“Cotswold Towow… Tower, this is Excelsior zero one on final to runway twooooow six.”

 

Maria hadn’t yet won at this new game. Had it been a crummy old 737 or an Airbus 310 she could have predicted the moment of touchdown to within a few seconds, but the still slightly unfamiliar feel of a Gulfstream G500 business jet kept her guessing, and without looking out of a window she could not judge exactly where in the approach they were, and hence the correct moment to go for it. The game was of course stupid, and highly dangerous, but it was also fun and exciting, and that seemed to fit just fine with everything else in her new life. The aim was to get the pilot to ejaculate as the plane touched down on the runway and thereby test his skills of concentration and coordination, and also the oral skills and timing of the hostess. If she won then the pilot would pay all their bar bills for a month, but so far, while she had always collected her throatfull, her timing had always missed the mark.

 

But it was good to finally be what she had always wanted to be. A glamorous lady of the sky, dressed in a sexy uniform and flying the world in style. Until recently the reality of the job had always failed to live up to the dream. Flying with SleazyJet and worse, Go Air had been the pits. Cabins packed full of white, flabby fat dragging its screaming brats off for their two weeks in the sun, puking over the seats and pissing on the heads floor till it ran out under the door. Hunky pilots locked away and out of sight behind unopenable doors, and uniforms that made her look like she worked in a DIY shop. She’d even been banned from wearing heels because of ‘safety concerns’. It had all been about as glamorous as being on a bus, except more cramped.

 

But now she was no longer just ‘cabin crew’ or a ‘flight attendant’. She was an air hostess. She had a sexy uniform with a short, tight skirt, four inch heels, an asymmetric jacket and even a little hat with a birdcage veil. And instead of serving cardboard ready meals to ungrateful slobs, she served Champagne and sautéed foie gras with roasted veal sweetbreads to Vladislav Baryshnikov, his wife and whoever else the mining oligarch invited onto his private jet, which only had nine seats but had a galley big enough to swallow about twenty SleazyJet passengers and a bar that would put a Soho cocktail joint to shame. And much of the time the plane flew about empty and there was no one to trouble her. They would pop across The Atlantic to pick up some friend of the owner and take him to a party in Australia before nipping over to Vladivostok to collect the owner’s dog. Sometimes they would just carry a package, and sometimes there were ‘other cargos’ too.

 

The heady cocktail of flying, glamorous locations, luxury, and wealthy excess all around her had quickly had its effect on Maria and it had not taken long for her to join with the rest of the crew to form  a close, hedonistic little trio. Matt, the pilot and Dieter the co-pilot and flight engineer were both like she was, young, free and single. They did everything together, and they did it to the max.

 

And that included sex. All kinds of sex, and lots of it. And frequently all three of them together. Maria sometimes felt a little uncomfortable about being such a slut, but her body and seemingly every part of the plane just seemed made for it. A particular favourite was starting off on the thickly carpeted floor of the cabin and trying to float up and cum on the roof as the plane flew over an arc to make zero gravity. If she was lucky she might float down again and end up lying bent over one of the luxuriously padded headrests, with her bottom pointing upwards and the co-pilot sucking on her clit. The mile high club seemed like it was just something for amateurs, and Maria had turned pro. Forty thousand feet is actually seven and a half miles and she had sampled every one of them.

 

As the Gulfstream turned off the runway and headed towards a group of hangers, Maria extracted herself from the pilot’s lap. Once again Matt had thwarted her and managed to hold on until they were safely down and slowed to below rotate speed, but she congratulated herself that other than leaving some of her lipstick behind, her make-up was still perfect and there was not a drop of mess to clean up. Her skills honed almost to perfection, it was just her timing that needed more practice. She left the men to do their arrival stuff and went through to the head to do her own. There was no one else on board and she knew there would be no one of consequence meeting them, but it was a sort of ritual to spruce herself up and make sure she looked perfect whenever she opened the cabin door. And besides, any place felt better when it was touched through the sensual thickness of some tight fitting leather gloves, and anywhere looked more glamorous when viewed through the tinted soft focus caused by the delicate lilac netting of a birdcage veil. Even a shithole like Cotswold Airport might gain a slightly rose-tinted aura.

 

Airport was a word that the owners had optimistically adopted in the hope of making the ex-RAF base sound more important than it was. But to be true to its name, the place would have needed terminals and passengers, or at least some cargo. Instead there were private planes, a parachute club and maintenance hangers. It was indeed a shithole and there was absolutely nothing of interest to anyone with a Gulfstream luxury private jet beyond the 6,561 foot asphalt runway. But that made Maria feel excited, for this was just the sort of out of the way and unassuming little place that ‘other cargos’ might be waiting for collection.

 

The plane came to a stop outside a pale green steel hanger on which the words ‘Garway Avionics’ were painted in large letters above the door. A few minutes later Maria was enjoying her first cigarette since Berlin as she wandered aimlessly on the nearby grass and played at leaving stiletto holes in it. A tanker turned up and she made the driver wait till her smoke was finished before he could fill up the plane. She might have been little more than a glorified trolley dolly, but Maria enjoyed feeling comfortably out of his league as she flirted while the fuel flowed. Once they were full and the tanker had gone, an old rusty tractor appeared and pushed the glamorous jet backwards into the hanger.

