by Syra Bond
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.
THE TRAIN TO BRATISLAVA
I thought Vienna would be surrounded by mountains - a panorama of snow capped peaks bathed in fresh air and flowers. I couldn’t have been more wrong - it was flat, dirty and grimy. The backstreets were tawdry, the bars sleazy and architecture too big and grandiose to deal with. There were fountains everywhere - massive stampeding horses ridden by naked windblown gods, muscular warriors fighting serpents, cherubs and angels with trumpets striving for the right to challenge or serve a greater god.
The bus from the airport stopped at the front entrance to Vienna Reichsbrücke station - a maze of tramlines, yellow road markings, and zigzagging taxis weaving between people with every size and description of bag it is possible to imagine.
I bought a ticket to Bratislava and soon found the right platform. I looked up at the chattering information board - an hour to wait and an hour to get there. I sat on a wooden bench and stared at the clock - it seemed stuck on one o’clock. I pushed the plastic box between my feet and looked around. A young woman stood in front of me facing the rails. She wore a pink dress with a short skirt and a deeply cut neckline. She placed her red leather bag on the ground and bent one foot around the top of her other ankle. She dropped her hips sideways and balanced herself with perfect poise. She had a beautiful figure - tall, slender, strikingly curved with square shoulders.
It was an old fashioned train; the passenger coaches separated into compartments each seating eight people. It was very hot - the middle of summer and the heating was switched on! A girl opposite me took out a frilly white handkerchief and mopped her pale forehead. She pressed it to her lips and seemed refreshed by her own salty wetness. A man sitting near the window wiped his face with the back of his hand. I imagined him offering it to the young woman to lick. I pictured her stroking her tongue across its surface, taking up the salt - the salt that had been squeezed from the pores of his flesh by the heat that had built up inside him. The tho
ught sent a shivering thrill down between my hips. Just before the last train door slammed shut, the woman in the pink dress who had stood in front of me on the platform sat down by my side.
The train pulled out noisily - heavy diesel engine noise, lots of clatter over uneven rail points, loud clanking and sudden snagging of ungreased and ill maintained rolling stock couplings.
Everybody had only just settled - opening their books, a magazine, eating a cream cake - when the compartment door was pushed open. It made me jump. Two men in dark blue uniforms pushed their way in. Both of them wore shiny peaked caps and carried handguns in holsters fixed to black leather belts pulled tightly around their waists. Neither had shaved for several days. One had a blue tattoo of an eagle on the back of his hand.
‘ Pasů!’ he announced. ‘Passports!’
Everyone started to search in their bags and pockets.
He kicked at the box at my feet.
‘Co je v krabici? Co je krabici?’
‘Sorry. I don’t understand?’
‘Co je krabici!’
‘Sorry, I - ’
‘Krabici! Krabici!’
I held out my passport. It only angered him.
‘Krabici! Krabici!’
The woman in the pink dress pressed her mouth against my ear - her breath was cool and refreshing, as though she was breathing out the fragrance of a high mountain stream. I felt my lips going dry.
‘What’s in the box?’ she whispered. ‘They want to know what’s in your box.’
