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...