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Freyja's Falcon Feathered Flight

A battle of wills and thrills.

By Leeza CooperPublished about a year ago 9 min read
2
Courtesy of Pinterest

Perhaps it was the Captain coming back from the cockpit, or perhaps it was the naughtiness of the moment that made Rani feel a sudden and irrepressible need for sex, for the touch of sensuality, perhaps even some pain to extenuate the unexpected erotic experiences. There was no doubt that this beautiful Persian-born woman was in grave danger of being overwhelmed by her mischievous thoughts and her carnal desires.

She closed her favourite book of poems and allowed her mind to wander. Crossing and uncrossing her legs offered her no diminution to the sensations taking hold of her. Her nipples rubbing on the crude fabric of the Niqab only highlighted all her senses. She looked out of the private plane’s window to try to distract herself and saw the pure white clouds covering the North Atlantic 55,000 feet below. And in that moment, she forgot all about the dark ugliness of her past.

She suddenly felt as if she was some kind of ancient goddess, high above humanity, looking down on all the ugliness of man- and womankind. Perhaps the high attitude had gone to her head, or maybe it was the champagne, or was it that time and space stood still above the clouds long enough for her to truly see her real self...a self which was minus the veil, minus the patronising authoritarian Mullahs, minus the elaborate charade.

The atmosphere around her had definitely changed and she began to perspire profusely underneath the weight of her garments and the intensity of her thoughts. She remembered back to when she was a little girl, her mother dabbing her face with a cold wet cloth whilst she attempted to warn her about Freyja and the brilliant jewel encrusted necklace, and her reckless chariot pulled by two evil looking cats.

It wasn’t her fault that during her sleep she had unexpectedly collided with the Valkyrie of the sky and been consumed and tainted by her energy. It was obviously a warning of bad things to come, her mother knew that she too felt its evil presence and she did her best to shield her daughter from the inevitable. Just as the Valkyrie, Freyja was both a conundrum and contradiction. Mythology had her cloaked in commanding black falcon feathers whilst possessing angelic feline features so fine she could seduce any mere mortal to his death. And so did Rani. She too, out of absolute necessity, had metamorphosed into a dark menacing but beautiful Valkyrie. It was this persuasive allure associated with love, beauty, fertility, sex, war, and gold that had secured her flight back into Tehran.

Glancing out the plane window Rani observed the strange exotic eeriness of the darkening horizon as they rapidly approached the Middle East after flying across the Atlantic, and then down the length of the Mediterranean. Her body was a mix of erotic, sensual, bizarre feelings intertwined with pangs of anger and vengeance.

She suddenly wanted to leap out of the plane, and fly down towards the earth, screaming at the top of her voice like an avenging Valkyrie, “Fuck the lot of you.”

It had taken all her strength, tenacity and perseverance to convince the Iranian consulate to allow her back into a country from which she had absconded. For decades after her abduction and forced marriage to the rotten evil former Army Commander, and subsequently Defence Minister Ali Shahzad, she had been raped and abused by him, and when he’d had his pleasure, she’d been handed over to his acolytes and ordered to pleasure their needs. Yet despite the indignities, she always maintained an unwavering outward appearance of calm, serene, opulence and sophistication.

And here she was flying in on a wing and a prayer right back into the rotten bowels of hostile territory. All sense of calm had left her body and now there was a stark and notable difference in her energy. This time however she was returning armed, fully loaded and in complete control of her wings. Today she was barely recognisable, her delicate white plumage replaced by gargantuan threatening wings glistening on the horizon like sharp slithers of glass.

She thought back to when she was in demand as a successful fashion model turned entrepreneur in New York City, and how she had created her own nest egg of security and protection. How two decades away from her birthplace of Tehran had allowed her to rejuvenate, grow, expand and sprout new shiny black feathers. It was inevitable that her old childhood enigma Freyja would return and make good on a promise she had made with her as a child, that together they would return to Tehran and put right past wrongs.

As one of the most powerful Valkyrie’s in the sky, entrusting her sword and her shield as long as Rani remained true to her own mission, the two of them couldn’t lose this battle. Together they were a formidable force of nature and pleasure, at once menacing but erotic, ineluctable yet liberating.

Slowly, Rani ran her fingers up her long slender legs, dragging her sharp fingernails against her warm and giving skin until she reached the upper parts of her legs, where she could feel the moistness. She responded with a visceral thrill to the fact that her fingernails were digging into her flesh. In the Muslim world of Iran, and in Arabia in general, where she had grown up, everything underneath the Niqab was forbidden to anybody but a husband, yet she loved being in control of herself; especially since power of her own body, even her mind, was stolen from her by General Ali Shahzad when she was little more than a child.

She parted her legs a little wider, teasing herself, not just physically, but also with her mind, imagining that some wild primordial spirit had placed himself or itself next to her, and was hot and willing, dying to devour her and wanting to feel every inch of her human flesh. Floating in her true essence allowed her to unleash all her dirty secrets that had been hiding in the shadows of her dreams, buried beneath the layers of self protection and death of her soul. She was often depicted by the media as an extreme beauty, dressed mostly in black with a dark halo, emerging from her sexy lair, the depths of the underworld, despite her affluent Manhattan address.