 

“Watcha got in the galley Maria?” asked Dieter as the hanger doors were closed. “Don’t suppose there’s much nosh on offer round this place.”

 

“Got some venison in blackberry sauce or there’s octopus bolognaise. After them I’m raiding the freezer. How long are we here for anyway?”

 

“Not long enough to get a taxi into Cirencester. We’re just waiting for a man in a van.”

 

“Yes I noticed on the flightplan. ‘Backup de-icer element in the port-side pitot tube failed’. So a man in a van is bringing us another one?”

 

“That’s what the paperwork says. Can’t argue with paperwork.”

 

“Yeah, right. And how many other things is the man bringing in his van?”

 

“Six, I think.”

 

“Six? Business is booming.”

 

“So it would seem.”

 

“Speak of the devil. Is this your man?”

 

“And look, he even has a van.”

 

Maria watched as a roller shutter door at the back of the hanger rattled upwards revealing a small white van waiting outside. When the shutter was high enough the van drove in and parked by the port wing of the plane. The driver turned out not to be a man at all, but a portly middle aged woman. Other than her gender she looked exactly the same as every other aircraft mechanic Maria had ever seen, dressed in a baseball cap and overalls which had never seen a drop of oil or grease. She, along with Dieter and Matt soon formed a huddle around the little sticky-out thing on the port side of the Gulfstream’s nose and some fiddling began. Maria left them to it and climbed inside the cabin to get herself ready to do some work. She stripped off her leather gloves and unpinned her little hat from her hair. She moved to unzip her jacket but paused when she caught her reflection in the mirror. Unlike most jackets that have a zip or buttons up the centre, this one had a zip set well off to her left side and set at sloping angle. It left the front of the jacket an unbroken panel of material that seemed to hug every curve of what lay beneath it. The jacket covered her up completely, but yet it hid nothing. In its own way it was the most revealing jacket she had ever worn. She chuckled to herself and took the jacket off, replacing it with a disposable plastic apron and some rubber gloves. She had learned the hard way that ‘work’ could sometimes get messy.

 

Maria emerged from the plane to find the huddle was still on-going and she wandered over to the van to see if she could see its contents. But the back of the van had no windows and there was no clue as to what it contained. She wandered to the huddle and found Matt signing some forms and tools being put away.

 

“Big van for such a small toolbox,” she said to the mechanic.

 

“Yeah, well. You never know what else might be needed on a plane like this. All these fancy electronic bits, always going bad.”

 

“Just like hostesses,” said Matt. “Always going bad that is.”

 

“Bloody cheek,” replied Maria. “After all I do for you.”

 

“You are the baddest of them all Maria,” chuckled Matt, and then he turned to the mechanic, “I don’t suppose you’ve got any spare hostesses in your van. Just in case we break this one.”

 

“Well it’s funny you should say that. I’ve got five actually.”

 

“Five? I thought you might have six.”

 

“Well one of them didn’t… I’ve only got five. They know. It’s okay.”

 

“Five it is then. Dieter, are the doors locked?”

 

“Certainly are skipper.”

 

“Let’s get to it then shall we?”

 

The back of the mechanic’s van was fitted out with sturdy metal racking down both sides. It was intended to hold lots of small boxes for tools and parts but was actually supporting a wooden plank along each side forming a pair of crude bench seats. And seated along these seats were the ‘spare hostesses’ that Matt had joked about, three on one side and two on the other. As the van doors were opened Maria took a deep breath and drew in the smell of female arousal that was released. It combined with the sight that met her eyes and made her quiver, and she couldn’t stop herself from letting out a lustful moan. The women in the van twitched and whimpered quietly. They had heard the door open and felt the air across their flesh. They knew something was about to happen.

 

The mechanic climbed into the van and began removing the straps that held the first woman onto her hard and unforgiving seat. She was unceremoniously lifted from it and manhandled out of the van until she stood unsteadily on the hanger floor. Maria’s eyes remained fixed on the wooden plank and the black rubber phallus that had been revealed where the woman had sat. It was slick with her juices which had also darkened the plank and even dribbled onto the van floor. It took a nudge from Matt to bring Maria to her senses and get her to begin her part in the scene.

 

“Come on Love,” she said in a calming tone as she placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder and pulled gently on the ring attached to the collar. “Let’s just walk forward a few yards.”

 

Hesitantly the woman responded and walked forward with small, faltering steps following Maria’s leading pull and guiding hand. It only took five strides for Maria to get to the wall of the hanger but it was more than twice that number for the woman she led. Carefully Maria turned her charge around so that she stood facing into the hanger.

 

“That’s it Love. Now just you wait there for a moment while I see to the others.”

 

Maria returned to the van where the second captive had by now been unloaded. She led number two over to stand beside number one and then repeated until all five stood in a line at the edge of the hanger. The mechanic took two large sports bags from the van and dropped them on the floor. Her tasks completed, she seemed keen to leave and was on her way as soon as Dieter could raise the roller shutter. The crew of three then stood together and took in the sight before them, and what a sight it was.

