In Flight Entertainment 4

The private jet was nice to take, but first-class worked well, too. Sometimes it was just nice to get out of the facility for a while and be around people not, in one way or another involved with the work. If she wanted to, she could go for forever without leaving the place. Indeed, she had an apartment there that was as lavish as anything on Park Avenue, but she made a point to get some sun, be social, and shop for odds and ends that she might like.

She gestured to the flight attendant. "Excuse me."

The petite, middle-aged woman leaned forward, her helpful smile still genuine, probably because it was still early in the day. "How can I help you?"

With her most disarming smile she wondered, "Have you seen that young lady in the fourth row?"

For her part, the attendant tried and mostly succeeded in keeping the look of amusement from her face. "The one crushed in the middle between the two larger gentlemen who looks like she wants to be anywhere but there? She's familiar."

"Would you ask her if she'd like to come up and sit with me? I mean, it's a long flight, she seems sweet and ordinarily I like my extra seat, but, in this case, I think I wouldn't mind sharing."

She glanced back at the main cabin as the amusement returned to her features. "I'll ask."

No more than two minutes went by before the girl with naturally curly dirty-blonde hair stood before her in the aisle, carry-on in hand and laptop bag slung over her shoulder. Her dark eyes carried an expression of uncertainty. "The flight attendant said you said I could sit up here with you?"

The older woman with the shock of white hair amidst the brown as it pulled back into a pony tail patted the empty seat to her right. "It's yours if you want it."

The young woman eyed her suspiciously. "This isn't some April Fool's thing, is it? I mean, you're not just going to kick me out after I sit down?"

"I hate April Fool's jokes at the expense of other people," she said with sincerity. "It's nothing like that, I promise."

The suspicion didn't subside, though she lowered her voice. "Are you gay?" She quickly added to the question so as not to offend, "It's totally cool if you are, and I don't care. I mean, it's just not my thing, you know?"

The older woman enjoyed watching the bit of squirm. "I'm firmly bi, and, while you are cute as a button, especially with those full, blushing cheeks, you're fine. It's not that either. I just saw you there when I came through, thought you looked totally miserable, and thought I might rescue you before you slit your wrists with your keys."

She thought about it for a few seconds before her smile lit up the room and a sigh of relief all but bellowed from her. "Oh, thank God." She kept talking as she placed her case in the overhead. "Thank you. Seriously. I thought those two guys were going to crush me to death. Why do you buy both seats?"

The woman watched the young body move as the case went in. She was a nice mid-western girl with full hips and breasts to match with some to spare. She did enjoy being bi. "Because I generally don't like strangers around me for hours on end," she said, casually admitting the truth. "I have my moments as a garden variety misanthrope, but I saw you there and I'm not without mercy."

She closed the bin, smile still firmly on her face as she moved to put her bag under the seat before realizing there was enough space to set it to her left and still have glorious amounts of leg room.

"They go flat if you want to sleep."

She let out a squeak and tapped her feet excitedly on the floor in a quick rat-a-tat-tat. "Thank you so much." She extended her hand. "Hannah Penderson."

"Dr. Rebecca Samuels," the elder woman said, appreciating the firm grip. "Lovely to meet you."

"A doctor doctor or a something else doctor?"

"Actual doctor, she assured Hannah, rolling her eyes. "I'm not some prissy English Lit professor."

She giggled. "You know mine?'

"All English Lit professors are prissy, dear. They weren't smart enough to do what they really wanted so they get their hackles up when they don't see people lining up to kiss their doctorate."

"Yup. You know mine."

Rebecca thought about it for a moment. "Minnesota?"

Hannah winced just a little. "How could you tell?"

Samuels touched her shoulder. "The accent's cute. Don't worry about it."

"Just don't ask me to recite lines from that movie."

"I wouldn't dream of it. Heading back to school?"

"Yeah. Was an awesome break, but, back to the grind."

Samuels sighed. "I can sympathize."

Hannah was curious. "What is it you're into?"

"Any number of aspects of neuroscience. Fascinating, really, but it does, as you say, grind at times."

Hannah had trouble even contemplating the intricacies of it. "God, I bet it does."