Even though her friends, and the captain of the aircraft were just a couple of meters away, she was totally oblivious to them, and even to her surroundings. Rani closed her eyes, licked her lips, and continued to feel the insides of her thighs, not even worrying whether anybody was looking at her.

She tilted her head back, and imagined herself being sucked into a vacuum of tentacles caressing every inch of her body, her breathing now becoming heavy and deep and laboured. All of a sudden, without warning she smelt the smoldering notes of syrup and brown sugar, frankincense and myrrh, a fragrant mix of masculinity and femininity, an all encompassing feast. Her heart raced as she felt a light warm feathering of fingers across her breasts.

Any normal woman would have opened her eyes in shock. But Rani was so deeply immersed in the eroticism, that the feeling of another person’s fingers could have been real or could have been part of her erotic fantasy. To open her eyes now would have brought reality into her fantasy, and she didn’t want to spoil a moment of her magic. So she allowed this other person…or maybe it was her imaginary entity, to continue to consume her body. Rhythmically they pushed her senses with a gentle humming which crept its way from the top of her head all the way down across her belly, down her long slender legs and into her toes. She parted her lips in anticipation of the orgasm to come.

Desperate to be kissed, she leaned towards the other seat, hoping beyond hope that it wasn’t just her imagination, but that there was a person sitting there, sharing in the delicious eroticism of the moment. Her eyes still closed, Rani felt the sudden heat of another’s lips on hers.

But who could this lover be? Her eyes still tightly closed, she responded, and allowed her tongue to flick lightly across the other’s lips. Could it be Stephan her personal assistant…no, he was definitely gay; could it be the handsome Captain? Perhaps, but would he risk such an assault on a woman he didn’t know? Was it her Valkyrie companion in the sky? Was she so consumed in the essence of Freya that she had summoned her lover right to her into the plane.

As her mind wandered the landscape of her desire, she felt the familiar and welcoming wave of an orgasm rising up from her legs to her lips. She moaned as she came strongly, building and building in unstoppable intensity, against her secret lover’s touch. She was so desperate for the relief. It had been so incredibly tense for her during the past two weeks, that this moment of heightened sexual tension was what she’d craved in her mind and body.

She dared not open her eyes yet to see who her lover was. She wanted to keep the reality in the realm of fantasy. She sat back, and tried to gain some composure, and felt her lover withdraw his potent energy and then slip away as silently as he’d approached her.

She sat back, and reality grew back within her. Opening her eyes and looking out the window she could see the bright lights of the landing strip approaching quickly and she could feel and hear the engines thrusting backwards in an attempt to slow its entry. How ironic she thought to herself, perfect timing.

Taking a sip of water from the bottle in the console, she looked around at her female colleagues and Stephan. But there was no indication as to which one of them it might have been.

She’d have to ask them to smell their breath, in order to determine who was her phantom lover. She thought back to the words of one of her favourite poems, Kublai Khan

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

But who was her demon-lover? She was desperate to know. It might alter the whole tenor of this trip if suddenly somebody she had never had sex with could become her lover.

But none of the girls looked over towards her. They hadn’t noticed. Perhaps she’d dreamed the moment, and had an orgasm in her sleep. Yet she was still wet between her legs.

And then, over the headphones, she heard the captain’s voice. Deep, sonorous, sexy and masculine, “Well ladies, we will be landing in Saudi Arabia in approximately ten minutes so please wait until we have landed and finished taxing before you take your seatbelts off thank you. And to the beautiful lady sitting in seat 14B, welcome back onto the plane and congratulations for joining the Mile High Club.”

Rani looked up in shock and embarrassment. Then she glanced around at the others, who hadn’t heard a thing, because the captain had obviously made the announcement patching in specifically to her personal headphones, and not to the cabin. Thank God, she thought to herself, as she busied packing her belongings ready for landing. It was then that she picked up the poetry book near her feet that must have fallen during her tryst with her secret lover. Staring disbelievingly at its open page she saw a black shiny feather marking its place and then she read;

The wind of the world was wild, and it mocked human expectations. But it wasn't the wind that carried you. It was the flex of the wing and the spread of the feathers. It was up to you how far to fly and how to come home again.

By Alex London.

By Leeza Cooper

Short Story
2

About the Creator

Leeza Cooper

Leeza Cooper, a devotee, artiste, creator of published literature & poetry; Studied Degree CU, founder/president of Wheels & Dolls SMC; raising funds for DV, lover of travel, nostalgia & anything vintage.

Ms Australia International 2023.

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

Top insights

  1. Compelling and original writing

    Creative use of language & vocab

  2. Easy to read and follow

    Well-structured & engaging content

  3. Excellent storytelling

    Original narrative & well developed characters

  1. Heartfelt and relatable

    The story invoked strong personal emotions

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Comments (2)

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  • Scott Jacobs about a year ago

    Always look forward to your next piece. Thought provoking and original, there is nothing else like it here.

  • Lexi Sapphire Roseabout a year ago

    Beautiful ❤️❤️

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