By | July 29, 2006

“Men are weak and destined to destroy themselves. It is our duty to protect those weaker or less fortunate than ourselves, nurture them, guide them, educate them. We must use every means at our disposal to help these poor creatures, whether they like it or not.” , From “Of Men”, Chapter 2, Rebekah 2092AD.

Chimes rang out across London from the clock tower of the Palace of Westminster.

Twenty-four 16 year old girls dressed in identical blue school uniforms, clutching identical clipboards gazed up in awe. “This isn’t the original clock tower of course. That was destroyed during The Great Emancipation.” Said their teacher Miss Clifford. Two dozen pens scribbled “Destroyed during GE …”. “And of course the original site is now under several meters of water.” Miss Clifford waved her hand in the general direction of the Thames estuary.”

“The original was a very unimpressive structure, a mere 96 meters tall. What you are looking at is what womankind rebuilt.” Miss Clifford smiled proudly and puffed up her chest as if she had helped in the construction of the 300 meter steel and glass tower. “The original bells were broken during the collapse of the tower and the metal re-melted. Does anyone know what the biggest of them is called? Yes, Chlorissa.”

“Big Beth Miss”, proclaimed a mousy haired girl at the back of the group, still waiving her hand furiously.

“Exactly right Chlorissa.” Now girls, back to the hotel. Another trip on the Levitube isn’t that exciting?”. The girl’s collectively agreed it was.


Penelope Vaughn, President of the United Kingdom was enjoying a hot tub with her two secretaries, Jen and Melanie. More accurately, she was enjoying them enjoy each other. It was picturesque setting, one of her official residences which overlooked the bay of Norfolk, the shallow lagoon that had once been East Anglia.

She sat across from them, observing their naked bodies as they stroked each other. Their mouths were locked in an interminable kiss. Their hands roved over each other’s necks, shoulders, arms and breasts. And what breasts! Penelope knew how to select staff. These two where well matched. Totally different in physique, but sexually ravenous and a pleasure to watch and to indulge in.

Jen had shoulder length dark-blonde hair with the slightest of curls and crystalline blue eyes, about 1.5 meters tall and was beautifully curvy. Mel on the other hand was a slender 1.7 meter siren who possessed jet-black straight hair that terminated between her shoulder blades, her eyes were a gentle grey-green like milky jade.

Penelope noticed that Jen’s nipples seem to be almost permanently erect, a state of affairs that was encouraged by the passionate massaging they were receiving from Mel’s lithe fingers. Penelope’s hand slipped under the water and between her lips. Her clitoris was swollen and begging for her digital caresses. She was so aroused that the first gentle touch of her middle finger sent shivers arcing across her body. She lost her grip on her champagne glass but didn’t notice it shatter as it fell to the stone slabs around the tub.

Mel’s hand slid beneath the foaming water too, searching out Jen’s precious bundle of nerve endings and making them hers. Jen’s hips twisted and turned slowly as Mel rubbed her clit and swollen labia. Their lips parted, and Jen leant back against the edge of the tub, arms holding onto the rim for support, letting her body float freely. Mel gently eased two fingers inside Jens hot opening and gently massaged her g-spot.

Jen’s eyes were now closed, her lips pursed, “Mmmh” she crooned.

Penelope was imagining Mel working on her pussy. Penelope knew Mel was good with her hands, Jen excelled with her tongue, the three of them always drifted off to sleep together in a warm post-orgasmic cocoon. That was for later, the tangle of arms, legs, breasts, and tongues that rounded off their nights together.

Penelope’s free hand found its way to her breast. Her clitoris was tingling, a breath away from orgasm. The look of intensity on Mel’s face and Jen’s eyes, now partly open and rolled back in her head, added to her decadently voyeuristic excitement.

Penelope came, warm waves of carnal release washing across her body. The orgasm ebbed leaving her in a comfortable syrupy haze. It was the perfect state to watch Mel toying with Jen, bringing her to the point of orgasm, then denying it. Jen was a slave to Mel’s touch, needing it yet resenting the withdrawal of stimulation when she approached release. Knowing that when the moment came it would be all the better for the wait.

Jen began to shake signalling the start of her orgasm. It possessed her, causing her to grasp the rim of the tub until her knuckles went white. Mel smiled, enjoying the spectacle, and glanced across to Penelope.

“You’re going to get a tongue lashing for that.” Observed Penelope.

“Oh, I do hope.”


The Levitube train sped through the tunnels underneath London back to their hotel. The girls sat on the green upholstered seats giggling and laughing as the train sped towards Harrow. Miss Clifford was standing, holding one of the straps that hung from the carriage roof. She smiled cordially, enjoying the site of an orderly class of well motivated, appreciative students.

The lights in the carriage dimmed slightly. The girls ceased their reveries. Miss Clifford sought to reassure them, “Just a glitch in the powe …”. She never got to finish the sentence as the train lights went out and she was thrown forward by the deceleration as the carriage landed on the bottom of the tunnel and emergency braking slowed the train,

When the dim emergency lights flickered on she found her head was bleeding from a glancing collision with the seats, her knees and hands felt raw and bruised, But other than that she was unharmed. The girls had fared better, cushioned by the airbags which had deployed from the seats in front of them, but they were beginning to murmur and panic was imminent.

“Now girls, don’t be alarmed, the emergency services will be here shortly. It’s just a power failure that’s all.” The carriage door to her left hissed open. “Now why don’t we all sing a song to keep our spirits up? How about …”

The girls never heard her suggestion for the instilment of campfire camaraderie as a dark shape leapt into the carriage, scooped up Miss Clifford and dragged her into the darkness of the tunnel.

Chlorissa screamed.


Penelope, Mel and Jen lay in their Queen-sized bed, drifting off to sleep. The telephone rang, jarring them from their repose like a bucket of ice water.

Penelope picked up the handset. “YES!”, she snapped. A disembodied voice said five chilling words, “We have a Fallen Angel.”

“What’s wrong?”, asked Jen concerned by Penelope’s furrowed brow.

“A fallen Angel”, said Penelope flatly.

“A fallen Angel?”

“Abduction of a citizen by a man.”