Reward for swift return [MMMF in sequence, bondage, cheat, consensual, s+m, airline uniforms, stockings+heels] (first post)

**Reward for Swift Return**

Perhaps you know Barajas, the main airport in Madrid. Today we
have James in the captain’s chair and Idris as the first
officer. Though not necessary on a short flight, the captain had
brought along a third man in the flight crew, Stephen, who was
here for the training. It was always nice to have three on deck
as it kept the conversation flowing and the passengers always
liked the sense of security.

Like all airports everything is less sophisicated behind the
scenes there are a lot of corridors of fluroescent lighting and
slow moving lifts. But sometimes its layout gives a certain
charm. For example, today, when James, Idris and Stephen were on
their way to the gate from the crew lounge, when they found they
were walking behind the perfect crisp bright blue of a KLM
stewardess. It always brightens a man’s spirits: the clicking of
the perfectly shiny heels, a little higher than most of the
women wear, and somehow just sexier in shape, and the noise of
her pullalong luggage over the tiles. The swing of her arms and
the bob to her step. Three white strips and an orange one: a
senior purser. Cut of her jacket just nipped in on the slope of
her lower back. And gloves, how many women wear gloves any more?

All men are dogs, and the perfectly rotating hips, the
tautly-wrapped rear, and the sultry swing to the motion kept the
three pairs of eyes on the lady’s arse. She was walking pretty
briskly, and they made sure they didn’t overtake. She didn’t
look around, but as she came to the lift she could see the dark
of their uniforms reflected in the steel doors of the lift. She
pressed the button.

Straightening up — and inevitably pushing out her chest
somewhat — she spoke in a clear voice without looking around.
“If you three gentlemen stared any harder you’d burn a whole
through my skirt!” Well, our flight crew were properly busted!

The indicators on the lift hadn’t moved. It was clear she was
going to stay facing the lift with her head proud.

“Well Miss,” began the captain. “I’ve told my second officer
here all about your underwear, and he’s been staring to see
whether I was right. He’s still in training, you see.”

She turned around to face them. Oh my goodness what a delicious
pout she had to her deep red lips. The matte lipstick of a
model. Perhaps she was 35, dark hair, up per regulations,
gorgeous neck. Her bust gave the sense of an overflowing
waterfall, beckoning.

“Is that so, Captain?” She looked him up and down. Salt and
pepper beard, playful smile, trim all the way down. First
officer tall, black, muscles like a rugby player. Second officer
slender, slightly shy in the eyes, and looking eager as a puppy.

She smiled back and continued: “And what did you tell him?”

“I told him a woman with your figure would be shown off so much
better in stockings rather than tights. And a purser would have
the experience of a woman old enough to know what she’s doing,
not one of these young know-nothings.”

Her eyebrows went up.

“And indeed a *senior* purser would be most likely to have a
very elegant suspender belt. And that if he looked, he’d see the
very faint bumps from the straps on your legs, and the very
faint shadow from the shape of your high-leg knickers.
Elementary, as they like to say to Watson.”

She turned back to face the lift. “And did you ‘gentlemen’ bet
money on this lady’s lingerie?” The arch in her voice at
‘gentlemen’ called them out as the dogs they were.

“I’m afraid to say the second officer stands to lose twenty-five
pounds. We call twenty-five a pony, if you’re betting. If you’re
wearing a suspender belt, that is.”

She made a snort of disgust and shook her head. “Seems boys
haven’t changed at all.” And she left the silence hanging while
the lift took its time.

After what felt like a longer time than it was, the lift arrived
and the doors clunked slowly open. She got in and turned around
and a gloved finger told them to stay where they were. But she
was smiling.

Just as the doors started to close, she made a sort of curtsy,
grabbed the hem of her skirt with both hands and wiggled it up
to flash her stocking tops, slender thighs, and — yes! —
stocking straps and suspender belt. Black and looked would you
believe like fine leather.

