by Nicole Dere
‘Very nice,’ he chortled, feasting his eyes.
When Krista at last moved away Nicky’s golden arms folded over her breasts. The cropped white head bent, and she cried softly to herself. I stared at her slender fingers, spread over her arms. They looked elegant, the clean nails unpainted, cut short and beautifully shaped.
It felt as if we were suspended in time trapped in that sweltering tube of metal. Soon the place stank from our combined sweat. Our captors seemed to suffer as much as we did. Even Krista’s smart crispness wilted. The perspiration glistened on her face while her blonde hair darkened and hung in limp strands. Dark patches showed up on her khaki drill shirt, spreading out from the armpits. Before long the unpleasant atmosphere was made worse by the fetid stench that rose from the toilets and spread throughout the cabin.
Then everyone seemed to feel the urge to relieve themselves and the terrorists organised toilet trips, several rows at a time. It wasn’t only bladders that were voided. The flush system ceased to work, and the small compartments were soon overflowing. The air was rife with the pungent odour of shit. And then thirst became a major problem. The now bedraggled stewards, their blue jackets cast aside and their clinging white blouses showing every detail of the bras they wore beneath them, padded up and down the aisle constantly serving drinks. I glanced down as the coloured girl handed me a tiny can of something. I saw her bare feet, innocent of shoes and of the tights that were part of her uniform. Her dainty toenails were painted a deep magenta. For her lover? How long would it be before those pretty feet were opening for her partner?
Like many others, I actually managed to doze off for short intervals, hating each heart jarring return to consciousness and the nightmare of reality. No matter how hard I tried I could not keep myself from glancing at my watch, noting the hours creeping by with agonising slowness. Still no one talked, though there was a constant background of crying infants and the frantic efforts of parents to hush them, and also the pathetic whimpers of those lost in uneasy slumber.
At the first sign of action, there was heart-stopping panic again. The fourth hijacker, who had been closeted with the pilot and flight crew, appeared. I had assumed that Krista was the leader of the group, but it quickly became apparent that he was in charge, though his attitude towards the German girl was far less authoritative than to the two other male members of the team. He was very lean and actually very handsome. He was clean-shaven, and his olive complexion and close-cropped black hair gave him a Mediterranean look, although apart from the blonde German, we had no idea where they were from or what they wanted. It was not until later that we found out he was known as Khotan.
He had his arms full of passports, and he and Krista started to call out names, ordering these people to collect their hand baggage and to move out into the aisle. The sound of fresh weeping and furtive whispers rose on all sides. ‘Do not worry!’ he called strongly. ‘We are setting you free. You see, we are not inhuman. Tell the authorities that.’
It became clear that the mothers and children, and the elderly of both sexes, were those who were departing first. There were touching scenes between the married couples who were being split up, tears, frantic kisses, several sobbing pleas from the wives that their husbands be allowed to go with them, but the leader shook his head. ‘They will be safe,’ he said. ‘You will see them later. As long as everyone is not stupid, that is.’
Two hours later, there was another cull. More names were read out, a good number of them males. Ironically, there was a more relaxed air about both captors and captured now. We were allowed to talk, even to move around if we asked permission. I sank gratefully into Carl’s embrace, and we both stretched out across the three seats. I savoured the feel of his arms tight around me, one touching the underside of my breasts. I was pressed against the backs of the seats and he fitted himself into me from behind. I pushed my bottom into his loins, very aware of my nakedness under my crumpled skirt, and felt the responsive bulge and throb of his penis under the restriction of his clothing as he slotted it into the cleft of my bottom.
At first, it was the comforting feel of his intimate embrace I sought, the security it brought me, but then, suddenly and shockingly, I felt my vaginal muscles spasming rhythmically and my buttocks clenching, thrusting back discreetly and stirring his beating prick to respond. I seized his wrist, pushed his hand down over my stomach, lower, letting him feel the tuft of my pubis under the flimsy material, and then guiding him between my thighs until I was holding his fingers over the damp, cushiony pad of my mons and he was touching the bare skin under the displaced hem of my skirt.