 

The five women were all ‘dressed’ identically. On their feet they wore black strappy sandals on which the delicate looking toe straps contrasted with those at the ankles, which were wide and substantial-looking, with large buckles. From a ring on each ankle strap hung a hobbling chain about a foot long, but the sandals’ heels were high enough to ensure the chain couldn’t drag on the ground. Above the sandals the women were naked all the way up to the tops of their abdomens where their leather covered forearms were folded neatly. The straitjackets did not look anything like the baggy canvas medical things that were Maria’s idea of how a straitjacket looked. These were snug-fitting black leather jackets that were incredibly short. The hem ran across the front of the women’s shoulders, linking armpit to armpit and only dropped a tiny bit lower at the back, struggling to even cover their shoulder-blades. But yet the jackets looked totally secure. The women’s hands were held tightly wrapped around their sides and a strap descended between their breasts to fasten their arms snugly against their chests. And it all made for a rather spectacular sight as five pairs of breasts were perfectly framed by the leather all around them. And if that wasn’t enough, five delicate chains hung in five elegant catenaries from the women’s nipples.

 

The confining straitjackets and hobbled ankles were obviously sufficient to subdue even the fieriest and most uncooperative of captives, but complete and total passivity was guaranteed by the hoods the women also wore. Like the jackets they were black and made of leather and were laced tightly enough to clearly reveal the features of the faces inside. The cheeks and eye-sockets were clearly visible, as were the noses in their shaped leather pouches complete with riveted breathing holes under the nostrils. Also visible were the outlines of mouths, distended and obviously packed with something which seemed to ensure that nothing louder than a moan or a whimper escaped from the hoods.  

 

Maria stared at the women in awe. She wondered what the game was that was playing out in front of her. Whatever it was, it was clearly about more than just restraining the women to keep them captive. A simple pair of handcuffs and bag over the head would have done that. What these women were enduring, it was something else. And it was also work for her because she was the hostess and her job was to look after her passengers, whatever they were wearing.

 

“Okay ladies,” she began in her best, calming hostess voice, “I know it’s probably hard for you to relax, but rest assured there’s no one here who means you any harm. We’re going on a little journey and that’s all there is to it. So I’m going to take you all to the loo and let you do your business, and then we’ll get you on board. So just stay calm and do as I say and we’ll all be just fine.”

 

Maria had no idea how long the women had been strapped up in that van, but judging from the contents of their bladders it had been some considerable time since they had been to the loo. They all had a Scopolamine patch stuck to their left thigh which Maria peeled off and replaced with a fresh one. Even though she was pretty sure their stomachs were all empty, motion sickness in a gag and hood was not likely to end well. The women also had a rubber tube dangling like a tail from a plug pushed into their bottoms. She carefully checked the tubes were securely stoppered as she didn’t want anything leaking out onto her cabin carpets. 

 

Matt and Dieter lifted number one into the plane. Her hobble was too short to allow her to manage the steps. Maria guided her to a seat which she had covered with a disposable plastic cover and a wad of ‘Envirosorb’. The seats were made of something called Ultra-Leather which wiped clean of just about anything, but as she was the one who had to do the wiping Maria preferred the seats stay clean. Before sitting her passenger down, she took a large green rubber phallus, which even had the front half of a scrotum moulded to it, and pushed it into the woman’s moist and slippery vagina with ease. She quickly sat her down and fastened the seatbelt tightly across her lap. The woman moaned but did not struggle or try to resist. Maria then took a long leather strap and clipped it to the woman’s hobble chain. She pushed the strap under the seat and up its back, and looped it through a ring on the top of the woman’s hood. And then came the bit Maria liked best. She hauled the strap tight drawing the woman’s feet under the seat and up off the floor, and also pulling her head firmly into the soft padding of the headrest. When she couldn’t get it any tighter, Maria fastened the buckle. She smiled at the perversity of it. In all her training she had been instructed to encourage the passengers to move about to prevent DVT, and yet here she was, doing this woman up so tightly that she couldn’t move at all. There was no time to stop and savour the moment though, for Matt was leading number two into the cabin.

 

“One done, four to go”, Maria thought as she picked up another green rubber phallus and got started with number two.

 

With three people working as a team it did not take long to get all five captives aboard and secured into their seats. Maria checked that there were no blue or purpling nipples and that all her passengers were breathing easily. She stowed the two sports bags that the mechanic had left and tidied the cabin for departure. Matt was keen to get away as quickly as possible because it was over four thousand miles to Antigua and VC Bird Airport charged double dues for landing after eleven pm local time. As the Gulfstream trundled along the taxiway Maria made her final checks and then began another of her little games. She hitched up her skirt, pulled down her panties and then pushed another green rubber phallus into her own slippery and excited sheath. She nestled its half scrotum against her clit and pulled her panties back up to hold it in place. She sat down in the stewardess’s seat, fastened her seatbelt and told Matt the cabin was set for departure on the intercom. And then she held up a little remote controller and clicked a button on it. Immediately the phallus inside her burst into life, throbbing and vibrating and stimulating the nerves around it. As Maria drew in a deep breath she checked her passengers and noted from the assorted moaning and wriggling that their vibrators had started up too. Her instructions were that her special passengers had to be stimulated for the entire duration of the flight and Maria liked to see how long she could manage the same before it became too much for her and she had to take the vibrator out. With a muted roar the plane accelerated down the runway and rotated into the air. By the time the undercarriage was raised and secured Maria was already well on her way to her first climax, and she was cruising through the stratosphere long before forty three million dollars’ worth of luxury jet made it up that high.

