After weeks of waiting we finally got the call to go to the airport in the last week of December, though it was still earlier than I expected. We packed hurriedly as if our chance would dissipate should we be too slow. And the possibility was indeed all too real since there were rumors of increasingly strict travel bans being enacted. Cindy was absolutely frantic as we strode the empty streets to the airport. What did she know that I didn't?
Sitting nervously in plastic chairs in the empty terminal I reflected on my time with Cindy, Mathis, and Steve. It was a lifetime of experiences and sexually charged novelties. I felt like I'd done it all. I mean, I'd had sex with a number of guys, a pregnant girl, been in a gang bang, been dressed like a sissy. By all my imagination nothing was left to try.
We just needed to make it through the next few hours and we'd be home free. Meanwhile, Mathis was free of Cindy's control, yet we all continued to hang out. I would miss her, and them, on the other side.
I thought she'd been reading my mind as she passed me a note: "Mile high invitation. Meet me at noon." I smiled at her mischievously, but she motioned toward the stewardess at the check-in counter. The note was not from Cindy but instead from the hot hot employee in the sharp blue uniform. A woman like that had never indicated any interest in me, let alone come on to me so strongly - surely Cindy had arranged this. I wasn't going to complain, and it was probably somehow intended to smooth the way for our journey.
Looking out the large pane window decorated in garland and tiny sparkling holiday lights, I saw the plane taxi up. It was an Airbus A318: huge and opulent and decadent beyond what should be allowed. I chuckled, as if I knew enough to know what should or shouldn't be allowed.
The mysterious lady led me straight to the Stewards quarters while the rest of my band were seated off to the side somewhere. Just before leaving me Cindy explained that the plane belonged to the diplomats from the top floor of our hotel and she'd managed to find a way to get us on board. There had been no other way since all domestic flights had been cancelled only hours before. I assumed she gave her body up back at the hotel. Even pregnant she was still hot, hotter to me I suppose than to others.
I looked for a bathroom where the foxy, uniformed and long legged woman who called herself Minkova, and I, could consummate my initiation into the club. But she just approached me cat-like, right there among the rows of chairs that folded down from the wall. Any one of the other employees could enter at any moment.
Without a care in the world she placed her sensuous hands on my shoulders then kissed down my chest, her fingers trailing behind. Deftly she undid my belt and pants and began with no warm-up.
Gazing down at her blonde head with the green holly barrette in it, I wondered about the potential. Could this be the start of something special? Could I manage a long distance relationship in the age of pandemics?
It was a skillful yet perfunctory blowjob which brought me off too quickly and with little time to appreciate it. Then it was over and so was any illusion I had of love or even affection.
Standing, she left my spent member in lonely solitude, then patting my chest dismissively said, "That's so you...last. You deserve a chance."
She grabbed my hand and started leading me hurredly through the luxurious and spacious aisleway while I struggled to put myself away and zip up, stumbling as we went. We passed spacious living rooms, an elegant home theatre, and a mahogany lined yet ultra modern conference room.
There seemed to be as many stewardesses as passengers. And they were all equally hot. I guessed the wealthy flyers expected no less.
Apparently it wasn't all they expected, as I passed this one guy and his server, I overheard. "Is there anything else I can get you sir?" He glanced at the floor between his legs and she instantly and dutifully knelt there ready to serve without question. I was shocked less by her behavior than the over the top trappings of extreme wealth and power displayed all around.
Meanwhile I followed Minkova further back, receiving my instructions the whole way. Mr. Big expects you to be completely straight, innocent, and most of all unwilling. At no time are you to cooperate or worst of all want it. Understood? If you're a good actor all will go well...if not you may end up like the others." There was a cold chill to the warning in her voice.
She handed me a silver serving tray loaded with nutmeg scented drinks, saying, "Go in and wait with a proper servile attitude."
The back bedroom was larger than our whole hotel suite had been. Unlike the modern businessy feel of the forward section of the plane it was decidedly gothic. Red walls. Velvet curtains. Dim lights that looked like flaming torches - though that couldn't be true on a plane. Bulky furniture and an even bulkier four poster bed adorned the chamber as well.
My eyes adjusted to the low light whereupon I then observed rows of subdued naked human forms lining one wall. They were constrained in various positions with their cocks, balls and nipples tortuously bound or clamped, and their bodies contorted into tangled poses.
From a distance no one seemed to be in any immediate pain or otherwise anxious to escape. But clearly none could.
I walked down the row examining each helpless soul in the veritable museum of B & D while balancing my tray precariously.
The first one I came to was bound intricately tight with rounds and rounds of brilliant white rope, circling his limbs and torso, and digging into his contrasting muscular ebony flesh. The knots were a study in artistic complexity. Miles of rope held him standing in place, occasionally linked to the wall so he couldn't fall over. So much rope wound this way and around, that I could barely determine if he was naked or clothed beneath.
Next in line was a hulking weightlifter type constrained by chains, as if his great strength required metal rather than cotton. His oiled body glistened and he too was held up where the chains were connected to the wall. He looked into my eyes blankly, neither pleading for release nor communicating any great desire. I would have enjoyed him roughly forcing me to suck his plump cock, but his helplessness made him lose all sex appeal for me.
The third guy was duct taped and restrained by biting zip ties. The idea took hold that this place seemed more a display of various bondage techniques than a prison. The intent was clearly more about demonstrating the skillful application of the methods than in holding back the...actors?
Fourth was a thin wiry dude wrapped fittingly in barbed wire. A drop of blood escaped where one barb pierced his damaged skin, but upon closer inspection most of the barbs were rubber and caused no harm.
Further down the line a fully dressed and handsome athletic man was bound with a multitude of orange and black bungee cords. His clothing implied a pilot of some sort and I only hoped he wasn't the pilot who was supposed to be flying this plane. But no jumbo jet pilot would be wearing a flak suit like his. Just then the plane ascended sharply but in control, proving the point. But why was he allowed clothing while the others were shown so lewdly?
A nylon clad man was suspended in the air, swaying slightly with the plane's motion. Pinstripes ran down the back of his pantyhose which were rolled down to expose his ringed sex organs. He was tied tightly with additional nylons. In fact he was tied completely by various colored silk stockings, panties, or hose. Black ones bound his ankles. Red ones tied his wrists where they looped into a ring above his head. This of course caused his nyloned feet to hang limply and sexily. A green stocking gag was tied in his mouth with the ends hanging low. My eye was caught by writing, and looking closely I could see that all the nylons were autographed in black marker. I couldn't discern the reason but I recognized many of the names: Chuck Shumer, Bill Clinton, Pence, Romney, and even Putin among other unknown names. This room held far more bewildering import than I previously thought.
After him I spied a latex/plastic/rubber sex doll propped up in a chair made of black pipes. With closer inquiry I perceived that it was breathing. Then I saw a man's eyes inside the silicone female doll, darting from side to side: a living human literally made into a sex toy. He sat with his legs lifted high, ankles resting on the pipes. Cheap fake hair cascaded down his too firm breasts. Rubbery nipples waited to be pinched and below, a molded female pussy was positioned just a little too low to be anatomically correct. Any cock which fucked that doll's cunt would find ingress in his deceptive asshole instead. This was the first victim who seemed not so willing. Being in the air, there was no rescue now and the bizarre realities in the room confused me all the more.
Walking along I heard ragged breathing from a bent over body with vacuum cylinders on his nipples and cock. The suction pulled his nipples obscenely into the glass tubes while down below the suction caused his dick to be engorged to immense proportions. How big would his cock have been naturally? How were the men chosen for their particular torture? How heavy was the weight hanging pendulously from his agonized testicles?
My thoughts turned to myself. Was I owed some twisted fate too? Was there any hope for me if the author of this room was too wicked and powerful to resist?
In a packing-crate box, with only his ass and gonads protruding through a gaping hole, a pale man awaited whatever abuse was destined to be his. His dick fell flaccid and unaroused declaring that the sexual nature of this was solely for his captors benefit and not his.
Huge wooden beams formed an X shaped cross upon which hung a tanned and blindfolded rugged explorer. His arms and legs were bolted to the wood by metal bands. His body seemed healthy enough, even if his spirit was weakened. Multi-color gruesomely bruised balls hinted at the reason. As I walked slowly past he whispered hoarsely, "Hit me again, Sir." I guessed he wasn't so oppressed as I imagined. Did all these men have agency, or not? I shivered at the possibilities even as I comforted myself with the lie that they were all fully consensual participants.
Taking another few steps further into the den I spied a chubby man in a shiny black latex bodysuit. Metal rings were sewn into the outfit which then connected him to the hideous piece of art they were all a part of. Wires emerged in various places, running to a transformer nearby.
I crept forward conflicted at how I was appreciating the lithe tan body of an attractive girl with her hands tied seductively above her head. She reached desperately with her toes, barely making contact with the floor, to relieve the strain on her wrists. The manacles that held her were the only restraints, making her the least bound of everyone I'd seen so far. She didn't even have a gag like the others. The way she was stretched her large firm breasts jutted out while the flesh just below her ribcage was hallowed in.
I could see that she was uncomfortable, but yet she was smiling devilishly. Not sure I wanted to hear the answer I asked her, "Do you need anything? Do you want to escape?"
"Fuck no!" Was her vehement answer. "This is my greatest fantasy."
