Heart in a Box Read online

  ‘Nice to make your acquaintance,’ she said in a smooth melodic Californian accent. ‘My name’s Miranda.’

  I was embarrassed and showed it.

  ‘I’m Syra.’

  We shook hands. Her skin felt like silk. Her nails clicked together as she drew her hand away. They made me think of teeth chattering in the cold.

  ‘Don’t be embarrassed.’

  ‘I’m not really...just a bit flustered...rushing for the plane...I nearly missed it!’

  ‘I hope you were delayed by something worthwhile.’

  I felt my cheeks burning. She knew exactly why I was delayed! How could she be so calm?

  ‘Yes...Yes, I was.’

  My cheeks got even hotter. I wanted to sink into the seat and disappear.

  ‘Good. Now, we’ve got a long journey together, so we had better make friends. Here, let me help you with your box.’

  ‘No, it’s fine. I’ll put it up in the locker.’

  I stood up, lifted the box and stretched to get it into the overhead compartment. It was already almost full and I couldn’t get the box in. I stretched more, struggling to reach the back and trying to move some of the other bags and packages that cluttered it up. I stretched further. I knew my short skirt was riding up, I knew I wasn’t wearing any panties and that my naked cunt must be in Miranda’s full view, and I knew that my exposed bottom could be seen by any passenger behind me. I reached my hand back and pulled at the hem but it made little or no difference. I glanced at Miranda - she was staring at my cunt. I had to reach sideways in the locker to wedge the box in and I opened my legs to balance myself. I knew she could see my exposed crack, and I knew she was looking at the glistening slit that ran along its centre.

  ‘Do let me help,’ she said unbuckling her seat belt and standing up as far as she could beneath the lockers. She faced me and reached up between my own outstretched arms. She pressed her breasts against mine - I could feel their heat, their firmness, the pointed harness of her nipples.

  ‘This is Mandy your cabin staff supervisor speaking. I would like to welcome you to BA flight 286 from San Francisco to London Heathrow. I will be responsible for your in-flight comfort. If you have any requirements during the flight please do not hesitate to ask one of the cabin staff who will be only too pleased to help. For the moment, I would ask you all to take your seats and fasten your seat belts as we are taxiing to our take off runway.’

  I strained to push the box into the locker. Miranda pushed harder against me. Now I could feel her hips against mine as she pressed against me. She squeezed her body hard against mine, turned sideways and pushed the box easily to the back of the locker. She turned back, smiled and kissed me fully on the mouth. Her lips were full and soft, satiny and warm. She opened them as she kissed me and I felt her probing tongue entering my mouth. She ran it along the insides of my lips, and then found my own tongue. I opened my mouth wide so that she could push it in as far as possible. It touched the back of my throat. I gagged slightly, but swallowed on it to allow it entry. It was so long!

  She pulled away. For a moment her teeth touched mine - the hard contact sent a quivering thrill through me. I was left gaping, drooling, shivering with excitement. She reached her hand down between my legs and pressed her fingers into the slit of my cunt. The wetness seemed to absorb them.

  ‘See, we can be really good friends.’

  She drew her hand away and sat back in her seat. I sat beside her. My hands were shaking as I tried to buckle up my belt.

  ‘Here, let me help you. What are friends for?’ She reached over to the belt buckle. She noticed her hand was wet from my cunt. ‘Oops!’ she said pulling a tissue from her bag and wiping her fingers. ‘Silly me.’

  I licked my lips as she did up my belt. I could still taste her tongue in my mouth. She pulled the metal clip together and yanked the belt tightly into it. I gasped as she pulled it tight.

  ‘Too tight?’

  ‘A bit, yes.’

  ‘Better safe than sorry though, don’t you think?’

  ‘I suppose, yes.’

  She was so refined and calm - so capable, unflappable. I felt silly in her presence, and yet being with her was comforting, reassuring - I felt looked after, strangely safe.

  As we took off she started adjusting her watch.

  ‘I always change my watch straightaway - it helps don’t you think? With jet lag?’