Stephen gasped but the captain was cooler: “Thank you Miss, that
was delightful, and will keep us talking all the way to London
where we’ll enjoy a drink to your health on Stephen’s tab.”

The doors closed and the men looked at each other. “Made my day,
that’s for certain,” said Idris. “Oh yes and mine,” said
Stephen, “I can’t believe you could tell!” He fumbled in his
wallet to cough up.

The captain accepted it. “And did you see those knickers, boys?
Perfectly transparent! I’d have those off her in a moment!”

They laughed and waited.

“Hah! The lift went down! Surely she wants to go up!” said the
Captain. “Prepare for boarding!”

In a moment the lift started coming back up, made a dinging
noise and the doors started to open. And sure enough there she
was, now blushing profusely. Not only had she gone the wrong way
in a lift, she now had to face the three men she’d just tried to
stun with her classy, flirty, showy exit. Which had failed, very
badly.

“Hello again Captain” she said, and nodded to the others, while
trying to look as calm as possible. “What did you say to your
crew?”

They got in the lift and maintained a respectful distance. The
captain to one side, the others at the back. She was closest to
the doors.

“I told them I’d have those knickers off you the next time I saw
you!”

“Did you now? Such presumption!”

She turned to look at him, a challenging but smiling look.
“Molon labe!”

British captains are still mostly educated at traditional
schools, and James had both studied history and Greek. He
laughed and put on his captain’s checklist voice and said.

“Undercarriage inspection, position one!” Suddenly attentive,
Idris and Stephen stood alongside the KLM purser and took her
elbows.

“Undercarriage inspection, wheels up!” Idris and Stephen leant
down and picked her up by the thigh just above the knee. There
she was, mid-air, horizontal, skirt riding up, laughing in
shock. They turned her around to the captain who slipped his
hands up her skirt, under her knickers at the side, and pulled
them off her, horizontally. They turned her around and put her
back down.

“Thank you Miss, I will!”

Though flustered momentarily, she regained her cool immediately,
and was adjusting her hair as the doors opened. She turned and
looked the captain in the eye and said “Oh my goodness thank you
Captain, you’ve no idea how much it excites me to be
manhandled.” And out she walked, into the crowds.

Idris said “Man, that was *bold* and she was *cool*. What on
earth did she say that made you do know we’d get away with it?”

“I’ll have to tell you about it later boys, we’ve got work to
do.” Our crew laughed, checked their watches, and hurried
towards their gate.

—

There is a great deal to do in flying an airliner. In common
with everybody in that this line of work, these three took it
absolutely seriously. There’s a lot more to being a pilot than
looking good in uniform and shades.

Soon enough they were in level flight, autopilot on, and had
time for a bite. The signalled the stewardess who brought them
their snacks. Once she was out of the cockpit, Stephen began.

“I just can’t believe you could see the suspenders Captain. How
did you know?”

The captain had a lot of experience. He knew the signs.

“And goodness she was *hot* too. I been aching since I broke up
with Stephanie. If I don’t get some soon I’m sure I’ll explode
or forget how to do it or something.”

James and Idris liked to goad him on this. Idris seemed to hook
up in every city they went too. In Madrid there was apparenty a
gym where Idris would be invited after hours to find innovative
uses of the exercise benches. And James was happily married to
Lucy. All they knew of her was she was some kind of lawyer in a
big office. They’d met her, but she was very “Captain’s Wife”.
Good looking woman, mind.

“Hand me her knickers Captain I want to see if I can smell her.”

The captain fished them out of his jacket and passed them back
over his head.

Stephen took a long breath of them and made the noise of a chef
in front of something exquisite. “I can’t believe she let you
take them off her. You’ve got to tell us what she said.”

“Molon labe”, the Captain said. “It’s what Leonidas, King of the
Spartans, said to Emperor Xerxes at the battle of Thermopylae.
Didn’t you go to school?” They looked blank looks at him. “It
means ‘Come and take them’, if you dare. I dared!”