It grew dimmer as the short twilight faded, then outside the porthole was impenetrable blackness. The plane’s electrical system was not working. The only light came from gas lamps placed near the front of the craft, so that we were all lying in deep shadow. It was this that made me bold, though part of me was still stunned by my sexual hunger in such weird and dangerous circumstances. I guided Carl’s fingers more specifically until their tips pressed at the uppermost folds of my labia, and then into the slippery tissue that flowered open and streamed wetly at these caresses. I was grinding my bottom lewdly into him, clenching and unclenching, thrilling to the ever-fiercer beat of his engorged prick even through the layers of cloth that separated us. I offered my neck back, shuddering with pleasure when his teeth nibbled and he sucked at my flesh.
I gasped, turning my head towards his warm mouth. ‘Jesus! I think – I think I’m going to come. Oh, don’t stop, darling. Please duh – don’t stop!’
I was gyrating madly now, thrusting forth my belly, pulling his hand ever tighter up into my vulva, gripping with my thighs, lost to everything except this pulsing, rising need…
‘What you doing?’ The words and the blinding glare of the torch beam shattered my private sex world like an explosion. I gasped, felt Carl pull away from me, and realised I was lying with my skirt up over my hips, baring my bottom and the dark shadow of my pubes. With a great sob of shame I squirmed round and up and tried to pull the dishevelled scrap of my skirt down over my naked flesh.
The dark shape of Krista stood over me, holding us in that merciless beam. She was grinning evilly. ‘You cannot be British! I do not believe it. I thought you Brits did not like sex. Now I find you fucking even though you might be blown to the sky any minute!’ She shook her head and her laugh mocked us. ‘You hot bitch! Come with me, I cool you down.’
Carl was crouched awkwardly. He gave a kind of grunt and Krista casually swung the torch onto his scared features. ‘Do not be brave, little man. And keep your cock in your trousers, yes? Otherwise I might blow it off.’ She laughed again, and then jabbed my upper arm painfully with the barrel of the gun. ‘Move!’ Snivelling softly, I stumbled as I hastened to obey her.
She stopped and said something to the one known as Khotan, who was sitting just inside the open door of the flight cabin beside the radio equipment. I was waiting, standing next to one of the others, the thickset unshaven one, who was leering at me. Their leader, Khotan, gave a dismissive nod, and Krista pointed towards the gap of the open doorway, through which the warm night showed. There was a dim lamp at the head of a narrow flight of metal steps leading to the ground. It did not strike me until much later that the forward end of the aircraft was not lit up at all. Only the area of tarmac behind us, leading to the distant airport buildings, was brilliantly lit.
‘Go on, down the steps,’ Krista ordered. ‘The night air might cool you a little, hot bitch.’
Once again came that sensation of all the strength draining from me. My legs shook and I gazed at her helplessly. She was going to shoot me. Down there in the tropical darkness, she was going to kill me. I sank in a heap on the top step. ‘Please,’ I sobbed brokenly. ‘I’m sorry… I’ll do anything. Please, I beg you.’
She kicked me on the thigh. ‘Go on, bitch, I’m not going to hurt you. I told you, I’m just going to let you cool off a little.’ She laughed, and I stumbled down the steps, weep
ing piteously. I could feel the hard metal on my bare feet.
‘Please don’t hurt me,’ I blubbered, turning to her at the bottom of the steps. ‘I’ll do whatever you want – please!’
Even in the dimness of the light spilling down on us from above, I could see her look of contempt. With the gun she motioned me to move, and still burbling in terror, I obeyed. We stood in deep shadow now, right under the bulbous nose of the aircraft, which reared like a roof over us. The nose wheel, taller than me, was beside us.
‘You really are a hot little bitch, aren’t you, Jane?’ she said. ‘Even now you want to fuck with your man, yes?’
‘No, I – I just – we were cuddling – I wanted him to – to comfort me.’ Desperately I fought to control my weeping, gulping in air.
She gave a harsh laugh. ‘Is that what you call it? He had his hand up your cunt, bitch. He was fiddling with you.’ I hung my head, weeping. Although my heart was still banging painfully in my ribs, I had the feeling that my cravenness, my display of helpless fear, might be my strongest ally. She was enjoying the spectacle of my degradation. That was what she wanted; I could tell she was excited by it. But her next words made me gasp with shock. ‘Take your clothes off, bitch. What’s left of them, at least.’