  I didn’t have an opinion - I didn’t have a watch! The realisation brought on the feeling of stupidity and embarrassment again. Yes, Miranda certainly had that affect on me and I felt my cheeks flush red as the thought passed through my mind.

  We had only been going an hour or so and it began to get dark. We were served a meal - Miranda had the vegetarian option, I ate what I was given. I looked out of the window. The ground below became increasingly barren as we headed out across the northern wastelands towards the land of ice.

  ‘I suppose you’re wondering how I came to be in the restroom? How I came to be in the situation in which you found me? Have your been wondering, Syra? You haven’t mentioned it, but I think I know. Am I right?’

  Everything she said or did caught me off balance. I couldn’t get over how cool she was, and how direct.

  ‘Well, yes, I had really...’

  I felt the flush of embarrassment coming over my cheeks again.

  ‘Oh, Syra,’ she said smiling and dabbing her lips with a tissue. ‘Don’t feel embarrassed. Here, you can have my sweet and I’ll tell you.’

  She pushed an apple tart and cream onto my tray. I picked it up and took a bite. Some of the cream stuck to my lips. I licked it away as she watched me.

  ‘It was a few years ago, now - three or four, I suppose. I met him at a meeting, one of those “change your life” things, you know. He was one of the leaders, said he wanted to start his own religion. A bit ambitious, I thought. Anyway, we hit it off - really well. Actually, it was fantastic. I’d never known anything like it. He had some really strange ideas about treating me in certain ways - as a slave, shut up in boxes or cupboards, exposed in front of his friends, or strangers! He said that doing as he asked was a way of exploring my own feelings to the full. He was right. It was amazing!’

  Her eyes widened as she began to talk about her life. The young red haired chief stewardess - Mandy - took our trays. I pushed up my seat back tray, turned to Miranda and settled back to listen. I pulled a dark blue fleece blanket over my knees. It was almost completely dark outside now. I saw some flashes of whiteness - the ice of the Arctic - then they were gone.

  ‘I enjoyed following his orders,’ Miranda continued. ‘There was something strangely compelling about it. It never felt as if I was just “doing as I was told” - that’s different. I was never compelled; although I never had any choice either. That’s odd don’t you think? I revelled in it, doing what he said. I suppose it was my commitment that made it so exciting, and the things he told me to do, of course. He never held back, never hesitated or disguised his intentions. “Stay here until I come and tell you otherwise” he would say. That was common to start with. I suppose he was testing me right from the start? Yes, maybe he was always testing me out? He never repeated a command. Once was enough. The first time, he left me in a room with a desk and chair, told me to stand behind the desk and wait until he returned. He was away for hours. I wasn’t sure that time if I should sit or not. He hadn’t told me to do either, so I didn’t do anything. I just stood behind the desk waiting. I thought I might rest my hands on the desk when I felt tired or a bit dizzy but again, he hadn’t said, so I didn’t.’

  ‘What happened when he came back?’

  ‘He walked around me first, looking me up and down. I didn’t move. He took out a ruler and measured the distance between the front of my slit and the edge of the table. Then he went away again and left me. He never sa
id a word.’

  I was captivated by her story. I pulled my knees up and wedged my feet against the back of the seat in front. I knew that if I opened my knees a bit she would be able to see my cunt. My stomach filled with anxious excitement at the thought.

  ‘What next? What happened next?’

  ‘I don’t know how long it was - longer than the first time, I think. I stared at the door all the time. I know I was swaying back and forth, but I couldn’t stop myself without putting my hands on the table and I didn’t dare do that.’

  ‘And when he came back, what did he do?’

  ‘He stood in the doorway for a while. I was sure I was still swaying. I couldn’t stop worrying that I had done something wrong. He walked around me again, checking me like before, and then he brought out the ruler and took the measurement again. He frowned and smacked the ruler across the palm of his hand. “You have moved. Only slightly, I admit, but it is measurable. I am not disappointed with you, this is your first task, but clearly there must be punishment. It is the only way to consolidate positive learning.”