 

As the plane levelled out Maria waddled to the galley to start making two portions of venison in blackberry sauce and one of octopus bolognaise. By the time Cobh Harbour was showing in the starboard windows she had had enough of her vibrator and unable to bear it any longer, she pulled it out. She’d hardly managed three quarters of an hour of it. Maria looked at the five hooded passengers and wondered how they would endure the best part of nine hours of their vibrating intruders. But then she supposed that while she had to find the resolve and the will power to keep going with it, they did not have that luxury. For them there was no choice, they would simply have to endure.

 

Maria did not regard herself as an evil person. She bore no malice towards anyone and tried to treat others as she would wish to be treated herself. All she wanted was to work her way around the world, to have fun and to be happy. And she knew how incredibly lucky she was to have escaped from the drudgery of low cost and charter airlines, and to be working in such a dream job. But no one had ever mentioned anything about ‘other cargos’ or ‘special passengers’ until they had first turned up. And she had been instructed on what to do and how to handle them as if it was all perfectly normal. And if she had refused to do it all, then what? Would she have been sacked and sent back to Sleazyjet? Would she have ended up at the bottom of a lake for saying ‘no’ to a Russian oligarch? And what was the thing with these ‘special passengers’ anyway? Perhaps the phoney maintenance excuses to visit strange airports held their own answer, but surely there were cheaper and better ways of just shipping people across the globe than by flying them around in a luxury jet, even if those people did not want to be shipped across the globe. And what was the thing with all the leather, with the hoods and the straitjackets, and the vibrators, and the rest of it? There was more going on than just moving these women from place to place. They were obviously intended to experience something profound in their treatment, something obviously sexual in nature. Some sort of fetish was being played out, but whose? There was never anyone else on the plane when they carried ‘special passengers’, so who were the ones getting off on it all? Perhaps it was enough for Mr Baryshnikov to know what was going on aboard his plane and he didn’t need to actually see it for himself, or perhaps there was another explanation. Perhaps the ones getting off on it all were the women themselves. Perhaps it was all some sort of elaborate fantasy holiday thing and these women were experiencing being abducted and flown to exotic parts of the world where they would experience being sold as sex slaves and forced to do all manner of terrible things for a couple of weeks, and then before the novelty wore off they would be released and flown home First Class on Virgin Atlantic. That was the explanation that Maria preferred. It saved her from having to answer to her conscience, saved her from having to go back to Sleazyjet, and it might even have saved her if they ever got arrested. And on top of that, it all made her horny, extremely horny, but she couldn’t work out exactly why.

 

She wandered up the cabin and looked at her passengers. One brunette, two blondes, one ginger and one presumably had short hair as there was nothing erupting form under the collar of her hood. One of the blondes’ hair made it right down to her waist and the brunette bore fading tan lines that spoke of the skimpiest of skimpy bikinis. Two of them had pierced belly buttons and Long Blonde had a butterfly tattooed above her shaven pubic mound. Short Blonde looked older than the others, but all were shapely and fit looking. They moaned and shuddered now and again but were otherwise quiet. Ginger wriggled her arms from side to side sometimes, but it caused her nipple chain to swing about and she soon stopped until presumably some sort of frustration caused her to do it again. And sometimes there was the humming or buzzing of their vibrators, and also the smell of arousal. Maria wondered why they had such an effect on her.

 

Maria took the dinners up to the cockpit so that she, Matt and Dieter could eat together. The Gulfstream slipped along almost silently and with silky smoothness in the frigid, still air above the tropopause. While commercial flights were limited to the maximum altitude that the human body could survive depressurisation at, a private jet could go up higher, beyond the turbulence and into the ultra-smooth air above. Below them ships looked like matchsticks drifting in a pond, and above the sky was an inky black as they flew on into a sunset that seemed like it would last forever.

 

“Are we the three luckiest people alive?” asked Matt as he chewed on his octopus bolognaise.

 

“Perhaps,” replied Dieter. “And Maria is surely the luckiest of all because she can have wine with her dinner, which you notice she brings up here and drinks in front of us.”

 

“And very nice it is too. Shame you two can’t have any.”

 

“If I had the money to afford this plane, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it you know,” continued Matt in philosophical mode. “I mean this one flight is going to burn just short of thirteen tons of fuel. Can that really be justified in this day and age? I would feel guilty about being so wasteful.”