I gawped at her, my mouth open, and she pointed the gun at me, smiling. ‘I won’t tell you again…’
I unzipped the crumpled skirt and let it fall about my ankles, and then swiftly peeled the cotton top up over my head. I reached behind and unhooked my bra, and as my breasts were freed from the cups, I felt my perspiration drying coolly in the heavy warmth of the night air. The breeze played about my naked body as my hands came up to cross my arms over my breasts, but then one moved down to the dark little triangle of my pubis.
‘Your tits are not large, baby,’ she said, ‘but they are cute. They are just as I like them…’ I gasped again as she reached out and casually fondled me. My nipples were erect, and her thumb and forefinger pinched the right one with playful force, and then gave it a little tweak. ‘Turn around,’ she went on, her voice now little more than a whisper.
Trying still to stem my tears, I obeyed, and stiffened as I felt that same hand pass lingeringly over my bottom, stroking and tracing its contours. My buttocks clenched and dimpled as I reacted instinctively to the invasive touch. ‘And a gorgeous little ass,’ she breathed.
Even as I cried and trembled, I felt deep inside a sensation of profound relief, for I suddenly knew she would not harm me after all.
‘Over here, baby.’ Her voice was soft, crooning, heavy with sexuality, a lover’s voice. My legs were like jelly but I had no thought other than to obey. To my surprise, she gestured for me to stand against the huge wheel with my back to it, and then she pushed me up against it. She had put the gun on the ground, but I had no intention of trying to resist her, or to try and get to it. I felt the strangely smooth rubber on my bottom, and then against my hollowed back and shoulder blades as she gently moulded me to its giant curve.
I was leaning back now, totally vulnerable to her, my breasts and tummy thrust forward, only my toes touching the tarmac. The rubber was still warm. I stared up into the blackness of the compartment where the wheel was housed when raised – an oily cavern of pipes and cables.
‘Lift your arms, Jane.’ Her murmured command came from beside my ear. I obeyed, and felt my breasts lift and tauten. She was using a belt to bind my wrists tightly together, and then she lashed them to an upright metal stanchion, one of the struts of the wheel. Thus I was secured, pinioned, my pale body curved back, and she took full advantage of my helplessness.
Despite my best efforts to restrain myself I began to weep and shiver, first with shock, and then, incredibly, with excitement. Her hands were surprisingly tender as they passed all over my body, from my thighs up to my throat, squeezing, stroking and rousing. ‘Have you ever loved with a girl?’ she whispered, her breath hot on my cheek. ‘Have you truly?’
‘Nuh – never,’ I sobbed, and then her lips sealed my mouth. Her tongue pressed, and with a convulsive shudder, I opened, and it drove possessively into me. I could scarcely breathe when, at last, our lips parted again only for hers to move down, pausing at my exposed throat, and then to alight on my uplifted breasts. Her tongue flickered, feather light, around a nipple, and I was afire with need. I cried out softly at the melting sensation that flowed right through me as her lips closed around my teat and suckled hungrily and deeply, her face pressed into the softness of my flesh. Then she moved across to my other breast and I whimpered, lost to the sensations coursing through every part of me.
That wicked tongue flickered in the shallow little recess of my navel, and I sucked in my belly as desire sparked like electricity through my flesh until I thought I would faint. ‘No,’ I wept instinctively when I felt her face against my mound, her nose and lips rooting in the damp curls of my pubic hair… and on down into that running, swollen tissue of my sex, burning now with its hunger, awash with my running excitement, pungent with the odour of sweat and juice and sexual urgency. Her tongue lapped at the very centre of my need, devouring that tangy, salty crevice, which lifted in helpless response as though returning her passionate kisses from that other, hot mouth.
I groaned, begging for release, murmuring over and over, ‘Please… please…’ I felt her arm slip under my left knee and she lifted my leg, holding it high to the side, opening my loins even more blatantly to her burrowing caresses, and I drove my mound into her, lost to everything but the rushing crisis. Two of her fingers slid easily into the pulsing orifice of my vagina, which spasmed madly, and I writhed and shook and sobbed at the storm of my coming, which totally consumed me, my pale body threshing like a victim on the rack, arched in the velvet darkness of the tropical night.
