Heart in a Box Page 3

  She stood back from the table and bent forward at a right angle. She rested her elbows on the table. She was not wearing any panties. I could just see the tops of her thighs where they joined the base of her rounded buttocks. Between them I could make out the thin line of her crack, squeezed between the perfect oval created by the delectable raised edges of her soft pink cunt. A thrill of excitement passed through my stomach. My hips ached and I felt my nipples hardening and pressing against the material of my shirt.

  Kristy waited, not moving.

  Suddenly the man spoke in an everyday tone.

  ‘Kristy. Type out a new courier order. It’s for a package to Rome. It must go today.’

  Still leaning forward on her elbows Kristy took a sheet of paper from the pile on the left of the typewriter and wound it into the heavy black carriage. She cranked the wheel on the side and pulled it through until it reappeared and jutted upwards. She dropped the chromium carriage guard back with a metallic snap.

  She bit her lips and began to type.

  It was difficult for her, leaning forward while trying to hit the heavy keys with enough force to make them work. Suddenly two of the keys jammed together. She stopped immediately, looked sideways and bit onto her lips nervously.

  ‘Oh, Kristy. Another mistake. This is not good enough. I must teach you to do your work better. You understand don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, yes I do.’

  ‘Good! Hand me the ruler.’

  She passed him the wooden ruler. He held its ends, flexed it, then rubbed its smooth surface against the palm of his left hand.

  ‘And prepare yourself!’

  Kristy reached back with both hands and took hold of the hem of her tartan skirt. She raised it slowly, bit by bit completely exposing her naked bottom.

  I stared at the shape of her buttocks and the delectable oval of her cunt. A thrilling wave of excitement passed through me. I ran my hand between my legs, unable to resist the softness of my own aching flesh. I pulled my fingers between the lips. The slit was wet and opened easily. The tips of my fingers slid in and I pressed them deeply so that my clitoris rested against the inside of my hand. I felt its throbbing heat and another thrill ran through me in a shimmering wave.

  The man flexed the ruler again. I could see the tension in it - its springiness, its tautness, its ability to deliver stinging pain.

  ‘Now, Kristy, you must learn not to make any more mistakes with your typing. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, I understand.’

  ‘And why must you not make any mistakes?’

  ‘Because we will be out of work.’

  ‘Good. And to help you not make any mistakes, what must I do?’

  ‘You must punish me if ever I make one.’

  ‘And will you learn from this?’

  ‘Yes, yes I will.’

  ‘And have you been punished before for making mistakes?

  ‘Yes, yes I have.’

  ‘And so why do I have to punish you again?’

  ‘Because I have not learned from my punishment.’

  ‘So what must I do?’

  ‘You must punish me harder. Every time I make another mistake my punishment must be harder, more painful.’

  ‘And will you learn from this?’

  ‘Yes, yes sir, I will.’

  ‘And if you don’t?’

  ‘Then you must keep punishing me even harder.’

  ‘Good. Make sure your skirt stays where it is, then you may rest on your elbows on the desk. Do not look away from the mistake you have made on the typing paper in the typewriter. That is how you will learn, seeing your mistake as you feel the pain of your punishment. Your error will become etched in your mind by the pain and you will learn to do better.’

  Kristy folded the edge of the hem of her skirt into the waistband so that that it would stay in place, then she put her elbows on the table as he had instructed.

  ‘Look at your mistake!’

  She stared at the page in the typewriter.

  He turned his left shoulder towards her as he drew back the long ruler in his right hand.

  ‘Look at your mistake! Do not take your eyes from it!’

  He held the ruler high in the air for a moment - lining up the path it must travel, fixing the place across the midpoint of her buttocks where he intended the blow to land - then, with only one thing in mind, he brought it down hard.

  I felt my jaw dropping. I felt myself gaping. I could not move. I was fixed to the spot - waiting for the ruler to make contact, waiting to hear the smacking crack as it bit into her skin, waiting to see it come away as it sprang against the tautness of her buttocks, waiting to see the red line that it left. Yes, I wanted to see. I wanted to see how red the stripe would be, how angry, how long, how it would follow the curves of her bottom. And I wanted to hear her scream. I wanted to hear her pain. I wanted to feel it vibrating in my head as she released it. I was drawn into what she would suffer, soaked up by it, absorbed by the pain she would feel at his hands.

