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Nathan Barr Hostel
That is the last time I ever go backpacking across Europe. I figured it might be fun to cut loose any shackles and head for climates new for a change of scenery and watching Before Sunrise prior to departure made it all seem so romantic. Three weeks away from the banality of everyday life and, more critically, three weeks of learning about other countries’ traditions and folklore. It seemed like a no-brainer so, when the opportunity presented itself to make the pilgrimage, I had my rucksack packed before you could say torture porn.
I decided to travel light as I fully intended on sampling the local cuisine so a couple of sachets of instant noodles and a wheel of cheese made up my itinerary; there seemed no point in over-encumbering myself with unnecessary baggage and, besides, when else was I likely to be in Slovakia? Supplies were secondary to experience on this occasion and I made sure I had enough currency to see me through. At least that is how it started; before I knew it my finances had nose-dived considerably and I was beginning to wonder where the next meal ticket would be coming from.
I decided against traveling solo so invited my dear brother C. William Giles along for the ride and he gratefully accepted. Working full-time in a hospital meant that he saw his fair share of grisly injury detail on a daily basis and I figured he could do with a nice peaceful hiatus. We were all prepared for some crucial male bonding time and packed as much into the first two weeks as was feasible. This included a peep show in Amsterdam, casino in Budapest and guided tour of Auschwitz which moved us both to tears. Money well spent then, although spent it most certainly was, we soon found ourselves strapped for cash and there was still another week’s travel to fund.
Our fortunes appeared to take a turn for the better when we met a couple of curvaceous young ladies on the train. Their names were Natalya and Svetlana and they were heading to a hostel in Slovakia which boasted cheap rates and second-to-none in-house entertainment. It didn’t take much convincing as the alcohol was running freely by the time the suggestion was made and they were clearly coming onto us so we nodded our approval like a couple of excitable Jack Russells. Between us we had just enough to cover our board and it meant having a warm roof over our heads which sure beat seven more days of star-gazing whilst freezing our assholes closed. Plus, Giles wasn’t as comfortable with the concept of spooning; that Brokeback Mountain took all of the innocence out of the old two men, one field scenario.
Upon our arrival we were astonished at just how hospitable folk seemed to be. They literally couldn’t do enough for us and treated us like royalty. We were given the guided tour of their spa, massage parlor, swimming pool and bar; Giles was particularly intrigued by the lattermost and promptly made his way back there as soon as we had been shown our room. The girls were due to join us there for a midnight nightcap and there were a few hours to kill so I plumped on a little TLC and booked in a massage while my brother sank a few pitchers of Slovakian ale.
They had a slot available and it was with their head masseuse Olga whose hands were reportedly capable of great wonders. The name had me somewhat concerned, when thinking Olga I imagined some flabby Fräulein with sausages for fingers and breasts like a brace of saturated ostrich eggs. Thankfully my estimations were way off base. Knee high leather boots with ten inch heels, a tight-fitting PVC dress and hair in pig-tails; suddenly my considerations turned to the obligatory happy ending. She gestured for me to strip down and cover my groin with a towel which was sized more like a face flannel and indicated that she would be back to complete the treatment in a few minutes so I promptly did exactly as she requested. Never leave a lady waiting.
We really appeared to have struck pay-dirt with our chosen digs. My knotted muscles were crying out to be kneaded after weeks of sleeping rough in meadows and the like. Moreover I was prepared for any bonuses she threw my way and, considering the Slovaks are far less stuffy and reserved than the British, I knew full well that it would culminate in me shooting the love beans. By the time she did return, the towel had left its spot and my fully pitched monster was growling proud and primed to spit its approval. Game well and truly on, I thought, and I settled back and closed my eyes in anticipation.
When I opened them once more she was astride me and I could feel her quim pulsating against my navel. I exhaled a short breath and it was accompanied by a faint quiver in my nether regions as she slid back until it was propped against the curvature of her lower spine. There was absolutely no way I was misinterpreting her intent, this was going to get freaky for sure and this mild-mannered English gentleman was ready to show off his inner beast. I spared a thought for Giles, of course, as I knew he’d be kicking himself over not partaking but there was plenty of time and I planned on having plenty of tattle to tell on my return to the lounge bar.
I hadn’t anticipated being bound to the gurney but took it in my stride as I understand different countries have varying traditions and you just have to roll with it as best you can. She commenced with my wrists and strapped them tightly to the iron fixing behind my head. What really got my engine revving at full horsepower was the way she chose to restrain my ankles. She arched her back and I felt my member sliding into her sap-filled center as she did. Quite the contortionist, she bent right back to accommodate my sex and the shackles were placed while I lay there trembling with intense pleasure. The aristocratic side of me had vanquished by this point, thus my rigid cock was at full length inside her gyrating pussy.