Chapter 4
I was hardly aware of where I was until I felt my pinioned arms being untied, and my body eased from the curve of the tyre. Pain and shame flooded over me in equal quantities, and I wept forlornly. I sagged in Krista’s embrace, and she held me to her. I could feel her clothing rubbing against my skin and her lips nuzzling my tearstained face. Then her thumb and fingers dug into my chin and she held me while she clamped her mouth over mine in one more savagely passionate kiss. ‘There,’ she panted triumphantly, ‘taste your own come, you sexy little bitch.’
I sobbed, but she did not let me go. Instead she shook my tragic face, her features thrust close to mine. ‘It was good, was it not?’ she hissed. ‘Tell the truth, bitch.’
‘Yuh – yes!’ I howled, tears of shame scalding me. ‘It was good!’ I could not deny the sick truth that overwhelmed me.
‘Jane, my lover, I cannot now let you go without I punish you. You understand? You are my captive.’ I instantly forgot my shame and stared at her in fresh alarm. ‘Turn,’ she went on. ‘This way. Bend over the wheel again. Put your arms up and hold on.’
She made me turn around and spread myself with my front resting against the huge tyre. Obediently I stretched my arms up on either side of its thickness and grasped the oily metal supports. My breasts were squashed against the rubber now, as were my tummy and the insides of my spread-eagled thighs. She did not fasten my wrists but just left me clinging there, and a second later I understood why; she needed to use the leather belt as an instrument of chastisement. With the buckle end firmly wrapped around her fist, she brought it down in a flaring line of fire across the centre of my exposed buttocks. I screamed and twisted free of the wheel, clutching at my stinging flesh.
‘Lie back down!’ she snarled, gesturing at the tyre, and in spite of the agony I obeyed her once more, clinging convulsively while I begged through my tears for mercy. Splat! The belt fell a second time, overlaying that first red stripe with another one, and my bottom clenched and jumped beneath the impact. I screamed, but somehow managed to keep myself bent to that obscene rubber, my sobs coming in harsh gasps. She struck quickly a third and a fourth time, and my bottom was on fire, it was all I could do not to let my hand claw
at my throbbing skin. I could feel the raised welts over the quivering surface of my flesh.
‘Oh, please no, no more!’ Two more blows followed before the punishment ended and I was allowed to raise myself from the wheel. At every movement the pain in my beaten bottom was intense. My hands moved automatically to ease the stinging, but the lightest touch made me wince and whimper. The tips of my fingers brushed the tracery of angry raised bumps, which throbbed abominably. I stood in front of her, my head bent, my hands carefully stroking my bottom while my sobs died to a pitiful weeping.
To my amazement, she took me gently in her arms again, and this time her kisses were soft and tender, as were her hands as they held me close. ‘I had to do that, darling Jane,’ she crooned, her lips against my ear. ‘I must be tough with you, you know that. But you are my girl now. Obey me and you will be fine.’ She chuckled. ‘And that randy husband of yours also. But remember, no more fucking, yes? Not while you are mine. Don’t forget that, Jane.’
She found my scraps of clothing and helped me put on and fasten my skirt. ‘I don’t think you need this, yes? It can go with your knickers.’ She dropped my bra carelessly to the ground, and I pulled my top over my head. I winced with pain as I climbed back aboard the plane. Each step sent a dart of throbbing agony through my poor bottom.
Even in the subdued light, I felt every pair of eyes was fixed on me and I could see the shame written on my features as I hobbled back to my seat. Then fresh horror gripped me when I saw that Carl was not there. I turned in panic. ‘W-what’s happened?’ I blurted. ‘Where’s my husband?’
‘One of the guards took him,’ the American girl turned and told me, her face expressing her sympathy. I noticed she was wearing the olive tank-top once more.
Krista noticed, too. ‘Why you cover your tits?’ she demanded angrily.
Nicky Gimburg flushed and tried unsuccessfully to hide her nervousness, her full lips turned down in a touchingly childlike pout. She nodded towards the front of the plane. ‘I asked and he said I could. The one by the radio.’