  ‘I remained standing, hoping that I could remain still, hoping that the gap between the front of my cunt and the edge of the table did not widen or diminish, hoping he would not decide to take a further measurement. “It is appropriate that the punishment is simple and inflicted by the means of detecting your fault. And it is only a fault. Do not think you have let yourself down. It is an error from which you can learn. And, if you know you are learning, you will more easily be able to make your target perfection. Ah, perfection! Move forward, reach out and slide your hands to the opposite side of the table as you bend over. Feel the smoothness of the table top against the palms of your hands.”

  ‘I was wearing a grey skirt, a black suspender belt, black stockings and black silk panties. I had been wearing a jacket but he had told me to take it off when we had entered the room. He had hung it on a hanger and hung that on the back of the door. I did as he said. It was strange doing exactly as he had ordered, but I was strangely compelled. I wanted to do what he said so much - it was my only need; to carry out his orders, that’s all I wanted to do. I closed my eyes as I reached my hands across the desk - I couldn’t keep them open, my body was overcome with excitement. I grasped the opposite edge of the table and waited. Again, I don’t know how long I stayed like that. I didn’t hear him walk out, or walk around me, or move at all. For all I know it could have been an hour, or longer; it was impossible to tell.

  ‘The next thing that happened was that I felt him lifting the hem of my skirt. He pulled it up so that it rested against the waistband. I knew how exposed I was to him. I knew my cunt was hot. I knew it was getting wet just at the thought of him looking at me. I could see in my mind my bottom covered with the black silky panties, the contrasting lines of the suspender belt and stockings against the paleness of my skin, and I could see his eyes feasting on it all.

  ‘He pulled my panties down slowly, drawing the material against my skin, letting the gusset cling to my wet cunt as it dragged at its soft edges and pulled at my sensitive flesh. Finally, he pulled them all the way down to my ankles. Now I felt completely exposed. I wanted to lift my bottom higher so that he could see the oval of my cunt, so that when he brought the ruler down it would find the tautest of targets, but he had not said that I could move and so I stayed where he had instructed me.

  ‘I sensed something before I felt the ruler making contact. Maybe it was a movement of the air that went ahead of it, maybe it was his hot breath, maybe it was an involuntary move I made and was not aware of - I could not tell, but I felt something. Then it struck - a hard smacking crack. It stung so much! It was so sharp and penetrating - so intense, so burning, so stinging. And again it came down - so rapidly after the first. He gave me no time to recover, no time to know if I had allowed myself to inadvertently flinch.

  ‘In the end I couldn’t help shying away, tightening as it struck - it was impossible not to, and he allowed it. And he allowed me first to moan, then to cry out, and then to shriek, and finally to howl. He did not stop me from showing my delight at pain, and he never has. He says it is essential for the positive learning process - to “express your transition to knowledge from pain” as he put it.

  ‘After he had finished - after he had listened to my shrieking cries and seen that my bottom and the back of my thighs were sufficiently red - he took the ruler and left. He did not speak, did not give me any further instruction, just left in complete silence.

  ‘I waited, spit running from my mouth, tears dripping like rain from my eyes.

  ‘A girl who lived with him came to me in the end, pulled up my panties, pulled down my skirt and helped me to lie down on the floor. She gave me a blanket and later brought me a drink of water. That’s how things carried on - following his instructions exactly, learning never to get anything wrong, being punished so that I could learn to get things right, being taken care of and prepared again for my next lesson in obedience.’

  ‘What other things did you have to do?’

  ‘Syra, I never had to do them I wanted to do them. It was my only wish in the world. I could have left him at any time. I was not a prisoner or a captive.’

  I felt rebuked for not understanding her.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said and opened my knees a little so that she could see easily between my thighs.

  ‘As I learned to follow his orders more precisely, so the tests he set me became more difficult. He did not push me too fast, or overstretch me though. Each stage was carefully regulated - a small mistake or error was punished harshly and this led to a further test and less errors. It was a marvellous regime. I woke every morning waiting for the next instruction, wondering if he considered me ready to move onto the next stage or if I was to be punished for previous error and retested. To start with a lot of it was standing, or leaning over, but soon it became even more physically challenging - having to fit into different small spaces, boxes and cupboards, all manner of confined places. By a careful introduction of new situations he made it easy for me in the beginning, I know that now, but at the time everything seemed a huge challenge. It was really hard to be cramped up in a trunk or a box, not daring to move, not knowing when he would come to assess how well I had done.