Her next action threw me a little, if truth be known. She reached for a hand-control hanging beside us and, upon flicking the switch, a giant metal grate to my left begun to raise. Behind a single glazed viewing window was an audience; mostly businessmen, they were too busy tapping away on their smart phones to give so much as a cursory glance. I’ll admit I was a touch perturbed at first by the notion of my defilement being made public but, on second thoughts, it was just making me all the harder. If this was how she wished to play it then who was I to piss on convention? By hook or crook I was going to bag myself this happy ending, whether tied, gagged or televised.
The frenzied crowd suddenly fell silent and, with that, the lights dimmed around me. A crude spotlight blazed on above my position and it appeared it was time to cash in my chips. Another smaller light shone down to my right and it highlighted a set of apparatus which changed the tone entirely. Forceps, saws of the bone and hack variety, a cordless drill and an elongated chisel; and not one of them sterilized. More disparaging was the empty look in her eyes, they lacked any kind of warmth and were thoroughly destitute of pity. I was in a spot of bother here, a real fix.
The wind would have been excused for leaving my sails at this point but, bizarrely, I was still rock hard inside her. No white flag, just the proud national ensign at full mast. It wasn’t that I was under any sort of misconception over her intention either. I knew I was in a quandary, to say the very least, but something about that invigorated me further. A few months back I walked straight into the business end of a metal door and lacerated my cranium. As the blood trickled down my face I felt aroused by its warm glow against my skin. Call me a sicko but this was both my worst nightmare and most lurid fantasy all rolled into one. I gave up any faint struggle and succumbed to her torment.
She started with the bone saw and placed it right about my elbow. I felt it pinch as it teased my skin and couldn’t help but will it on. Then it made its punctuation and, I have to say, it smarted like all fucking hell. She began to carve away through the surface layers and soon hit the tendons in my forearm. It was sweet agony and I felt a guttural twinge which reached right down to my balls and ignited them with passion. I could barely halt the flutter of my eyelids and the coppery bile which began to rise in my larynx but adrenaline had now kicked in and that took the edge off considerably, albeit momentarily.
Finally, after some persistence, the blade made contact with steel and my aperture was removed from its spurting root. As she sheared away any last stubborn flesh strands I felt myself cum and, to her eternal credit, she did me the honor of reciprocating my orgasm with one of her own. Our synchronicity was beyond invigorating but I swiftly regretted my decision to shed the shells. To be fair, it had stopped being my choice to make. That moment post-cumgate is a distinct turning point for most males and ordinarily lighting up a cigarette is our first port of call afterwards. There was no nicotine on hand to counter the searing pain and I began to feel my consciousness ebbing away.
This time she reached for the chisel and placed it on the top row of my teeth as she prepared to shatter my grill. She may well have had a valid masseuse license of authenticity on her wall but I discerned nothing about her qualification as an orthodontist so I decided the time was nigh to conclude coitus. With one arm now free it afforded me advantageous movement and I clouted her full-on in her face with my stump, knocking her lengthways to the floor below. It possibly pained me as much as it did her but I fought through it as I knew the window of opportunity was slight.
She was temporarily dazed which bought me time to remove my constraints and wriggle free from the gurney. I had already lost too much blood to be comfortable with but those lat few drops of adrenaline kept me just about vertical while I lodged my bid for escape. I tried the door but it was securely fastened and the key chain was attached to her waist band. It was no time for procrastination so I about-turned and gave her kidney a firm kick to ensure her passive stance while I rummaged. After wrenching them free and fumbling through them with my one remaining hand I finally found the capital key and made my hasty retreat.
I was now in a dank corridor and guards were approaching from all fronts so I hurtled towards the least threatening warden and bowled him over where he stood. Nothing was going to stop me, survival was absolutely paramount. At the end of the corridor was a large steel door and I practically fell through it, landing back in the main foyer in the process. Now I was back on familiar turf and my primary concern was Giles. I had to locate my brother before the same inexplicable fate that was pre-ordained for me befell him. The bar was on the same floor, about two hundred yards but I wasn’t required to travel that far as he was already making way back with both Natalya and Svetlana draped across his arm looking like the cat that got the cream.
While evidently inebriated, he sobered up instantaneously when he spotted my blood-spattered frame ambling towards him. “Dude. What the fuck?” He was gobsmacked but still managed to be pragmatic in spite of my gory revelation and swathed my stub in his shirt which was off his back in no time. “We…we have to get out of here yesterday.” That was all I needed to say for him to respond “Aye lad” and drop Natalya and Svetlana like a pair of spent oviums, whilst carrying me away from any imminent danger like I was Debra Winger. He may not be an officer but he sure is a gentleman.
We never did get our deposit back and have barely got enough for the long journey home but we’d walk it if it come to that. Anything would be preferable to spending a single night under that hellish roof. Let’s keep things real, the massage was pretty fucking amazing right up until any do-it-yourself surgery and Giles never had to foot his bill for drinks but the pleasure to pain ratio was just too extreme for my liking. I don’t wish to put a hole in the Slovakian tourist trade but, should that be your destination, just make damned sure you don’t go slumming it.
Truly, Clearly, Really, Sincerely,
Keeper of the Crimson Quill
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Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2014