They chit-chatted a bit more before Hannah gave her a shy look, "I totally don't want to come off as rude or something because you gave me the seat and everything and if you want someone to talk to on the way home that's totally cool but..."

"You'd rather listen to music or whatever than entertain me? That's all right." She looked a little too sad for it to be genuine.

She'd worried that she'd offended again. "It's not that, really. You're cool to talk to. I..."

Rebecca gave her a playful nudge. "I'm kidding. I didn't bring you up here to entertain me," she said, reaching for her own bag to pull out her laptop; a black, gold, and silver affair. "I have my own work I can be doing."

Hannah eyed it with some envy."Ooooh, sweet custom job."

Samuels looked upon it fondly. "Not my doing entirely, but I'm very proud of it."

"Neuroscience must pay great."

"It can."

"Maybe I should change my major." she quipped, pulling out her wireless in-ear headphones and unlocking her phone with a series of swipes.

"No need for that." Samuels assured her smoothly as her laptop booted. "I've found that if you don't already know what you're meant for, what you're meant for kind of finds you."

The conversation died when Hannah found her playlist and relaxed into her plush seat. Samuels took a few moments to look over some of her emails. Most of it was mundane business related material, though a few of the technical and medical issues raised by colleagues warranted follow-up or otherwise piqued her curiosity.

She scrolled through the list and clicked on B.McLemore's 'Getaway.' Some people thought her heartless, but she smiled warmly at the pictures of her newest financial manager and her much younger lady love smiling on the beach and having fun in what looked like some quaint little dive bar. Brenda still didn't love the business, but her work in securing the financial aspects from prying eyes had been better than exemplary. And, truth be told, they had found their way to a friendship as kindred spirits in many ways. It was something she hadn't looked for but appreciated greatly nevertheless. And that the two lovers were genuinely happy made her so as well.

A quick glance to her right showed her that Hannah was enjoying her music and the leg room, eyes closed, feet up as she sat slightly reclined. Samuels' finger drifted to the rippling wave icon in the far corner of her desktop where she accessed the available networks and connections. She could click on any one and get more information about the unit in question, from device type, to data transmission type, to data transfer rate. She scrolled through until she found 'Hpen, Secured.' Another click showed her the connection and other data in addition to giving her the option to 'Connect' or 'Bypass.'

She chose 'Bypass' and waited. It really was a shame in a way. There were so many breakthroughs at her disposal that if she patented all of it she and a select few others could be insanely rich just from royalties. But she liked her work as it was, and to patent any of the discoveries showed the world what was possible, and there was no point in that. Too much of humanity wasn't fit to handle the technology it already had.

Seconds ticked by and the two options disappeared to be replaced by 'Open.' She accessed secured files on her own desktop, selected 'Aural Joy, ' and dragged it over to Hannah's connection. The subliminals would work do their work, over time, even replacing the audible music she heard for stronger versions of itself. Samuels watched inconspicuously as minutes passed and Hannah's eyes grew heavy before finally falling closed.

Not long after that, the flight attendant checked back, giving the sleeping young girl a sympathetic look. "Poor thing."

Samuels mirrored the tone looking at the little lamb. "Coach is stressful. Heading back to school, I hear, too. Maybe you should pass us over for a while and let's let her recharge the batteries."

It wasn't an unusual request. Indeed, most passengers, if they weren't actively demanding something were happy to be left completely alone. She nodded."I'll make sure the 'do not disturb' is out. Just flag someone down if you two need anything."

"We surely will," Samuels promised with her most disarming smile and sweet tone. She snapped her fingers "If you could bring a blanket or two, that would be great."

"Sure."

Once settled in, it was going to take a bit of time, so she opened her latest spy novel obsession, Agent Brock Stone and the Death Beam of Doom. Sometimes she liked the dark, modern-world, intricately-plotted pieces, but this was decidedly not that. It was pulpy, cheesy, dripping with misogyny, action-packed and funny, though sometimes unintentionally. It was the junk food of the genre and Rebecca was enjoying the hell out of it.

She decided to take a break after Brock slept his way into the facility to check on Hannah. She examined her small monitoring pop-up. The subliminals had been on full for a while, longer than was needed really, but there was no reason to take chances. Samuels didn't need to give her a physical to know how the young lady was. Her head lolled to the side, facing the doctor, mouth slightly agape. She was breathing as deeply as she could and holding it before finally exhaling, seeming to have melted into her chair. Her nipples teased their way through her bra and the green tank over it. Samuels didn't have to look to know that the girl's panties were likely soaked to the waistband.

She opened a drop-down under the wave-form of the aural file and typed [Set up your laptop.] before hitting the 'repeat' icon.

She followed Brock's adventure for a few more pages before Hannah's eyes opened, though it can't be said that she was entirely there. Her eyes were glazed and she just had this relaxed, dreamy expression, as though she were floating from one cloud to another. Hannah brought her seat upright, found her laptop case and smoothly removed the contents. The young woman offered no resistance as the seat reclined as it had been before as Samuels placed the blanket over her. Indeed, Hannah simply waited placidly until nothing more interfered with the instructions given her.

Once she placed her laptop on the folding tray, with nothing else to do, she drifted with the music. It was so beautiful. All you had to do was listen. It made thinking very hard, but Hannah couldn't think of a reason to think very hard just then anyway. The music was perfect and thinking was hard, so she didn't notice or care that Samuels had connected their devices with a black, credit card-sized device, the blue light on it flashing wildly as the screen of Hannah's laptop went black.

The light on the device found a lighting and dimming pattern not unlike breathing and Hannah's laptop came back to life. The desktop interface was gone replaced by a point of blue light that created intricate patterns on, both as it drew and as the light trailed and faded behind it. On the left was a playlist with titles and run times so, to anyone glancing that way it would all just look like the graphics some music players played and to the right was a chat box.

Samuels added another small pop-up to her mix, this one using the camera on Hannah's to monitor her ocular responses. She could tell by the numeric stream that her subject was in a good place, so she opened her chat box and typed. [Are you there, Hannah? Answer back this way.]

The light on the screen had drawn Hannah's attention as it looped and drifted, creating shape after shape, layering them on top of one another before the screen occasionally went black and the process started again. It only added to the foggy happy and her fingers found her keyboard. {Yes. I'm here.} Even the typed characters had patterns of light within them that she could see if she concentrated. She liked concentrating on them because it made more happy all over.

[I'm glad, Hannah. I like chatting with you. Would you like to chat more with me? How much?]

{Yes.} The thought made her ache between her thighs. {More. A lot more.}

[We have hours to chat, Hannah. We have lots of time.]

She whimpered.

[But you have to be quiet, Hannah. If people hear you make dirty sounds, they'll interrupt us and then we can't chat.]

Shame rushed through her so much so that her cheeks burned. {Sorry.}

Her fingers glided over the keys. [Don't worry, Hannah. Just be calm and quiet for me. Do you like your music? Do you like the pretty light I made for you? How much?]

Hannah's eyes glittered and Samuels liked the numbers she was getting. She could work her magic on anyone but young adults like her were prime. Frontal lobes not fully developed so they were still malleable and hormones ruling them more often as not. They, almost to a soul, yearned for the fucking.

{I like them so much.}

[I knew you would. Are the patterns and the pretty music telling you things?]

She sighed, feeling her juices literally drip down to the seat. {They don't stop telling me things.}

[Do you want to make them more powerful? Do you want to give them more power over you?]

{How? Tell me how.}

Samuels smiled at how four words on a screen could hold so much pleading, so she decided to tease herself and up Hannah's agitation just a bit. She knew if you kept the focus of the frustration that a disarmed brain endured while trying to think on the optics and auditory itself, it usually helped them both root more firmly. Make them want what they want. [Order me to tell you. Be nasty. Be dirty. Tell me why I should tell you.]

Her long fingers were a flurry on the keyboard, her face knotted in anger, frustration and heat. {Tell me, you fucking cunt. Tell me how. Tell me how because I need to know because I've never been so goddamn gooey wet in my entire fucking life and if you can make it better it has to get better. Tell me.}

[If I said I'd tell you if you licked my pussy in the lavatory, would you do it?]

There was a pause as she weighed what it was worth to her, the weakness teasing her. {Yes. Tell me how and...show me how and I'll do it}

[I thought you were straight though?]

The patterns played in her eyes as she worked through the ache to think and justify what she needed. {Licking a pussy doesn't mean you're gay.}

She grinned thoughtfully, Doesn't exactly mean you're straight as an arrow either. [I suppose not. You've been a good sport, so I'll tell you and we can stay right here. To make them more powerful and feel even better, type out what you hear them say in your head. Seeing the words will make them more powerful. But if they get to be more powerful, that means you get weaker. They become powerful and your mind will turn mushier than your little cunt is right now. But you need that, don't you?]

The light pattern changed and the music changed tune, but she didn't even notice the latter. Samuels waited. She'd seen that moment so often that she almost didn't need the numeric scroll from the optical scan to tell her what the decision would be.

She began to type the words in her head. {Don't think. You don't want to think. Thinking is hard. Thinking ruins everything. Thinking ruins it for a hot set of holes.} She smiled a slightly dumb smile and felt all the frustration of just a moment ago vanish. It was hot to give them power. It was hot to give them her power.

{You are an aroused set of holes. That's all you are. You are a set of holes. The rest of your body exists to slave for your holes. Your legs carry your holes to where they can be fucked. Your hands, and your big tits, and the words out of your mouth exist to turn others on so they will fuck your holes. Your mind exists to be filled with the right things so you can get your holes filled with the right things.}

{Your mind only exists to be filled by others. It is empty without the wants of others. Your mind needs to be filled by others. You need to obey others. It feels good to obey. Obedience flows through your body making you tingle, and making you warm, and making you weak; a weak, obedient, hot set of holes. That's what you are. Your old life doesn't matter. It made you be willful and independent when you are a weak, obedient set of holes.}

The doctor was right. Typing them out...seeing them... made them so powerful. Seeing them was like using her eyes to burn them into her mind and it was bliss.

[Play with your cunt.]

It was the first time in what seemed like forever that she even glanced away from the screen for an instant to see the others in the cabin. {Here?}

[Yes. Here. You're a shame slut. I can see it. Filthy makes you wet. Dirty gets you off. The filthier it is and the more ashamed of your dirty acts you feel after, deep, deep down, the more complete and satisfied you are, even though you can't admit it and you hate yourself for it. They might see. They might see you with your hand in your cunt, filling one of your holes because it needs to be filled and is meant to be filled. Even if no one sees, you'll know. You'll know you are playing with your pussy, filling your mind with dirty thoughts and dirty truths in front of me and all these people even as you stuff your snatch with your own fingers.]

Typing her words gave them power over Hannah, too, and she knew the soft mind would embrace them.

{Snatch?}

Samuels saw the small, full-body quiver. [Yes. Isn't that such a filthy, trashy word for it? Isn't it degrading? Doesn't that make it better?]

{God...I wish it didn't.}

[But it does. Sit next to an almost complete stranger in a plane full of people and fuck your snatch while you read your words and mine and make them stronger and the rest of you gets weaker.]

Her hand moved tentatively at first, but her fingers slipped under the blanket and then under her skirt to find panties so soaked they were sticking to her flesh. The burn of embarrassment drove them between the waistband and her body to her bare mound to begin swirling around that button of flesh so rapidly that the blanket undulated gently as she played.

She'd never been so turned on. No lover, no toy, ever came close. Mere seconds brought her to the edge, but she had to obey, she had to be quiet. She clamped her mouth shut, jaw muscles tense and her first orgasm made her eyelids flutter like a hummingbird's wings.

It was so strong it almost felt like life drained from her as she came back to the now, brown eyes scanning, seeing if anyone noticed, praying they didn't, and somehow knowing she'd have cum even harder if they had. Hannah wallowed in the shame for long moments before the truths beckoned and her slave snatch demanded stuffing once again.

Rebecca went back to her book.

By the time everything had to be put away for landing, Brock Stone was pulling his woman of the moment to the jungle floor as the observatory that once held the death beam of doom shattered and burned. Hannah hadn't even noticed Samuels put her things away for her, her eyes ahead, mouthing her words to herself. She quivered at the forceful words the doctor hissed into her ear. "You are so fucking disgusting, Hannah. Get your fingers out of your snatch for half a fucking hour, please. And when we land, you are to follow me, you shameful cunt."