  ‘And I saw him less and less. At first it troubled me - not having direct contact with him - but soon I learned that it was not necessary. All that mattered were his instructions and that I learned to carry them out. Sometimes he punished me himself to correct minor faults in my behaviour, sometimes - and increasingly more often - he sent someone else to punish me.

  ‘The first time this happened I received a note to tell me to go to an alley off a dingy part of Nineteenth Street in the Castro district of San Francisco - not very salubrious. It said to face the wall next to a dumpster with a green and yellow “WM” on the side, lift the back of my skirt and pull my panties down. I went to the place as the instruction said - it was easy to find. A couple of winos drank from brown paper bagged bottles nearby. It was dirty and horrible. I faced the wall but when I started to lift my skirt I felt ridiculous and frightened. I couldn’t see anyone else around and the idea of waiting, exposing my bottom like that, seemed absurd. For a moment, I couldn’t believe that I had found myself there, in that position. Then suddenly, I lifted my skirt a bit higher. It was as though something more powerful was in control of me - and it felt so good! I couldn’t believe it! I draped the hem on my waist; bending forward in that dirty alley, my panty-covered bottom exposed, not knowing who or when someone might come to me, or indeed if anyone would come. It was so exciting, so thrilling. I pulled my panties down a little but I couldn’t continue. I was seized, frozen with pleasure; my cunt was wet, my nipples hard and throbbing, a deep aching gripped me between my hips. I felt a surge of joy - I don’t know where it started, but it took my breath away. I felt giddy. I gulped for air. I tried to swallow but my throat was
so dry it was impossible. I pressed my forearms hard against the damp brick wall and tightened my buttocks. I reached around and tried to pull my panties right down. My hands were shaking so much I couldn’t even get a grip on them. Another surge of pleasure ran through me. My head reeled. I knew my bottom was exposed - somehow I had pulled my panties down. But even then I wasn’t completely sure. It was only when I felt the slapping smack of a punishing flat hand against my taut skin that I realised it had truly happened.

  ‘I never looked around. I clawed against the wall - scraping my fingernails against its rough graffiti-covered surface. My orgasm ran through me like a tide as the hand smacked my taut skin and drove me into excess after excess of delight. I slobbered and moaned. I cried out and howled. I felt the moisture of my cunt on the insides of my thighs, but still I never looked around. I never saw who it was - I did not want to know; it was a punishment carried out under his instruction, and that was all that mattered.

  ‘Sometime after it had stopped I slumped to my knees. I felt my mouth being prised open and a hot cock being pushed in between my lips. I sucked until the end swelled against the insides of my cheeks and my mouth was filled with semen. Then there was another and I did the same. Semen dripped down my chin and onto my shirt and tie. I scraped it up with my fingers after they had gone and licked them until they were dry. I stayed there, on my knees, covered in semen shivering every so often with another surge of delight.

  ‘I didn’t leave until it was getting light - I wanted to be sure he had no more instructions for me. I felt dishevelled as I walked down Guerrero Street. Passers-by stared and some made remarks - “Tart! Whore! Bitch!”. I didn’t hear from him for a week and when I did I knew he was pleased with me because my next instruction was to carry out something completely different.

  ‘He kept me shut up in a box for two whole days. He fed me through a straw that he poked through a hole in the side of the box. Sometimes I could hardly breathe, and I got spasms of cramp in my neck and legs. Another time he kept me naked in a wardrobe in a hotel room. I had to stand well inside behind some clothes hanging from a rail. He said I was not to move no matter what happened. Different guests used the room while I was in there and every time they opened the wardrobe I was overcome with a surge of ecstasy that made me so giddy and disorientated that I had to hold onto the rail to prevent myself from falling. One of the guests found me hanging onto the rail. Dragged me out, whipped me with his belt then told me to go back inside.