 

“But we get to enjoy it not only at someone else’s expense, but without having to feel guilty about it either,” said Dieter, joining his skipper in the contemplatary mood.

 

“Does that mean we don’t have to feel guilty about, you know, our passengers?” added Maria.

 

“Ah, yes. The Hoodies,” replied Matt. “They’re okay?”

 

“As far as I can tell. Which is to say they’re breathing. Beyond that it’s hard to say.”

 

“Do you feel guilty about them Maria?”

 

“I don’t know. Are we part of something terrible here?”

 

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Dieter. “But it turns you on doesn’t it?”

 

“Yes. But that doesn’t mean…”

 

“Why?” asked Matt. “Why does it turn you on? Do you want to be one of them?”

 

“Oh Christ no! I can’t imagine what it’s like to be trussed up like that, for hours and hours, days even. I couldn’t cope with that at all.”

 

“But they don’t have to cope do they. They have no choice. They can’t get free. They can’t resist. They can’t scream or shout or beg for mercy. They can’t even plead with their eyes. They can’t do anything at all about it, but yet what’s happening to them won’t kill them or even harm them really. You say you couldn’t cope, but if we’d strapped you up like that back in England you’d still be alive when we got to Antigua  wouldn’t you? And so you’d find a way. You’d have no choice.”

 

“Fuck, I might survive it, but would I still be me at the other end? I’d go mad.”

 

“So if it’s not the thought of being one of them,” said Dieter, “what is it? Do you like controlling them? Being in power of them? Are you a closet dominatrix?”

 

“I don’t know, perhaps. But I don’t feel I should be able to enjoy it. I mean, you shouldn’t be able to enjoy being bad to someone unless you’re a sadist or something. I’m not like that. It just makes me horny and that’s all there is to it.”

 

“Shame we’ve got passengers on,” said Dieter. “We’re off radar out here. We could do a bit of zero G to help you out Maria.”

 

“Can you imagine what that would be like if you were one of that lot back there?” chortled Matt. “Suddenly finding yourself weightless.”

 

“Would it really feel like weightless if they’re strapped down and can’t float about?”

 

“Their nipple chains would float about.”

 

“Yeah, and get real heavy afterwards. 1.8G in the pull up.”

 

“Well speaking of our passengers, I suppose I better go and see to them,” said Maria. “I’ll leave the men to their fantasies.”

 

Maria gathered up the dinner dishes and took them back to the galley, passing amongst the hooded women on the way. They were all still quiet and peaceful looking on the outside, what was going on inside was anybody’s guess though. Maria looked them over carefully as she passed. Shorty Hair’s body would have set a swimsuit photographer’s heart ablaze. It was bland and flawless, almost as if she was a 3D printed android. Ginger’s was covered in freckles and wider, especially at the hips, but it was still shapely with nice breasts which jiggled sexily as she wriggled her arms back and forth across her chest. Long Blonde was obviously the dolly of the bunch. She was smaller than the others and apart from her impressive mane was totally hairless to the point of being almost shiny. As well as her pierced belly button, she also had a toe ring and her immaculate toenails were painted with bright fuchsia pink varnish. Brunette was tall and athletic-looking, with small breasts, long muscly legs and a hint of a six-pack. And then there was Short Blonde, short being relative, because her hair still fell as far as her breasts. She looked older, maybe late thirties, with some wrinkles here and there and the odd stretch mark and cellulite patch too, but she was still shapely and Maria decided she was her favourite because her body had more character and seemed to have aged to become more interesting and beautiful.

 

Maria checked her list of instructions. Every three hours she was to remove her passengers’ nipple chains for at least twenty minutes to allow blood to flow and prevent damage. She wondered if that was true. She had played with nipple clamps herself and she knew that they hurt like hell when they first went on, but after a while the pain reduced to a severe, but manageable ache. The real agony came when they were taken off and the blood began to flow back to nerves that had been dulled without it. And so she wondered if her instructions were truly to avoid injury, or if they were just to wake up her passengers’ nerves and stop them getting too comfortable. Either way, instructions were instructions, and it was her job to carry them out.

 

She walked over to Brunette and allowed herself an evil little smile as she bent down and squeezed both clamps open at the same time. Immediately the cabin was filled with desperate nasal grunting as Brunette tried in vain to find a way to express her agony. Maria suddenly felt horribly guilty. She remembered the conversation in the cockpit and how she had said she wasn’t a sadist, but she had just taken delight from creeping up on a defenceless woman and hurting her. Maria quietly moved on to Short Blonde. She had obviously heard the stifled screaming and knew something was up. She was panting through her hood and quivering with fear. Maria bent down and whispered into her ear.

 

“I’ve got to take your chain off for a while to let the blood back to your nipples. I’m afraid it’s going to hurt for a few seconds but you’ll be fine.”

 

With that she did the deed and once again filled the cabin with agonised moaning. She laid the chain down in Short Blonde’s lap and moved on to the others who also got the dubious benefit of a whispered warning. With tears in her eyes, but a throbbing in her loins Maria set about the next of her duties.