  It was as if it was all happening in a strange slow motion, and in silence. I heard nothing as the surface of the ruler touched her skin. I saw no movement as it sprang back slowly. It was as of the world had frozen around me, as if no signals were getting through to me and yet still change was going on. Then suddenly, like an explosion it all happened. I saw the flashing descent of the ruler, I heard its swish. I felt the panic within me as it approached. I saw it hit her skin, and flex against it. I watched it come away as her taut bottom sprang against it. I saw the instant red line it left. And as quickly I heard her scream, like an animal - primitive, penetrating, filled only with suffering. And I saw Kristy desperate to keep her elbows on the table, afraid to move, afraid to disobey the orders she had been given, afraid to take her eyes off the mistake she had made, afraid in case she had as yet learned nothing.

  ‘Will you make the same mistake again?’

  ‘No...No...No...’

  I saw the ruler being lifted again. I saw it waiting in the air, waiting from the command of its master, waiting for the command to his limbs to bring it down, to deliver her lesson.

  ‘I don’t believe you!’

  It came down again - noiseless again, frozen in time yet still passing through it, silent yet storing up its explosive crescendo.

  I saw her tense as it struck - like a stiff board - then the wait as the earth caught up, then the screech and the release of all that had been held back, then she was fluid again and she writhed in agony.

  Another red stripe, another welt, another punishing sting another expectation of more.

  ‘And now, have you learned your lesson?’

  ‘Yes...Yes...Yes...’

  Her voice was already frail, shaking, wavering, fearful.

  ‘Yes, I have learned my lesson. I will never make the same - ’

  The ruler came down again before she could finish. It struck her with a loud cracking smack. I saw it catch the delightful oval of her cunt, slicing across it, making her tense in supreme anguish, writhing and struggling to stay in position so that she could face up to her misdemeanour and learn from her punishment.

  I pushed my fingers deeper into my wet cunt. I hung onto the door-frame with my other hand - moaning, drooling, completely engrossed.

  ‘And now, have you learned your lesson now?’

  ‘I have, yes, I - ’

  Another smacking blow, another scream, another cut across her tender naked flesh, another apology, another doubt, another cutting stroke, another howling scream.

  I bent forward to allow my fingers in deeper. I felt something behind me - heat, pressure, another body!

  ‘Like looking eh?’ said a man’s voice.

  I was startled and half turned. A man in a courier uniform was standing
right behind me.

  ‘Like looking, eh?’ he repeated.

  All I could see in my mind was the red stripes on Kristy’s buttocks and cunt. All I could hear in my head were her howling shrieks. All I could feel were my fingers still delving deeply inside my wet cunt and my clitoris pounding against the palm of my thrusting hand.

  The man smiled I think - I wasn’t sure, I didn’t care. I was too overwhelmed with the images and sounds of Kristy’s punishment - I was reeling with them. I saw the man’s neck, exposed above his white collar. I saw the blue veins and I saw the pounding artery running up to beneath the point of his jaw. I did not think, or pause. I did not consider my action or work out an approach. I did not think of the consequences. I heard the ruler smacking down again and I launched myself at him, my mouth open, my teeth bared; the sight of his neck and its veins the only thing in my mind.

  I heard myself growling, I think, again I was not sure. I felt as if an animal inside me had been released. I smelled his skin. I heard his blood pulsating. Yes, I certainly heard that. And I knew that all I wanted was to taste it. I felt my open mouth making contact. I felt my teeth against his skin. I felt them biting - the tension against the flesh, the slow giving away of the weaker to the stronger, the sense of tearing.

  He tried to shake me off - like someone would defend themselves against a stinging bee. I clawed at him. Overcome with eagerness and need. He lashed out at me in a sudden panic. He shouted and kicked and I growled and slobbered. He knocked me to the ground.

