Flight 6

By: Alyssa Hyatt

Exactly one hundred and eighty-three seconds later, Skye Blue stumbled
out of the toilet cubicle, looking like a far cruder version of the
prissily-presented stewardess she had portrayed earlier in the day. With
only three minutes to paint her face, Miss Blue was forced to hastily
sacrifice finesse for volume. If she didn't look like a sex worker
before, she absolutely did now with those gaudy red lips and whorish
smoky eye shadow. At least the two remaining poppers on her latex dress
kept her covered enough that she wouldn't get arrested for indecent
exposure the moment she stepped off the plane. Barely.

"You're late, slut" spat Michelle, inspecting her husband up and down.
She lifted the hem of Skye's dress up and took a good look at the
shrivelled male equipment that once gave her so much  pleasure. "Guess
we should call you Miss Black-and-Blue from now on, don't you think?"
she giggled.

"Yes, Madam," croaked Skye.

"Yes, Madam," repeated Michelle, mocking her husbands' surgically-
induced sing-song voice. "Is that all you have to say for yourself? I
thought you'd grateful that I allowed part of my body to come into
contact with that pathetic little acorn of yours!"

"Yes, Madam, of course, Madam, I am most grateful that you were prepared
to endure the indignity of your foot having to come into contact with my
pathetic little acorn, Madam" blathered Skye, who was willing to say
just about anything to get this humiliating dressing-down to stop.

The smirk on Michelle's face grew ever-wider. "Don't mention it, sugar.
Any time. Seriously. Now, I think we've wasted enough time on your girly
gossiping. Get out there and tend to your passengers. NOW!"

With that, Michelle pushed the unsteady stewardess towards the curtain,
stamping on the back of her heels as she staggered out to keep Skye's
pace honest. On the other side, they were greeted by a rather non-
plussed Mr Hanson, who was nursing an almost empty glass of wine.

"Excuse me, pilot?" he began, looking straight past the bedraggled
flight attendant. "Can I complain about the terrible service on this
flight? My hostess went missing for over 45 minutes! Any longer, and I
would have had to have gone a few seconds without a top-up of my drink!"

"My sincerest apologies on behalf of Layover Airways, Mr Hanson,"
replied Michelle, "but it appears that our hostess sneaked off to
pleasure herself in the toilets." She raised Skye's dress once more to
reveal her bruised appendage. "As you can see, she really gave it a go!"
Skye's cheeks burned bright as the pair laughed at her tiny swollen
tiddler.

"So she did!" remarked Mr Hanson. "That's not the behaviour I expect
from one of your hostesses.  The brochure said they were fitted with
chastity devices to prevent this very thing happening!"

"You are correct, Mr Hanson, but what can I say? You must have turned on
the poor girl so much that she just HAD to run into the toilets and
break it off. I can only apologise and promise that we'll fit her with a
tighter, more uncomfortable model in the future." This caused Skye to
fidget slightly as Michelle continued. "But in the meantime, you have
the free reign to dish out any punishment you deem appropriate to our
hostess for her thoughtless behaviour."

Mr Hanson chuckled and then waved his hand dismissively, to the relief
of Skye. "Very kind of you to offer, but it's okay, really. Girls like
her can't help themselves when they're around me, you know."

Michelle was visibly disappointed. She cast Skye a sharp 'what are you
up to?' sort of look for a second, and then turned back to the passenger
and spoke, softly but pointedly. "So, Mr Hanson. Am I right in saying
you've developed a bit of a sweet spot for our dear hostess?"

Mr Hanson didn't seem to pick up on her tone. "You could say that, yes!
I tell you, Captain McLaren, I didn't think I could feel this way about
a shemale, but she's been great company on this flight. Extremely, ahem,
hospitable. Willing to go above and beyond the call of duty. In fact,
she mentioned a very interesting proposal to me earlier which I'm
thinking of taking her up on..."

"Did she now," remarked Michelle, coolly. "Please, do go on."

Oh crap! He was about to tell her all about their hotel rendezvous! She
would be sure to stick her oar in and ruin all those carefully-laid
plans! Skye's eyes darted around the cabin in a desperate search for
someone or something to intervene. As nothing was forthcoming, she had
to take emergency action. She flung herself theatrically onto Mr
Hanson's knees, stomach first, and poked her cute butt as high up in the
air as it would reach.

The brazen act stunned all three observers in equal measure, so the
floor was clear for Skye to explain her actions. "Oh, Sir, pardon me for
interrupting, but I absolutely must be punished for my transgressions!"

Michelle knew now for sure that her hubbie was up to something, but she
seemed placated enough by the fact she was making an idiot of herself.
So, she let it slide for now.