 

She opened one of the sports bags that had arrived in the van and unloaded some of its contents onto the galley worktop. Some plastic tubes, valves and five clear plastic pouches, each containing one and a half litres of white liquid. The printed medical labels read ‘Saline solution NaCl 0.9%, Dextrose 4%, pancreatized milk 8%. Maria hung the bags on the corners of the oxygen mask covers above each of her passengers’ seats and connected the tubes to the women’s rubber tails that poked out from under them. She set the drip rates at about two per second.

 

It made Maria wonder how long these women had been wearing their hoods and how long they would keep wearing them after the flight was over. The human body needed regular water but could go for many days without any food. Were they really going to be hooded for so long that someone had thought to provide fortified saline solution? A slow but steady increase in the level of moaning in the cabin told Maria that the nutrition was finding its intended destination. She would let them absorb it for an hour or so, and then drain what was left out.

 

“Ooh, feeding time at the zoo,” said Dieter appearing from the cockpit.

 

“Indeed it is,” replied Maria. “I’m trying to imagine a 737 full of slobby holiday makers, all done just like this.”

 

“That would be sight to see. Do you think it would actually be an improvement for Ryan Air passengers?”

 

“Ryan Air would charge extra for it, that’s for sure.”

 

“How long they been going Maria? Time for any belly massaging yet?”

 

“Oh leave them be. Aren’t they going through enough?”

 

“Ah. But what are they going through? Such suffering. Such torment. Such sweet joy perhaps. You can see how it might be joy for them can’t you? I mean, is it not rooted down deep inside every woman to want something like this?”

 

“Did you come through here just to pontificate or is there something else Dieter?”

 

“Err, well, I was wondering if all this was making you horny, and I thought I might be able to help you out with that.”

 

“I see. The direct approach. What did you have in mind?”

 

“Well let me see, that lovely sofa-bed over there, I thought we might fuck on it.”

 

Maria took off her plastic apron. “Okay, and this fucking, would it be a lovey-dovey, tender love-making thing, or a dam hard screwing?” She reached behind her waist, undid the zip of her skirt and wiggled it down over her hips, letting it drop to the floor. She watched Dieter take in the sight of her stockinged legs, her suspenders and her red and black Agent Provocateur panties.

 

“Well however you like, but you’re not usually a lovey-dovey type are you.”

 

Maria unzipped and slipped off her blouse. She showed Dieter that her bra and suspender belt were part of a matching trio with her panties and she posed for him in them. “How hard can you manage, Fly Boy?” she asked in the sluttiest voice she could muster. “If you run out of steam there’s a green dildo in the dishwasher.”

 

The Gulfstream’s autopilot made a tiny adjustment as the plane’s trim was altered slightly by the weight of two human bodies throwing themselves onto the cabin sofa, but none of the other expensive electronic systems registered any effect. The same was not true of the human pilot who heard all the noise and left the plane to itself for a few minutes to investigate, with hopes of joining in. In due course, the ultra-exclusive Nine-and-a-Half Mile High Club welcomed three more members to its privileged ranks.

 

“Did you say there’s a dildo in the dishwasher?” asked Dieter when it was all over and Matt had gone back to the cockpit.

 

“I did,” replied Maria as she gathered up her clothes from the cabin floor.

 

“What’s it doing in the dishwasher?”

 

“Easiest way to clean them.”

 

“You wash dildos in the dishwasher? Eargh, that’s gross. Our plates and stuff go in there.”

 

“So? You don’t have any problem sticking your tongue inside me, so why is it a problem if my dildo’s been in the dishwasher?”

 

“Well, it’s still gross. Please tell me you don’t have a butt plug. What if Baryshnikov found out what his cutlery got washed with?”

 

“Well I don’t normally get to use a dildo if he’s on board do I. I’m going for a quick shower and then I fancy coffee.”

 

“Ooh, coffee. Sounds good. Assuming the cups are in a sanitary state of course.”

 

Twenty two minutes and nearly a quarter of the plane’s meagre water tank later, Maria emerged from the head in a fresh uniform, with freshly done make-up and looking completely immaculate again. To her surprise Dieter had taken it upon himself to make the coffee and a cup of freshly ground Jamaica Blue Mountain was waiting for her on the galley counter. She took it into the cabin and sat down with Dieter.

 

“Why two bags?” she asked, noticing the second sports bag still sitting on the seat opposite them.

 

“Dunno,” replied Dieter. “More enema bags perhaps?”

 

Maria got up and opened the second bag. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head at what she found inside.

 

“Look at this Dieter. It’s a complete ‘abduct a slave kit’.”

 

“Oh my God, so it is. This must be the gear for no-show number six.”

 

Maria lifted a straitjacket out of the bag. It was brand new and still wrapped in tissue paper. “I feel better for seeing this,” she said.

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“Well it’s never been worn. That means number six never got to wear it. I wondered if perhaps she had, you know, choked or something. But it looks like she never got, err, captured.”

 

“Who knows? Maybe she chickened out at the last minute, assuming of course they sign up for all this.”

 

Maria pulled more things from the bag. A pair of sandals complete with hobble, a nipple chain, a roll of Vetwrap and several packets containing car polishing chamois leather pads.

