming popper) from
which sniffed two or three long strokes. For a moment I wondered how she
managed to bring it aboard, then I remembered that we departed from the south
of Italy, and that anyway everybody in the airport cared far more about her
tits and ass...
For sure this lasting
torture wasn't in her plans, and when the captain announced that in half an
hour we were landing and that because of the turbulences we had to remain
seated until then, she panicked again. Her hope to stop her torture in a few
minutes vanished, and now she had to wait until inside the airport! Her efforts
to control the panic with long breathes were thwarted by her corset and collar,
and when in a last desperate attempt she gave up and undid her collar I
understood that she was far over her endurance possibilities.
The landing was
very sharp, with a violent blow that drew a long wining from her. I imagined
her cervix thorn by the hairbrush, and in the meantime suddenly I had a clear
view of her completely naked tits, since with the impact (and without the
collar) the triangle fell down, and she was too taken by her pain to care. Then
she realized that the release from her torture was just a minute away, and she
smiled for the first time from the take off. With her remaining forces she
managed to recover her composure: she laced her collar back, put her hair in
order with her hands, redid her makeup, cleaned the blood from between her
legs, and when finally the doors opened she was the first to leave the
aircraft, but not before throwing the folded bloodstained newspaper in the bin.
In the northern
Europe, as usually, it was raining cats and dogs, and so in the little way to
the bus she (as me, as anybody) was already drenched in rain, and she was even
more sexy: her feet slipping in those already unsupporting sandals, her dress
glued on her skin (and corset), and little trickles of water running down on
her nude legs, becoming more red at every second...
The first toilet
in the airport was hers, and when my suitcase arrived she was still in, so the
last image I have of her is that one: running on her tiptoes slipping in her
high heel sandals, on her legs trickles of water turned in trickles of blood.
I don't know if
anybody was waiting for her, if anybody ordered her to do what she did, and many
other things I'd be very curious to know. It's very unlikely that she reads
this story, as it is that she uses my business card, so I won't ever have the
answers. But I often wonder what is doing that beautiful and pervert angel...
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