  Suddenly I was on the floor - the cool marble tiles against my naked buttocks, my legs shaking, my heart pounding, frothing spit running in a stream from my gaping mouth. I bared my teeth at him. I wanted to leap to my feet and lurch at him again. I felt he was my prey and I would not be stopped in my pursuit of him.

  He looked down at me. I saw his face whiten with terror. I saw a realisation come over him - he was faced with something which terrified him. Me!

  The man ran off. A small crowd gathered around me. I couldn’t get up - I felt so weak. I felt someone reaching down and taking my hand. It was the man with the goatee beard from the courier’s office.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said to the people who had gathered around. ‘No panic, she’s just fainted. She’ll be alright after a sit down. No problem. It’s all over. Nothing to see.’

  He helped me into the office. I was shaking all over.

  ‘Here, sit down, sit down,’ he said as if nothing had happened. ‘You don’t know how lucky you are. I’ve got just the job for you. You could say it’s been waiting for you all your life - it’s just perfect. Kristy! Bring the box! Kristy!’

  My head was swimming. Only minutes ago I had been watching Kristy being punished, I had heard her screaming for mercy, and now she was putting something down on the table as cool as could be. And the man outside. He had run away as if he’d seen a demon. I had wanted so much to taste his blood. I couldn’t believe what had come over me. I had been completely out of control. The thought made me shiver. I went cold. Had I lost control of myself? Was I under the same spell as the flock? Was I a demon?

  Kristy placed a white box on the table between us. She looked under her eyes at me and tried to smile. I could see she was finding it difficult to keep back her tears. I couldn’t believe how everything seemed to have returned to normal, as though what I had witnessed had not happened. I wanted to run my hands up her short tartan skirt and feel the welts on her bottom - just to be sure my memory wasn’t playing tricks.

  ‘Sit down. Sit down,’ said the man launching into a well tried sale patter. ‘There on the table, right in front of your eyes, is your passport to freedom. What’s your name?’

  ‘Syra.’

  ‘Syra, just think of it, passage to a new world. For a few days of your time and enough money to change your whole life! Syra I am the answer to your prayer. Can you believe your fortune?’

  I looked at the box. It was red plastic with a white top and a red carrying handle. On the side was a white circle with a red cross in the centre. Below the circle against a rectangular white background it said in red capitals “HUMAN ORGAN”.

  I pulled back as I read it.

  ‘Nothing to worry about,’ said the man. ‘We’ve all got them. Just think of it as your new life. Just pick up the box and you’re on the way.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s simple. This box needs delivering to Bratislava. You take it on a plane, make sure it gets to the address I will give you and that’s it. No problemo. They’ll pay you on delivery. Enough for you to fly on anywhere in the world. It’s so easy. I really envy you. What a way to travel, eh? You’ll be part of the jet set.’

  ‘Is that all I have to do?’

  ‘It sure is, Syra. Just make sure you deliver the package at the right place at the right time. Pick up your money and on you go. It’s that simple.’

  ‘What do people want with this, this “human organ”?’

  ‘I can’t say. What I can say is that if you can imagine it then somebody’s doing it, and if you can’t imagine it, then somebody’s doing that as well!’

  He laughed loudly at his insight - it was obviously a well tried aphorism.

  It seemed easy - ridiculously easy. There must be a catch. But why should there be? Why not? I thought, Europe again, away from the USA, away from the flock. Yes, he’s right! I could start a new life. Things would be different there. I could be free at last. My concerns suddenly turned to resolve.

  ‘How soon can I go?’

  I’d said it, I’d made a commitment. I was going to change my life at last!

  ‘If you’ve got your passport, you can be on the next flight. It’s a dream ticket! Here, Syra, welcome to the staff of Acme Couriers!’

  MIRANDA

  It felt a bit odd at first - carrying the box - quite a few people stared at it inquisitively, but I soon got used to it. I thought some of them recognised me from the incident outside the Acme Couriers office, but I wasn’t sure. I know I still looked dishevelled, but I didn’t care. I felt excited about the journey, looking forward to something new, leaving the terrors of the past behind.