 

“What…?” she asked.

 

“Err, a gag I guess,” replied Dieter. “The leather pads are stuffed in the mouth and the Vetwrap seals them in. No wonder they don’t make much noise.”

 

“Oh my God, look at this!” exclaimed Maria as she found a three dimensional replica of the Ace of Spades. “This must be… No wonder they never push them out.”

 

“Phew, how would anyone get that out once it’s gone in?”

 

“I dread to think. Imagine having to sit down on it, for hours on end.”

 

“Well seeing as we’ve got a complete spare kit here, you can have a go at being a ‘special passenger’ can’t you Maria.”

 

“Oh fuck that! NO. That thing up my bum? Just NO. Although I do like the straitjacket. If you’re very lucky I might let you put me in that for a while. On your birthday maybe, or mine.”

 

“I am so definitely going to hold you to that Maria.”

 

After their exploration of the second sports bag’s contents Dieter went back to the cockpit and Maria tidied away the coffee stuff. She sat down in one of the enormous seats, reclined it back and dozed for half an hour. She often slept a little on long haul flights to ease the jetlag. After her snooze she went through the cabin and lifted her passengers’ enema bags off the overhead consoles and placed them on the floor. This was greeted with almost immediate groans of what sounded to Maria like relief. She left the bags on the floor for twenty minutes and noted that generally well under half of what went in had come back out, the exception being Ginger who had hardly given anything back. She disconnected the bags and securely stoppered the women’s rubber tubes. Then one by one, she took them to the loo. Brunette first, then Long Blonde, Ginger and Shorty Hair were each released from their seats and led through the cabin to the head where they gratefully relieved themselves. Maria kept Short Blonde until last. She whispered into her ear that she was going to take her to the loo and then unbuckled the strap binding her hood to her hobble. Short Blonde groaned as the tension released from her body and her feet lowered to the floor. Maria undid the seatbelt and helped the hooded women to slowly stand and begin the slow and stiff hobble to the head. Maria noticed that of all the women, Short Blonde was the only one whose vibrator remained inside her when she stood up. It stayed there all the way to the head and Maria had to remove it before she sat the woman down to pee.

 

While urine flowed, Maria couldn’t help lifting the green and slimy vibrator to her nose and taking a deep breath of Short Blonde’s aroma. She looked down at the anonymous body in front of her, at its shape, its legs, its breasts. Why did this one have such an effect on her? What did this one have that the other four didn’t? She took another lungful of the woman’s scent and then tore off some toilet paper to dry her off. She bent down, reached between Short Blonde’s legs and gently padded her labia with the paper. Short Blonde moaned in a way that seemed to beg for more and before Maria knew what she was doing, her lips made contact with a breast and she kissed. Short Blonde did not try to resist or pull away. Instead she seemed to push her breast forward as if asking for more. Maria kissed again and moved her lips to find a nipple. Her rubber gloved hand dropped the toilet paper and began to probe Short Blonde’s labia. The moaning increased, and was joined by Maria’s own grunts as once again her passions lit up and she threw herself into it. She sucked the nipple into her mouth, held it between her teeth and teased it with her tongue. Her finger slipped into the woman’s sheath and was soon followed by two more. Moments later Maria surrendered the last vestiges of self-control. She pulled the woman to the edge of the toilet seat, pushed her knees apart and buried her face into her, pressing her nose into her mound and searching out her clit with her tongue. As the woman rose to climax, Maria could almost feel the energy trapped within her, reverberating around her bound and hooded body and unable to find a way to be expressed and released. Finally it did find a way out. Short Blonde squirted into Maria’s mouth as she continued her attentions. Although she was taken completely by surprise, Maria’s oral reactions kicked in and she swallowed instinctively. She realised what she’d done, but she didn’t care. She opened her mouth wider, pushed her lips forward and hoped for more. Short Blonde managed to oblige.

 

It was only as Maria guided her blonde partner back to her seat that it occurred to her that she’d never had sex with a woman before. She’d fooled around with a couple of friends a little, but never anything like what she’d just done. She wondered what was happening to her. Had she really just been seduced by a bound and hooded woman, or had she just seduced herself with a planeload of bound and hooded women? She slipped the vibrator back into the woman’s soft and slimy sheath and sat her back down on her ‘Envirosorb’ cushion. She fastened the seatbelt and hood strap, pulling them absolutely as tight as she could get them, and she then re-attached the nipple chain.

 

“I think I love you,” she whispered into the woman’s ear before returning to the head to once again clean herself up and redo her make-up.

 

For the rest of the flight Maria tried to make herself busy and keep her attention away from her passengers and any thoughts connected to them. She did some paperwork, inventoried the plane’s bar stock and made up a late snack of pork and apple sausage rolls and mini New York cheesecakes which she served in the cockpit with peach and jasmine tea. As she carried the trays of food through the cabin, she couldn’t help herself looking down at the tightly trussed body of her lover and feeling the wave of hormones once again. She shut it out and hid in the cockpit where there were men to distract her until they were approaching Antigua. Keen to re-establish her image of herself as an active, heterosexual woman, she almost offered to play ‘the game’ as they landed, but she remembered they never played when there were others on board.