“Ah yes” said Stephen, “wasn’t that in the film ‘300’?”

“It certainly was.”

“Hey you’ll never believe what the label is in these knickers!”

Purser’s Panties
Penalty for improper use
Swift Reward for Safe Return
email fuckmeinuniform at google

They laughed. How very prepared of her!

“Well, Stephen, better send the lady an email, ask what her rota
looks like, tell her we’re going on to Frankfurt and back
tonight to Heathrow, then back in Madrid tomorrow and can return
her property then. She’s sure to answer. We might get you a shag
after all! From your own mobile please, not your work phone.”

The convenience of the modern airliner includes wifi and email.
It’s not fast but it does work. Stephen did as he was bid, and
sure enough, after an hour or so, she wrote back.

“Very busy flight. What you took from me is leaving me exposed
and distracted. Please keep as trophy of your Captain’s
education!”

Which left their appetites truly whetted and somewhat
disappointed.

—

All airline flights are forever working against the
constrictions of the weather. In the winter it’s rain and snow
which make the most disruption. In the summer it’s high wind,
sometimes hail storms.

Today their flight was fine and they touched down right on time
at Heathrow. But they had almost an hour of baggage delay from a
couple of straggling passengers and then some weather delay from
Frankfurt. When they finally got going they were two and a half
hours late. And then there was more weather diversion, around
Brussels. When they finally landed it they’d made up a little
time, but were still two hours behind schedule, which makes
everybody tetchy, from the ground staff to the passengers.

They unloaded, had a break, did their formalities and were back
in the cockpit for the return to Heathrow. And then another
passenger got lost and their luggage had to be unloaded. It’s an
amazement to airline staff that passengers to often forget
they’re in an airport with a plane to catch.

The last straw was more weather delay from Belgium while they
were waiting for clearance for the push back, and they timed out
and were prohibited from flying for another 36 hours. Damn! The
rest of the crew were okay, but the three of them had to deplane
and be replaced. So back they went and got their instructions
for their hotel. Some other poor sods had to drive the jet home
tonight.

—

The hotel was pleasant enough, and familiar as it was the usual
hotel for British Airways crew on layover. Big and dark and a
very welcome bar. They took a table in the corner with big
armchairs and sunk into them with a weariness and a thirst. They
ordered and the barkeeper brought their drinks.

If you’re flight crew and you fret about weather delays and
stopovers, then you’re in the wrong job. You just have to take
it with good cheer. James phoned home and evidently was saying
something sexy to his wife. Idris sent a few texts to those who
were expecting him in London. Stephen took a quick look at the
Tinder girl he had hoped would swipe right on him this evening.
Pah!

Of course it didn’t take long before they started thinking about
their charming KLM encounter and wondered whether she was just a
tease, flirting for the fun of it. Or was she actually as game
as she seemed? Something to daydream over during their flights.

Swiftly Idris moved on to talking about his latest conquests,
girls from a fencing team in a bar in Madrid. “Glutes like you
wouldn’t believe, my friends! And they can stab you in a
fraction of a second.”

And then they noticed! There she was! The senior purser from
KLM, sitting on her own at a barstool.

James said “I’ll go talk with her,” and he got up.

“Well hello Senior Purser!” he said. “How lovely to see you
here!”

“Captain, I’ve been expecting you, you know. All you stranded BA
guys end up here.”

“Yes we do! Will you join us? My crew are over there.”

“I’ll be delighted. A whole flight deck to myself! So rare to
have the pleasure of a nice young second officer as well these
days. And a captain who doesn’t have to rush home to his
charming wife and charming family.”

She sat down without undoing her jacket, which had the effect of
accentuating her bust even more. The captain thought she’d had
the jacket altered a bit, just to push up the bust a little,
show off her waist a little. As she sat the cloth of her skirt
was taut over her thighs, showing the suspender clasp bumps,
unmistakable at this distance. And you know, those heels are not
regulation even if they look it at first glance: regulations
don’t permit ankle straps, and surely that heel is 10 mm higher
than permitted. Perfect black shine, pointier toes than normal.
The captain has seen a lot of stewardess uniforms over the
years, but the joy of a good one doesn’t diminish.

“What can we get for you?” Idris asked. She’d accept a rum and
coke.

“So tell us how you’re here too,” said Stephen.

“Same as you: weather, schedules messed up, and my rota doesn’t
get back in place for 48 hours. So I’m stuck here. I can’t
imagine what I’ll do for all that time.”

“I …” Stephen started, already imagining for them all.

“We certainly should introduce ourselves. I’m Anabelle.” She
took off her gloves to shake their hands.

“Stephen.” “Idris.” “And I’m James, lovely to meet you properly.”

Stephen let his intentions get away with him. “No boyfriend with
you Anabelle?”

She held up her hand. Someone had indeed put a ring on it. He
looked down.

“Stephen’s not yet as observant as he might be!” He held up his
own left hand. Attendant as ever to her grooming, she put her
gloves back on to keep her perfect attire. In the uniform of a
flag carrier, you’re and ambassador for your country as well as
your airline.

“Well we’re so glad you could join us for a drink and we can
give you your … um … lost property back.” The captain was so
diplomatic.

“I’m sure you have it right there in your flight box.” She
played with candle wax while she looked him in the eye.

“Well, actually no Anabelle, it’s upstairs in the room. I’ll go
up and fetch it for you in a minute. Or Stephen, perhaps you’d
oblige after your drink?”

“Of course Captain, it would be my pleasure.”

“I might have to search your bag you know Captain.”

“Well it’s not in there, and who knows what you might find!”

“Is that an invitation Captain?”

He didn’t answer. She let it drop.

Chatting was easy and soon they were talking about places they’d
been and the usual things people getting to know each other talk
about. Have you been doing this long? What silly things had
passengers done today?

“What made you want to fly?” asked Idris.

It was her third rum and he really had a gorgeous movement to
muscles.

“The honest truth?”

“The honest truth.”

“Well … the honest truth of it is I loved the uniforms. I
loved the hostesses’ ones, the pilots, all of it. You must have
noticed how women look at you in your uniforms? The same for us.
Obviously we get jerks whose hands go where they shouldn’t, but
I’m normally in first class and the passengers are more
respectful, if more demanding.”

“And the thing I love most?” She genuinely was loving the
attention of these three lovely men. The wise and knowledgeable
captain with his voice of command. The first officer and all his
delicious muscles. The puppy-eyes of the the second officer.
And here they were in a hotel far from home.

“The thing I love most is walking down the cabin and knowing
every single man’s eyes are on my arse. Knowing every single one
is thinking about fucking me. Bent over the armrest, kneeling on
the floor, standing in the toilet. I love knowing that. Some
women hate the attention. This one gets …” — she paused as
she wasn’t sure of the right word in English — “… moist every
time I do the safey demonstration and see the men staring at my
tits.”

Stephen’s mouth was slightly ajar. Idris had the composure to
offer her another drink, but Anabelle declined. “Perhaps
shortly.” She wanted to be tempted, but was in no hurry. Dear
husband was, after all, back in Rotterdam.

She looked him straight in the eye and put a shiny toe just
under the flap of James’s flight case, and flicked it open in
wilful naughtiness. Just to see what happens.

“Ah,” she said, “what do you have? ‘Casa el Valenciano’.
Shopping?”

“Be careful what you sniff into, Anabelle!”

“What is it? Looks like horse and dog equipment on the bag. What
did you get?”

“Just things for home.”

She ignored his warnings and pulled the shopping bag out of this
case.

“Looks like a crop! Do you ride?” She shot him a glance. It was
certainly a riding crop, short and with a triangle of leather at
the end.

“Or is it for something … else?”

He didn’t answer.

“And this, collar for a dog? I suppose you have a stable and a
pack of dogs at home.”

Stephen and Idris were watching intently. What was he going to
say?

She looked at the collar. There was a tag. She read it out.

“Lucy. Pretty big dog. What kind is she? Think it would fit me?”

James stopped her and said. “You know how it is, Anabelle, if you
put on the uniform, you take on the role. And who knows what
kind of ordeal that might become?”

She read the other side of the tag in a loud, questioning voice:
“The Captain’s Bitch. Captain, now I have to know! Lucy, what is
she? Dalmatian? Poodle? Greyhound? What?”

“She’s my wife, Anabelle.”

“I see.” She was smiling. And she put the collar on.

—

After Anabelle put on Lucy’s collar, James immediately stood and
said “Perhaps we can invite you up to the room for that drink?”

She said nothing but stood and waited for them to pick up their
bags and head for the lifts.

“With you three, a girl doesn’t know what to expect when she
gets into a lift!”

“Indeed you can’t” James said. The moment the door closed he
pushed her down onto her knees. He fixed a long lead to her
collar and pushed her down on all fours. Idris and Stephen were
smiling, but somewhat shocked to see how quickly James had put
her in her place. He really treated his wife this way? What
else did she like?

She was excited, eyes darting back and forth. What if someone
should come in? The top floor arrived and she started to get up,
but James held her down and said “Heel, Lucy, heel!” He leant
over to whisper in her ear too: “Crawl, my bitch, so my crew can
watch your hips again.” He took the crop out of his bag and held
it, just touching Anabelle’s arse.

He led her out, and Stephen and Idris followed. Frankly they
were in awe of James’s command sometimes, and if this is how it
affected women, they hope to gain his experience one day.

She felt she had to crawl the length of the corridor, excited
but anxious that they might be seen. Or worse, bump into some
KLM crew!

They did not. The captain swiped and entered, pulling her in and
turning on the lights. She was still on hands and knees.

“Idris, Stephen, do come in.”

The captain had his own room, while they had to share the
adjoining one. His had a desk, some chairs, a sofa, a bench for
luggage, a big television. The usual things. “Sit, please.”

He flipped a coin and asked Stephen to call it. “Heads!” he
said, chuckling.

“Heads it is” said the captain. He gave Anabelle a nudge with the
crop and said to her “My second officer here hasn’t had any
release for ages, since his girlfriend left him. He’s been
pining over Stephanie for weeks. You will now make him forget
her. Just suck him off like a good girl. I do hope you weren’t
just leading us on.” He gave her the lightest of swats with the
crop just to remind her. “Make him come as quickly as you can,
he’s a boy in a hurry.”

She crawled over to where Stephen was sitting on the arm of the
sofa. He looked grand in his uniform, and without hesitation she
undid his belt and flies and with her gloved hands pulled him
out and immediately into her mouth. Within a moment he’s fully
up, long and slender and slightly curved, and she has to move
her head a long way. Sucking hard and holding his balls. Idris
and the captain sat watching from the arm chairs, passing
comments to each other quietly, noting her style. Stephen was
urgent soon enough, holding her head and thrusting. She kept it
all and held her mouth open towards the captain for approval.

“Swallow” said the captain, as he handed the leash to Idris.

“Now him”.

Idris pulled the leash to position her on her back on the table
with her head over the end. The contrast was superb: with her
perfectly formal uniform, still buttoned up in her jacket and
waistcoat, still in her heels and gloves, hair still up she
looked the model of professionalism. But with Idris’s fat cock
between her red lips, she looked the perfect slut.

Stephen was sitting with the captain and admiring Idris’s
rhythm. Quickly enough he thrust harder and with some grunting
he finished. She swallowed again and was expecting, of course,
the captain to take his turn.

Instead he motioned to stay on the table. Stephen was ready
again and wanted to fuck her mouth in the same position. So he
did.

Surely she could suck the captain now? Anabelle was lying on her
back still, on the table, but with her head up.

“I’d like you to get some more drinks for us. Stephen will take
you down to the bar. But first …” He motioned to her to get
up, and she did. He kneeled in front of her and put his hand up
her skirt. Knickerless since Madrid! And daydreaming about the
passengers fucking her. And now she’d just had three loads in
her mouth. She was wet, perhaps she had been all day! She didn’t
see what James had in his hand but she felt it — something hard
inside her. And something pressing on her clit. It must be one
of those vibrators, a part for inside, a part for outside.

“You’re under my command. You’re not permitted to come. You’re
not permitted to touch yourself. You have to wait until you’re
told. Do you understand me?”

“Yes Captain”.

He handed a remote control to Stephen. “Go, stop, fast, slow.
Front, inside. Simple. Don’t go above 50 percent, okay.” Her
knees practically buckled when
he demonstrated.

“Now Anabelle I’ll have a double whiskey. Idris? Stephen?” They
wanted the same.

Stephen led Anabelle away by the leash, and watched her face as
he played with the controls. As the left James whispered
something to Stephen.

By the time they got downstairs to the bar she was panting and
her face was flushed. Stephen tucked the leash inside her jacket
and she covered her collar with the scarf. He put the vibration
down and she composed herself while she ordered. Stephen put it
back on maximum while the barman prepared the drinks. The barman
apparently saw nothing, but barmen are professionals.

Back to the room and Anabelle was moaning softly and holding
herself.

The captain took the remote and turned it off.

“Anabelle, were you about to come? Tell me the truth now.”

“No sir.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes captain.”

“My first officer needs another suck. Kneel and make him come.”

By now she was desperate and was urgent in her submission. She
worked Idris’s cock and sucked him hard, but he took longer this
time.

She opened her mouth to show James again. He smiled and she
swallowed. Wondering if that was enough, if it was time for her
pleasure yet.

“Hold her arms up. Idris? Could you help?”

They held her arms up and James undid her scarf and stuffed it
in her mouth. He undid her jacket. He undid her waistcoat. He
undid her blouse.

Finally, she thought, he’s getting me naked to fuck me.

“Well boys what do you make of this bra?” It was black leather
like the knickers, but only a quarter cup so the nipples were
visible. Hard, proud, raging nipples. James pulled from his
pocket two little metallic contraptions. She looked down but
couldn’t speak and her eyes widened as she understood: clamps.
They were the kind with two bars, and he adjusted them on her
one at a time until he could see the effect on her.

With her arms still in the air he pulled her skirt up, scrunched
above her hips to show her pussy and the straps of the suspender
belt. A perfect, delicious, dark bush. Her lips were puffed out
and the vibrator was curled around the front of her pussy. She
was a glorious sight, with the muscles of her calves and thighs
straining for balance. She was breathing hard and it was clear
she was only just able to keep control of herself. James pulled
her arms down behind her and pulled her clothes off her
shoulders. Her breasts were sticking out, aching to be touched
but she was focussed on her nipples and that nagging sharpness
of the clamps that would be pain if she allowed it to be.

“Stephen did you get that other thing?”

“Yes sir, here it is.”

It took a second for her to realise what that sound was. Kitchen
film! The held her and wound it round her again and again from
her ankles, up her legs, holding her legs tightly together.
Around her naked waist, around her nipples and breasts and and
just a gap for her to breath through. In seconds she was
helpless, bound, blindfolded, immobile. And her nipples were
shouting to her, when James turned the vibrator on full.

Her knees gave way and Idris caught her and put her on the bed.
They put headphones on her.

“Now then boys, let’s have that drink.”

—

She felt she was losing her mind. Just moments ago — or was it
an hour, or days? — they were having drinks and flirting in the
bar. Now she’s immobilsed entirely and strangers are playing in
her pussy by remote control. All she could do was breathe and
grund and moan and writhe, which is what she did. Just when she
thought she couldn’t take it any more and would come, they
turned it down. And she’d pant and grunt and calm down some.

Before squealing as they turned her up.

The headphones they put on her had just one thing: the sound of
women moaning, grunting, panting, gasping. The sound of women
being fucked. Licked. Smacked. Spanked. Fingered.

In the littlest of pauses between the women’s sounds, she
thought she heard the sound of cards being played. Were they
playing cards for the right to fuck her? Oh please please soon.

—

The vibrations were slowing and subsiding and she’d managed not
to come.

“Captain I think she’s out of battery.”

“Ah yes, time to get her out of that.” He produced a safety
cutter and with just a few slips her casing was gone. He undid
the clamps and she gave out a big gasp. He took off the
headphones and but in her mind she could just hear women being
fucked.

He told her to stand and he pulled out the vibrator. She was
still on display: her shirt was open with her nipples begging,
he skirt was up and her pussy lips were open and glistening.

And as he pulled out her gag she just had one thing to say:
“Please captain please just fuck me, please fuck me now, please
captain.”

“No you disobeyed me and now you’re going to be treated like
Lucy. Bend over the desk and put your feet apart.” He picked up
the crop. She gasped. She’d been spanked before, but just over
her husband’s knee. Never something that! My goodness, it’s
meant for a horse!

With the crop between her thighs he slapped them wider apart. In
heels and bent over her arse was pushed out and her pussy
perfectly visible from behind.

“What’s your name bitch?”

“Anabelle?” She was confused by the question.

He gave a gentle slap up between her legs with the switch. She
jumped and gave a squeal.

“What’s your name bitch?”

“Lucy?”

“That’s better. And what are you?”

“The captain’s bitch. For his pleasure. Lucy the bitch.”

James started spanking her. Gently alternating on each cheek.
Occasionally a much harder slap. Anabelle was breathing very hard
indeed, and squealing when the harder blows fell. All the while
concentrating on what she imagined Lucy to be like, what she
imagined James to want. The spanking was rhythmic but every time
she started to adjust James would pause and break rhythm. And
give her a crack with the crop or sometimes one between her
legs. Invariably she would squeal.

Idris and Stephen couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Lucy
behaved in private. They met her at all the work events that
wives normally go to. But the Captain’s lawyer wife? Cropped and
spanked and submissive? She was the usual kind of
perfectly-spoken Englishlady with perfect manners, given to
perfectly-cut grey skirts and sharply-tailored blouses to show
off her frankly gorgeous breasts and arse. They did notice she
liked ankle-strap heels and court shoes with a strap.
Occasionally lace-up heels. Once they did see her in jodhpurs
and boots. And that perfect arse. But now they were imagining
her begging to be fucked as she was spanked across a table.

Suddenly he stopped and repositioned her by the window. Although
they were triple glazed as this was an airport hotel, you could
still open them. As soon as it was open though, you could see
why they were kept closed: the runways were just there and the
planes made enough noise when they went over that the room shook.

James said: “Lucy you will take six more when the planes take
off. You will let yourself go.”

The planes at Frankfurt go more than once a minute. So in a few
moments there was the next plane. James hit her harder and she
screamed. She was panting as she knew he would wait for the next
take-off. She could hear the build-up of the engines and when it
was deafening the next stroke came and she felt her grip on her
composure give way. By the time of the last one, she was
blubbing.

“There there you’ve been a good Lucy.” He stroked her hair and
they picked her up and put her on the edge of the sofa. She took
a sip of the whiskey.

“How do you feel?”

“Please just fuck me captain that’s all I can think about.
Please please I need to come, just fuck me. However you want. I
need it, I need it.”

They put a pillow under her hips and sore cheeks and put her on
her back on the table. She could think no more when Idris got
the rope and they started tying her down with clever-looking
knots. Soft rope around her wrists, pulled tight to the end of
the table. Soft rope around her ankles and thighs holding her
knees up and her pussy right at the edge. She watched like it
was someone else, it was Lucy being bound. So there she was with
her uniform open as it had been for hours, her nipples pointing
hard at the ceiling, her legs in the air and her pussy dripping
over her arsehole. They put her scarf around her eyes again, and
a calmness descending on her: they’d fuck her when they were
ready.

They told her to lie very still or the crop would come back. She
did. They put the headphones back on. Moaning, grunting,
screaming women. She just wanted to be like them! The three men
said around the table, one on each side of her, one between her
legs. She could feel from his mass that Idris was on her right,
Stephen on her left. Must be James looking directly at her
pussy. Oh please lick me, lick me, Captain please.

Stephen was playing with her nipple and then she felt something
light fall on her stomach. A piece of paper? Heavier. A card?

Stephen stopped and she could feel — oh finally! — the tip of
a finger tracing the edges of her pussy lips. She tried to
adjust to push against it but she was tied too firmly. Oh oh oh,
she was panting now, but couldn’t make anything more than
squeaks and grunts through her gag.

She understood. She was a card table! They teased her slowly,
one at a time, while they played their hands. Oh so shameful, oh
exquisite! She had to be calm. What was the game? How many
rounds would they play?

By the time she heard shuffling she was trembling.

Idris asked “James, do you think she’s ready?”

“Not yet. Let’s keep playing.”

She thought they’d moved on to poker as she could feel coins on
her stomach.

Eventually she felt something cold and metal pushing at her
pussy lips, like an intruder which wants to get in. Pushing,
nagging, teasing. Eventually it thrust into her. It must be a
dildo, steel, cold as ice.

At last she was really shaking. Out of control. She heard them
get up, move the chairs, a door. There was stillness, apart from
her shaking, moving the table.

“Lucy if you come I’ll get the crop. Do you understand me?”

“Yes captain.”

The steel came out and he entered her as she spoke. And he
continued, with slow, sure, demanding strokes.

“You’re my toy. Not for your pleasure. No coming.”

“Yes captain. Fuck me, thank you for fucking me, fuck me.” She
was practically delirious.

She was shaking and moaning and groaning and begging and
pleading and he still said no. She was fantastic, so obedient,
so controlled, so able to hold herself.

He came inside her and she just was shaking and holding her
breath.

She was still holding her breath as he undid those clever knots
which fell away in a moment.

Finallly he told her: “Stand up.” She stood.

“How do you feel, Lucy?”

“Please let me come, please please sir please Captain.”

He loved the sound of her begging. He put the steel dildo back
in and said: “Come for me know. Make yourself come.”

She knelt with her fingers on her clit and rubbed, pumping the
steel in and our, and falling on her side.

A convulsing, huge, earth-digger grunting, screaming, orgasm.

When she had stopped shaking, he picked her up and put her on
the sofa. They took a little drink.

Finally, she stood up and buttoned up her blouse, her waistcoat,
her jacket. He hander her back her knickers, which she stepped
into. She reattached a wayward suspender, straightened out her
stockings. She smoothed down her skirt. She put her scarf back
around her neck, twirled her hair back up with a rubber band.

Almost, almost, professional.

“Thank you captain for finding my underwear for me. I do hope
you’ve found your reward adequate.” And she left.

—

Of course our crew were very pleased with themselves the next
day at breakfast, and hoped to bump into Anabelle and kept a keen
eye open for KLM blue. They did not, of course, see her and soon
they were busy with the tasks of flying passengers around major
cities.

After they touched down at Heathrow and got to up to the gate,
the captain switched off the seat belt signs, as on every flight.

And then he said: “Do you know I believe she stole Lucy’s
collar!”

—

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ixa96p/reward_for_swift_return_mmmf_in_sequence_bondage