  I checked in - I’d got a couple of hours to wait. I sat on a spare seat at the “Firewood Grill”. I rested the box on my knees as I stared at a group of men eating barbecued steak on long steel skewers. The red-brown sauce dripped down their chins. One of them stared at me, pushed his hand down the front of his trousers and massaged his cock. I got out my ticket: San Francisco to London. The man at Acme Couriers had given me a note to present at the airline desk for the flight from London to Bratislava. A wave of excitement ran through my stomach. I could hardly believe it!

  The tall woman with short black hair I had seen leaving the courier’s office sat down opposite. She was poised and graceful. She opened a laptop and began tapping the keys with her long red fingernails. She was elegantly dressed in a black suit, white shirt and black tie. She wore tight fitting black leather boots that ended mid calf. Her tight fitting skirt was slit at the side and its hem reached to the tops of her boots. She did not look up and so I stared all the more. There was a name on the lid of the laptop. It was upside down and I struggled to read it. In the end I made it out - “Miranda”. It sounded like the name of a Greek goddess. She suited it perfectly.

  Miranda took a deep breath, closed the lid of her laptop and sat staring ahead. She looked pensive, as though contemplating a task that she had undertaken many times before. She smiled at me fleetingly, got up and went to the restroom. She was very composed and certain - placing her toes forward before letting them touch the ground, allowing her arms to hang freely at her sides, keeping her shoulders well back and her chin high. And she only looked where she was going. That was what struck me most of all. She did not look to the side, nor at anyone else, she was in no way distracted from her purpose - she j
ust looked straight ahead, her mission the only thing on her mind, her focus only on her task. Miranda, I thought, what a beautiful name.

  She stopped for a second at the entrance to the restrooms, looked back for a moment then went inside. I felt a wave of excitement in my stomach. I knew she had smiled at me, beckoned me, I thought. It had only been brief but I knew she was inviting me to follow. Yes, of course, she wanted me to follow her!

  I couldn’t resist it. I got up and walked after her.

  I had only gone a few steps when I realised I had forgotten the box! I turned back in a panic. It was sitting on the leather covered seat where I had left it! I rushed back and grabbed it. My heart was pounding. I felt foolish and ridiculous. A security guard walked past and frowned. I imagined him thinking I had stolen it and I felt a flushing heat on my face. I hurried towards the restroom. I knew my cheeks were red with embarrassment and that fuelled in me an undirected sense of shame.

  It was echoey inside the restrooms - the same buffed marble flooring as the rest of the building glittered around my feet. The walls were covered in sterile, shiny white tiles with a band of black ones at waist height. It smelled of neroli and ylang ylang - sharp and lemony, spicy and refreshing. Even the aroma seemed to be bright beneath the harsh white lights.

  I stopped near the right angled entrance. I could hear voices inside - one smooth and cultured, the other younger, Mexican, eager to please. Ensuring I could not be seen by whoever was on the other side, I looked around the edge of the entrance. It was Miranda. She was talking to a young Mexican girl - a cleaner in a blue overall.

  ‘You take the money...and keep the change...be quick...remember...really cold.’

  I couldn’t hear everything Miranda said. She pressed some dollar bills into the girl’s hand. The girl smiled, stuffed the money into the breast pocket of her overall and started to walk to the entrance.

  I dodged back into the main concourse and stood behind a red and black ice machine.

  The young Mexican girl emerged, mopping the floor absently. She was obviously pretending to do her job while having something else more important on her mind. She half looked up but as soon as I caught her eye she looked down quickly. Her lips were full and pouting. Her breasts were compact and pulled in tightly beneath her light blue overall. I could see that her nipples were hard and pressing out against the thin material. I imagined sucking them. How sweet I thought they would be - springy, youthful and perfectly formed. She rolled the tip of her tongue along her top lip. It glistened in the harsh bright light. I thought of her young wet cunt and imagined my tongue slipping along its moist crack. For a moment I tasted it and when I breathed in I inhaled again its delicate scent.