 

Maria returned to the cabin as the Gulfstream descended into the bumpy air of the troposphere and homed in on their island destination. She checked on her passengers and felt a little guilty about neglecting them in order to keep her hormones under control. But she couldn’t stop herself lingering beside Short Blonde, the woman with whom she had experienced something special. That body still held its power over her and she struggled to pull her eyes away from it. Eventually Maria got herself into landing mode and made her checks. She settled herself in the hostess seat and told Matt that the cabin was set for landing on the intercom. She watched the lights of Antigua mark out its crinkly and indented shape in the black ocean as they circled round to approach runway 07 from the south west. Ten thousand and sixty six feet of smooth asphalt aligned perfectly with a steady trade wind, made for the easiest of landings and Matt’s touchdown was one of the smoothest Maria had experienced. At the end of the runway, the plane turned its back on the posh new terminal building and instead headed off to the east side of the airport where there were hangers, private planes and maintenance sheds. They drew up beside a white steel hanger and were pushed inside by a much smarter little tractor than the rusty old one at Cotswold Airport.

 

Maria went through her arrival ritual, knowing that the tropical heat would very quickly force her to remove her gloves, hat, and jacket, but feeling the need to be smart as she opened the door. To her surprise the hanger was air-conditioned and cool inside. She waited at the cabin door while Matt descended the steps to the hanger floor and shook hands with a uniformed official. The far-reaching Baryshnikov money machine had obviously greased the wheels of bureaucracy and the uniformed man smiled politely, stamped the crew’s passports and left, closing the hanger doors behind him.

 

Dieter appeared beside Maria at the door.

 

“Oh wow! Now isn’t that a beautiful sight,” he said as he climbed down the steps.

 

“What’s a beautiful sight?” asked Maria as she followed him. “You weren’t looking at me when you said that were you. What else is beautiful in here?”

 

“That is,” he replied and gestured to the helicopter at the other side of the hanger. “Agusta 109 Power Elite, twin engines, retractable undercarriage and good for nearly two hundred miles an hour. Check out those sleek, flowing lines.”

 

“Mmm, just looks like a helicopter to me,” replied Maria. “Not as boxy as some I suppose.”

 

Two men appeared from somewhere over by the helicopter and greeted Matt and Dieter with handshakes before fixing their eyes on Maria as she caught up with them. She smiled and decided they were both hunky and flirtable. The four men started talking aircraft, admiring each-others’ rides and exchanging specs, and Maria instigated a campaign of body language to make sure the two newcomers’ attention was firmly fixed on her. She wondered about taking on all four of them at once. She was Maria, the sexiest hostess in the world and she could take them on and show them what a real woman could do. But then she realised that she was only trying to blot out the fact that she had made love to another woman less than three hours earlier. And of all the people inside that hanger, she knew which was the one she really wanted.

 

It turned out that the snazzily black and gold painted Agusta, complete with blacked out cabin windows was the onward transport for the five captive women still aboard the Gulfstream. The helicopter pilot was keen to get going as soon as possible as it was late in the evening, and so one by one, Maria released her passengers from their seats and guided their stiff, faltering and hobbled steps to the cabin door where Matt and Dieter lifted them down to the hanger floor. Maria kept Short Blonde until last, taking in the sight of her body each time she passed her. And as she worked, the doubts and questions filled Maria’s mind. She and Short Blonde had shared something special. They were connected and yet Maria knew nothing about her or the circumstances of her being trussed up and hooded and flown across the world. She desperately wanted to ask, and when her hood strap was released Short Blonde would be able to nod or shake her head. Maria could ask if she was here willingly. She could ask if it was just some sort of millionaires’ kinky game. But if she asked and the answer was no, then what? Could she live with her conscience if she did nothing to help? Would she have to give up everything she had worked for? Would she have to call the police? Would she end up in jail? If she didn’t ask, then there was still the possibility that it was all an innocent fetish game.

 

She remained paralysed by indecision and confusion about her feelings, and when it was Short Blonde’s turn to be unloaded, Maria went into autopilot, releasing her from her seat and guiding her to the door. But she followed the object of her confusion and desire as it was carried down the steps and then insisted on taking charge of her for the slow, mincing hobble to the helicopter. There she saw the other women already strapped in. Once again their feet were pulled up under their seats and their hoods pulled into the headrests. The helicopter crew took their last passenger aboard and Maria felt the tears welling up in her eyes and a deep sense of loss within her.

 

With the cargo loaded, Matt opened the hanger door and Dieter brought the little tractor round to pull the helicopter out into the floodlit darkness. Ten minutes later Maria watched the Agusta lift off, tuck its wheels inside itself and head off northwards towards the sea, taking a large chunk of her heart with it.

 

“Where are they going?” she asked Matt.

 

“Barbuda. If you want a little piece of paradise away from prying eyes, Barbuda’s your place.”

 

Maria thought that sounded bad for Short Blonde and her companions.





To be concluded in part two. Now available here: