A few weeks ago I woke from sleep near to orgasm, having had a very strange dream fragment in which I was flying alone on a plane and a strange man next to me pressed against the outside of my breast and then put a hand on my thigh. That seems so mild! But I awoke soaked, the image would not leave my head and the rest of the scene quickly filled itself in. The story persisted in my thoughts until I had to write it down. Logistically, it is impossible. Legally, it is insane. It deals with themes of nonconsent/reluctance, forced orgasm, praise/begging, gang bang with incidental MMMF contact. Everyone is over 18, etc., in real life people need to prenegotiate scenes and take infection precautions. There's a little bit of setup before the filthy stuff, maybe two minutes reading. I've written 4 scenes, each one with a different tone.
Flying sucks. Rachel thought to herself as she stowed her overhead bag and slumped into her seat. At least I have an aisle seat. Well, 8 hours until London! Goodbye New York for the next two weeks! She tucked her water bottle, tablet, phone and earplugs into the seatback pocket, her overnight bag under the seat in front of her and wedged her neck pillow by her right hip. She was an experienced traveler and had all her comforts well organized. She subtly toed her sneakers off, and started to get her mind ready for about 6 hours of broken sleep. She was traveling in a hoodie and leggings to help make sleep easier.
"Excuse me, my ticket is for 17B. Sorry to bother you." She looked up to see a man in the aisle blandly looking at the seat next to her. He was slightly rumpled, and tired looking, or maybe distracted. She hopped up and into the aisle to let him pass. He moved into the seat and bent forward to shove his bag under the footwell. "My name's James. I hope it'll be a quiet flight, don't you?"
Ugh a talker. "I'm sure it'll be fine," she answered a bit primly, leaving off her name. He seemed to catch the hint and shrugged before pulling out a crime novel and minding his own business. At least he was a simple medium sized man, his shoulders, knees, and elbows didn't try to take over her space. He didn't smell. Small wins.
The boarding soon finished, preflight checks were completed. The flight was only half full, unusual in these days but welcome for an overnight flight. There didn't seem to be anyone rowdy. Everyone learned about exit rows, oxygen masks and seatbelts, and soon the plane was taxiing down the runway preparing for takeoff.
It was in the loud noise and rattling of the plane actually leaving the ground that she felt his forearm pressing against the side of her breast, More than a graze, a firm pressure. She froze in disbelief and glared at him. His arm slowly dragged back, leaving the back of his hand in full contact with the outside of her breast through the midweight cotton knit hoodie. She remained frozen, damn those instincts, and there was a moment of intense and uncomfortable eye contact before his eyes dropped back down to stare at her breasts. Just when she thought she must be asleep having a bad dream, he pressed inward, pushing the weight of the fullness of her right size F cup breast towards the left one, emphasizing the line of her cleavage. She finally got her brain unstuck and knocked his hand away, saying, "Hey!" He withdrew his hand and his attention back into his book. She looked around but no one looked back, all were engrossed in the noise and their personal phobias about liftoff. Once we reach cruising altitude, I can move seats, she thought, and crammed herself into the far side of her seat with her arm wrapped around, protecting her torso. What a creeper. Honestly, she was fairly accustomed to it. She had an athletic build but a generous 34F bust that drew attention, even in a baggy hoodie.
As they approached cruising altitude, she mentally started preparing to move. Should she move her case in the overhead bin, was that worth the trouble? Should she engage a flight attendant? She was then startled to feel his hand settle firmly on the middle of her right thigh, squeezing her firm quadriceps. She hissed at him, "What are you doing, get off of me!" and with that, even though the seatbelt sign was still on, she unbuckled and jumped into the aisle, leaving all her belongings behind as she stomped up the aisle in her socks to the area near the forward galley where the attendants were buckled into their jumpseats. "I need to be moved to a different seat, that man James sitting in 17B next to me was trying to grope me!"
"Ma'am, I am very sorry to hear that, but we are not yet at cruising altitude, can you please for 5 minutes, strap in here next to me and we will address the situation when it's safe." The flight attendant was a tall, slim man who unbuckled and stood to greet her, drawing a privacy curtain to shield them from the main cabin. In fact, there were two attendants here in this forward station (It was a big flight that had 4 attendants altogether, two aft and two fore) and they were both men here in this forward station. The one who had spoken introduced himself as Adam and showed her how to fold down the jumpseat and use their three point buckle, different than the passengers used, before buckling himself back in. He was meticulously polite, even a bit formal. He wasn't dismissive, but very safety minded. Rachel got the sense that he had handled similar misbehavior many times and he was not flustered. She felt an instinctive certainty that he would take good care of her. The other attendant watched silently, a sympathetic look on his face. They were both crisply dressed in their fitted uniforms, lean and athletic without being bulky. Rachel found herself in an awkward silence. The only thing they knew about her was that she had been groped - should she talk more about that? That felt embarrassing. Should she make small talk? That felt inane.
Three minutes crawled by, silently. Adam and the other man didn't seem uncomfortable. She felt in a dreamlike unreal state as her pounding heart slowed. Finally, the pilot came on overhead with the usual mundane announcements about cruising altitude, weather, expected duration of travel. Without waiting for the end of the announcement, Adam and the other attendant unbuckled and stood. Rachel fumbled with her seatbelt catch but couldn't seem to make it work. Adam stooped to help but as he guided her hand back out of the way, instead of releasing the buckle he smoothly fastened her wrist to the back of the seat, where a velcro strap already waited. The other attendant (whom she would later learn was named Ben) had approached and similarly easily caught and tied her other wrist to the seat near her hip. Without speaking, in a well coordinated fashion demonstrating long practice, they each knelt and rapidly restrained her ankles to the wall under the jumpseat, causing her knees to fall apart. Without pause, Adam produced a gag from under the seat and as she gasped in surprise he wedged it between her lips and buckled it firmly behind her head, under the messy bun of her long dark hair. The whole process took under a minute. She was flabbergasted, and pinned at both wrists, ankles, the hips and the left shoulder where the shoulder strap crossed her chest tightly. "MMMPH!" her brain finally caught up and she began to thrash and pull against the bonds, but it was a minute too late. Her many irate squeals were muffled. The bonds were solid.
Adam looked at Ben. "There's so few seats filled, I believe that Luke and Joe can handle the cabin for the first part of the flight. Let's get started here. Can you please invite Mr James in 17B to join us? It's such a nice quirk in the usual story, I would like to explore it."
Ben nodded once and exited through the curtain back to the main cabin. Rachel stared wide eyed at Adam and tried to protest through the gag. He paid no attention, but gently stroked her face from temple to jaw with the back of his hand. "Darling" he said in an even tone, "on these overnight flights, when the right crew is assigned, we always pick a pretty woman for the entertainment. We have the kinks all worked out and no one is going to bother us, so try to play along and we'll do our best to see that you enjoy yourself as well. Some women volunteer for repeat performances."
Oh Jiminy cricket I am in deep trouble Rachel thought. The restraints were tight and solid. Then Ben returned with the rumpled man from 17B, and she narrowed her eyes with rage. James was briefly alarmed at seeing her, then mostly looked surprised, but he kept his mouth shut. He had gotten a few whispered sentences from Ben to get up to speed. Adam explained, "This young woman has made an accusation against you, which we wish to explore further. This will be a participatory exploration. Everything in this compartment is confidential. She claims that you touched her breast. Please demonstrate what occurred."
