Staced Shelley's Airport Search

I got to the airport early to catch my plane from New York to Houston. With all the new security stuff you have to go through, I thought, it can take forever.

Let me tell you about myself. I'm a thirty-year old redhead with green eyes and a very voluptuous body. I have a master's degree and a good job and I'm no bimbo, but I guess I look like one. Like my alter ego Jessica Rabbit said--I'm just drawn this way! I'm not tall—only 5'5"—but my legs are nice, and I have a slim waist, curvy, plush hips, and tiny little hands and feet. I like people to look at me and to notice I'm pretty all over--but mostly everyone just stares at my breasts. They're huge. They've been stacked all my life—since I was about 12. Now, my breasts are so big that they stick out of everything I wear, and people think they must be fake. They're not, though. It's all me. I outgrew my 38DD bras years ago and started having to get everything custom-made. (For all you guys out there—when people talk about EE cups and GG cups, it kind of doesn't mean anything, because after DD, it's either made to order or these humungous, ugly restraining devices that fat women wear.) That said, I'm several cup sizes bigger than DD. I get it from my mother—a classic big-breasted southern beauty from Texas. That's where I was going the other day—down to Texas to visit.

That's when it all started. I was wearing a really tight white top that stretched over my chest, and a tight satiny skirt with a slit up the side. I was wearing heels, like always, and had my nails painted and the whole nine yards. I was looking pretty cute if I do say so myself.

So I get to the metal detector and put my little carry-on bag on the machine. I go through and of course it goes off. This always happens to me. When you're as big up top as I am, you have to wear bras with support—which means a metal wire. The guard motioned me over to secondary where there was another guard to check me with the wand.

This guard looked at me carefully. She was Hispanic—Puerto Rican maybe, or Dominican. She was a little taller than me, with black curly hair falling over her shoulders. She was pretty, with full lips painted dark red, and a little mole like Cindy Crawford. But she also looked pretty tough. Hard, you might say. She was wearing a uniform, and it fit her differently than the other guards. It was tight up top and showed off her high breasts and muscular arms. The name on the uniform read Elena. "This girl must really work out", I thought. She had light-brown skin, and her muscles were really toned. Her uniform pants fit really tight, showing off her long legs and tight ass. Her breasts weren't big, but her backside was—J. Lo style all the way!

I tried to smile at her. "I always set that thing off with my bra", I said, looking for some sister-style sympathy.

She just stared at me. "Raise your arms, please." She moved the wand over me, staring at me up and down. My nipples immediately got hard. Besides being huge, my breasts are incredibly sensitive, and they get aroused at the slightest thing.

She brushed the wand over me, more than once. Sure enough, it beeped around my underwire bra. "I'm sorry," she said, "but now we have to check and make sure you don't have something in there." With that, she felt me up—the bra first, and then she moved her fingers up to my tits, looking straight into my eyes as she did. I gasped with shock, and felt my pussy juice up instantly at her touch. She wasn't too obvious—there were lots of people around, after all, but she definitely got a good long feel in.

Then she took the wand and ran it over me again, top to bottom. She turned me around and made me spread my legs as she scanned it over my ass. It beeped again.

"What? Oh shit!" I thought. I forgot. I've got Ben-Wa balls in my pussy. They're these asian metal balls—two of them, that I have to keep in my pussy pretty much all the time. The kind I have are linked together with a string, and they move around and vibrate a lot in my pussy—keeping me wet and aroused pretty much all the time.

I have to do it because my man tells me to. Earl is sexually very dominant, and controls me to an extent that I never thought possible. I'm a feminist, in most things. I believe that women are as smart and capable as men, and I believe we should be treated equally at work and paid the same and have the same advantages men have. Except that in my personal, sexual life, I'm attracted to strong, powerful, virile men who put me in my place. Earl has me on my knees. He's got a huge cock and he knows how to use it to control me. He makes me wear slutty clothes all the time and display myself for him in public. And when he wants me, he just takes me—no warning, no foreplay, just him. That's why I use the balls. They keep me wet all the time so that when he wants me, I'm ready and it doesn't hurt as much. Plus that it feels great—I'm always on the edge of coming, and sometimes I do come without anyone noticing. Pretty sick, huh? Well, that's me. That's my life. You do what you want with yours.

Anyway, here I am at the airport, with this hot Puerto Rican bitch feeling my tits and being mean to me, and the wand is beeping when she puts it over my pussy. I turned bright red and started sweating, I was so nervous. She straightened up and looked at me. "What the fuck is that?"

"Please," I said. "I can explain. I'm so embarrassed. Please believe me—I totally forgot." I leaned closer to her and whispered "I have these metal balls—inside me."

"Inside where?" she said, really loud. "Shhh!" I begged her. "Inside my, you know, inside my pussy." She stared at me, and then laughed in my face. What a bitch. "Well," she said, still talking in her normal loud New York voice, "If you've got some metal stuck up in your pussy, I'm gonna have to check it out. All I know, you could have a bomb up in there. C'mon, hot stuff, you're coming with me."

She strutted over to the first table and told her co-worker, a black woman named Regina, that she was taking me to secondary to do a full search. Instead of boring old comfortable shoes, this Puerto Rican minx was wearing a pair of black leather boots—high heels, pointed toes, and fine leather that went high up over her strong calves. I felt weak and a little sick. She spoke to Regina at the x-ray table, and then they both looked into my bag. She looked back at me with a devilish grin, and dumped my carry-on bag onto the table. Out fell my keys, makeup, wallet, phone, and this big heavy flesh-colored vibrator. My vibrator. She grabbed it in one hand, like a club, stuffed the rest of my stuff back in, and stalked back to me. She clenched my arm, hard, in her strong fingers, and started pushing me down this hallway.

"All right Big Tits," she said. "What the fuck is this? You really think I'm going to let you get on the plane with this shit? You could kill someone with this thing."

I felt like crying. Wouldn't you? You're standing in front of all these people who are mad because you're holding up the line. You've got Ben Wa balls in your wet pussy, everyone is staring at your big tits like you're a slut, like a piece of meat, and you're being treated like a criminal. Worst of all, I was afraid she was right. You really could hurt someone with a dildo as big as the one I've got. I had it custom-made to copy Earl's big, thick dick. They made it pretty much exact, as far as size and shape. Over ten inches long, bigger around than a can of Coors, slightly curved, and colored pink, just like his skin. And it vibrates, when you turn it on.

This chick was walking too fast for me, pushing me in front of her. My tits jiggling all around, me stumbling on my heels, my pussy getting stimulated by the vibration of the balls. Next thing I know, I'm in this little concrete room—not much bigger than a storage closet—with nothing but a few chairs, some junk in boxes, and a crude sign with the name of the security company on it. It smelled of cigarette smoke and stale pizza.

Elena sat down in the chair, and stared at me top to bottom. "Just stand there for a minute," she said. "Stand there and let me look at you." She held my fake cock lightly in her hands, tapping it against her chin, thinking. I stood in front of her, my legs wide apart.

Why did I stand with my legs apart? Habit, that's why. My man always did this to me. He'd sit there and check me out, and make me do things for him. If I ever sat or stood in front of him with my legs together, he'd be on my ass like you wouldn't believe. I mean that literally. He'd have me bent over with my ass in the air, and his big hand cracking my butt cheeks like I was a drum. How I screamed!

"All right Titsy," Elena said. "You seem like a nice girl. Why don't you show me this metal stuff you've got in your pussy. Maybe that will help me start to believe I shouldn't call to the FBI." She saw my surprise, and continued, "What, you don't know the rules? Trying to bring this thing on an airplane is a federal crime now. FBI automatically gets called on something like this. But maybe we'll just keep it between us girls, huh?"

I didn't know what to say. I just sort of nodded. The room was stuffy and made me feel claustrophobic. I felt like crying. "Please, don't keep me in this little room," I said. "I feel trapped in here."

"Come closer," she ordered. I came.

She sat with her legs apart on the edge of her chair, looking up at me. Her lips were so full, so sexy. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted her to be nice to me. I stared into her eyes, hoping she would let me kiss her.

"Smack!" she slapped me across the face, hard. Tears immediately came to my eyes and I could feel my face turning red.

"Bitch, don't look me in the face," she said. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Remember where you are, slut. You think this is some titty-bar or something? Think you can just push those big fat tits in my face and I'll forget about doing my job? Don't you ever look at me unless I tell you to. Keep your eyes down, bitch."

My face burning, I looked down at the toes of her fine leather boots.

"First thing you do, Titsy, let's have whatever it is you've got shoved up that hot pussy of yours, huh? In fact, how 'bout you drop that skirt and peel out of that top and let's see what you've been trying to show off all day."

I did. I dropped my skirt and stepped out of it. I pulled my skimpy top off and kept my hands in back of my head, elbows out, displaying my body for her in bra and panties. I was scared to look at her again. She stood up and walked around me. My nipples were hard, standing out like bullets. She stood behind me and breathed into my ear, making goosebumps stand up all over me. From behind she put her hand between my legs and felt my wetness. She had my big cock-vibrator in her other hand, and it brushed against my shoulder blades.

I felt her turn it on, heard the low hum of it vibrating. She came around me and played it around my nipples. Then, suddenly, she grabbed the thin triangle of my g-string and tore it off me with one rip. I cried out, shocked again. She slapped me again, hard. Her strong fingers pinched my nipple through my lacy bra. "Bitch, quit stalling and squat!" she said. "I told you to let me see what you've got shoved in your sloppy cunt, didn't I?" I squatted down in front of her, eyes down again towards her boots, and popped out my Ben-Wa balls. They were slick with my pussy juices and hot from being in my cunt.

"Put them on the table," she said. "Stand up. Put your hands behind your head."

She popped my bra off and let my big boobs swing out. There was a mirror on the wall behind her and I could see myself, red-faced, huge-titted, standing in my high heels, sticking my ass and my chest out like a dumb cow.

I screamed again as she thrust her fingers inside my pussy. I was so wet, but it still hurt me a little at how rough she was. She felt all the way around inside me, and then started to stimulate me with her fingers. She found my g-spot and pressed it, rubbing my clit at the same time. I started to moan, and suddenly she stopped and pushed her fingers into my mouth, forcing me to taste my own juices.

"Get your ass over here!" she said angrily, pushing me to the edge of the table. On it, besides my Ben-Wa balls, were laid out the contents of my carry-on bag. Along with my keys, wallet, phone, and makeup, were a collection of photographs. Photos of me, servicing my man. God, could it get any worse?

"Don't you know that porno is illegal in Texas?" she said. "And it's also illegal to distribute this stuff without a license. And I know you don't have a license."

I thought she was lying, but I was too embarrassed to argue.

"Look at you, slut. Swallowing all that meat like it was your last meal on earth. Rubbing those big fat tits over anything that moves. How'd you ever become such a slut, anyway?"

I didn't know what to say. Earl made me carry the pictures around, because he knew they turned me on. He'd call me up and have me look at them while I fingered myself. He knew that it made me more horny, and that's how he controlled me—kept me less able to think for myself when all I could think of was his cock. The pictures showed me on my knees, licking the head of his huge prick. They showed me with both of my little hands on his shaft, pumping him as best I could even though my fingers didn't reach all the way around. They showed me deep-throating him, with my neck swollen out like a snake's. Elena stared at them carefully—the ones of me tit-fucking him. He was so big that even my huge tits didn't contain him completely, and the head of his tool would push into my mouth on the upstroke. There were more—lots more. Me on my hands and knees, taking it from behind, my tits swinging wildly. Me on top of him, my face contorted in pain as he impaled me on his big pole. Him coming on my face, sperm spilling onto my neck and chest. And finally, me with another woman, her legs wrapped around my neck, my face hidden in the valley of her cunt.

"What kind of a cum-slut are you, anyway?" she said, falling on my breasts with her lips, teeth, and fingers. She licked me and sucked me and bit my sensitive tit-flesh with her teeth. Her strong brown fingers mauled me and hefted my breasts like she was weighing meat or melons in the supermarket. I cried out and moaned and begged her to stop, but she didn't stop. I tried to push her off but she was much too strong. She slapped me again, slapped my face, my tits, and my bottom.

She pushed me down, my legs collapsing under me, and pushed her strong leg up against my naked body. Elena lifted her boot so that the toe of it pressed against my pussy, my clitoris. I hugged her leg, and started humping her foot with my cunt. I felt so nasty, so helpless and degraded. I was crying and my pussy was leaking down my thighs. She smiled cruelly, and rotated her foot into my cunt. God, it felt so good. I looked up at her to see if I was pleasing her, forgetting, and then I remembered and felt so scared that she'd slap me again. But she didn't—she looked down at me and smiled, petted my cheek, and let me continue grinding my pussy against her boot. If you're not a submissive you won't understand—but I can tell you that I felt so happy and in love with her—simply for not hitting me—that I would have done anything for her. That's how sick this thing can be.

And with my cunt on fire, her boots felt heavenly. I wanted to come so bad I would have fucked a telephone pole. She pushed her toe up against me and smirked as I moaned and jerked my hips around. She still had the vibrator-cock in her hand, and she held it right in front of her crotch as if it was her own dick. She turned it on low and grabbed me by the back of the head, forcing it between my lips. I could suck it good, of course. It was mine, and I'd been taking it for years. But it was still so big--every time I had to swallow it I couldn't believe it. Elena teased me with it. She pushed it in deep and then pulled it out so that when I lunged forward with my lips I missed. She slapped my face with it and then let it dangle around my mouth and face, smearing me with my own saliva. Then she pushed it in deep, watching me open my throat up wide and take almost all of the big vibrating cock.

Just then the door opened and Regina, the black woman guard, walked in. She strolled in as if the sight before her—naked, huge-titted white girl on the ground, humping the boot of her sexy dominant Puerto Rican co-worker, who was pushing a huge vibrating dildo down her cocksucking throat--was the most normal thing in the world. She walked over to the table and picked up my pictures. "I guess you're not coming back for a while, huh?" she said to Elena. "Guess not," said my sexy tormentor. Regina took a couple of my pictures and put them in her pocket. "Damn, these are pretty hot," she said. "Is this your man, this big-dicked whiteboy?" All I could do was nod, my mouth still full of fake cock. "Damn," she said. "Next time you bring him with you, hear? I'll do the strip-search on his ass." The two of them laughed and Regina strolled out. As she reached the door she called back. "I'm a tell Horace you're in here, okay?"

I didn't have time to think about what she said. I could feel my orgasm coming on, and I wanted it so bad. Suddenly, though, she pulled the vibrator out of my mouth, jerked her foot away from my cunt, and yanked me to my feet. "Alright Big Tits," she said. "That's enough for now. Let's remember who's in trouble here, huh? Let me ask you a question. What do you think you're here for anyway?"

I felt like crying when she took her foot away. I needed to come so bad I was going insane. A million answers came to mind, but I knew the right one. "To please you. To do anything you tell me to."

"Damn right," she said. "You're not as dumb as you look. Show me how well you know how to please me, little slut."

END OF PART I.