"Honestly, Miss Blue, I appreciate the offer, but I'm in the middle of a
conversation with the Captain. We can work out a punishment later. Now,
where we were?"

Skye stepped up her efforts. "No, Mr Hanson, I'm afraid I must insist!"
She pulled her skirt up around her waist, revealing her naked ass,
complete with obscene 'Cockpit' tattoo. The sight of that thing always
threatened to make Michelle corpse.

Mr Hanson still didn't seem convinced. "I don't think that will-"

Skye cut him off in mid-sentence. "You must punish me!" wailed the
flight attendant. She gave her own backside a swat as if to get to ball
rolling. "You must, you must!" She started spanking herself over and
over. "I've been a bad girl!" * THWACK! * "I'm a bad girl!" *THWACK *
"Bad girl!"

Mr Hanson was amused by the preposterous display occurring on his lap.
"Okay, okay. I can see you value excellent customer service, Miss Blue.
I appreciate that, being in this industry too. Therefore the only
honourable thing I can do is punish you."

"Plus," he added with a pervy glint in his eye, "I think you secretly
quite like it."

Michelle watched on with interest as Skye braced herself for the
spanking of her lifetime. But nothing could have braced her for the
sheer force with which the palm of his hand would slam down on her
wobbly bottom. "Oooh!" she moaned as her eyes watered from the impact.
Skye wanted to scream her lungs out, but didn't. Even now, after all the
hormones and cocks that had been injected into her, the silly, deluded
thing was trying to be a man.

A second spank rang round the cabin like a gunshot. "Oooooooooh," she
groaned. Then the strikes began raining down on her ass at a rate of one
per second. By the 25th blow, Skye's will had broken and she was flat-
out sobbing her eyes out. "This hurts me more than it hurts you!" he
shouted over the hostesses' cries.

The sight of her once-noble hubbie being put in her place by a superior
man made Michelle's pussy twinge a little. She decided now would be a
good time to retire the captain's quarters. "I'll leave you to get on
with it, then. But before I go, Mr Hanson, I'm pleased to inform you
that your duty free shopping is ready for collection"

Michelle handed a large brown bag to Mr Hanson and strolled back towards
the cockpit. Skye craned her neck back to see what items he had
purchased. She knew it wouldn't be good news either way. Layover's duty
free store did a roaring trade and every single item it stocked equalled
pain, misery and humiliation for poor old Miss Blue.

Skye wiped away the tears in her eyes and sneaked a peek - within
seconds her eyes began welling up again. Mr Hanson was brandishing the
nastiest, roughest looking leather paddle she had ever seen. It was
about half a metre long and was garnished with several spiteful-looking
nail heads, for that added sensation for the lady.

"Let's see...you were gone for 47 minutes...so how about 47 swats on
that cute little bubble-butt of yours and we'll call it even. Sound
fair, Miss Blue?"

What could she say to that? "Yes, Sir, you're too kind, Sir," she
sniffed.

"And remember to thank me after each blow, my dear. This is for your own
benefit."

"Yes, Sir."

And so it began. CRACK! Skye's macho pretence wilted under the pain of
the vicious paddle. She wailed and cried and blubbed like a new-born.
"Thank you, Sir" she whimpered, softly.

CRACK. Each strike felt like someone had piledriven a hornet's nest into
her ass cheeks. Still she managed to compose herself long enough to
thank her passenger for his kindness. By strike number 47, Skye's rosy-
red tush was so bruised and tormented you could barely make out the red-
raw handprint that Mr Hanson had left earlier. "Th-th-thank you Sir!"
she uttered for the final time through quivering lips.


Mr Hanson lifted Skye up by the armpits and dumped her ass-first onto
his lap, a motion which made her wince in pain for obvious reasons.
"You did great, girl," he praised, giving her a warm hug which she
gratefully received, sobbing into Mr Hanson's shoulder as she did so.

After Skye had let it all out, Mr Hanson further rewarded her with a
passionate kiss, his tongue rudely probing every last inch of her mouth
like it just didn't care. Pulling away, Mr Hanson adopted a more serious
tone. "Now how about that breakfast, sweetie? You were supposed to be
preparing that an hour ago"

Skye's eyes bulged out of her head cartoonishly as she suddenly
remembered the breakfast. "Oh, poo!"


-----------------------------------------

Skye minced back to the kitchen in her painful too-small heels and
opened the oven door. 'Oh, poo' didn't even begin to cover it. The
breakfast was burnt to a crisp! All that Skye could salvage from the
operation was the porridge, which was promptly re-heated but was long
past its prime.  No too ways about it: she was in big trouble.

She dumped the two bowls of congealed porridge onto her brand-new
service trolley (certainly, she hadn't seen it before) and wheeled it
out to her passengers. This trolley seemed to be shorter than her last
one - so low down that she was forced to bend at the waist and take
little faggoty steps to move it along. All the while, her braless tits
swung freely in front of her as she struggled to push the heavy trolley
out into the cabin.

When she re-appeared, she noticed that Mr Tarasov had awoken and the two
'gents' were now conversing boisterously in their normal seats. Skye
sheepishly placed the ruined porridge in front of the two moguls.

"What the hell is this?" complained Mr Hanson, prodding the slop with
his spoon. "Where's the rest of our breakfast?"

"Sorry, gentleman. I am afraid I've overcooked your breakfast."

It was way to early in the morning for Mr Tarasov to hear bullshit like
this. "How the FUCK did you do that, you worthless bitch?" he fumed.

"Go ahead. Tell him," prompted Mr Hanson, his arms crossed in
disapproval.

Skye looked off into the distance and made eye contact with Vlad, who
smirked and shook his head. So, telling the truth wasn't an option.
Regrettably, that left Skye with only Michelle's take on what had
happened to offer.

"I'm afraid I was too busy pleasuring myself in the toilets to tend to
the breakfast properly, Mr Tarasov. Please accept my deepest, most
heartfelt apologies."

The bad news caused Mr Tarasov's blood pressure to rise to unprecedented
levels. "You mean to say," he began, "that you thought it was more
important to jerk yourself off than prepare my breakfast."

"I'm so sorry, Sir..." offered Skye, her eyes cast downwards.

"Well then!" Mr Tarasov was in full-blown Basil Fawlty mode now. "Then I
guess that instead of having breakfast, I should jerk you off then,
being as that's obviously far more important! Get over here, you useless
cow!"

Skye apprehensively inched towards the raging Russian. He reached out
and grabbed her by the collar, ripping her dress clean off her feminized
body. At least one of the two remaining poppers snapped off - if not
both. For the second time in under an hour, Skye Blue was stark-naked in
front of an incensed Eastern European.

Mr Tarasov yanked the nude flight attendant into his lap and began
aggressively masturbating her with his coarse, fat right hand. "I was
really looking forward to those pancakes, you selfish bitch" he growled
as Skye writhed and groaned from his ministrations. Mr Hanson laughed,
pulled out his packed lunch and went back to reading his complementary
morning paper.

Skye was determined not to suffer the indignation of having this
disgusting ogre bring her to a climax, but once he began using his other
hand to snake across her ultra-sensitive breasts, it was a losing
battle. Skye's dicklet sent hot shemale cum arcing through the air as
Tarasov applied the vinegar strokes, her useless seed landing in the
middle of the unwanted bowl of cold porridge.

Tarasov pressed the palm of his hand into Skye's face and used it to
push her onto the floor. Next, he laid the bowl of cum-seasoned porridge
in front of her and began removing his right shoe and sock. The stench
of his foot immediately filled Skye's nostrils and made her want to
retch.

Tarasov dipped his manky foot into the porridge and began stirring it
round and round. Once he was sure the cum and porridge was nicely
blended, he lifted the oat-coated appendage to the level of Skye's
mouth. "I grew up in a part of Russia where people struggle to feed
their families, slut. I hate to see good food go to waste. Open wide!"

Skye opened wide, but to offer her protestations. Before any words came
out, the foot went in.

"Urrrrrrrggmmmm" groaned Skye as she sucked the pungent gunk from
Tarasov's foot. He didn't remove it until all the porridge had been
consumed, meaning Skye's tongue had to work especially hard to get
between his rancid toes. Once it was all gone, he immediately dunked it
back in and guided it back to her mouth. This cycle repeated several
times before Tarasov grew bored. Putting his footwear back on, he
instructed the hostess to finish the rest of the bowl by dipping her
boobs into the slop and licking them clean. This took her quite some
time, but eventually the bowl was spotless. Placated, Tarasov ruffled
her hair affectionately as Skye concentrated all her efforts into not
vomiting the revolting meal back up onto the floor. The knowledge that
she would probably have to lick that up as well helped her keep her meal
down.

At that moment, another figure walked into the room. "Was breakfast to
your satisfaction, gents?"

Mr Hanson peered over his paper and smiled. "Yes thank you, Captain
McCloud. I think Mr Tarasov especially enjoyed it!"

Randy spoke with amusement in his voice. "I see you're both already well
acquainted with my new girlfriend. Whatcha doin' down there on your
hands and knees, blossom?"

Instead of answering, Skye almost vomited over Mr Tarasov's shoes.


-----------------------------------------

Randy McCloud locked his hands around Skye's hourglass waist
possessively as he fielded questions from his boss and his business
partner.

"Oh yes, we've been dating for a while now," he explained. "Funny story,
really: we met in one of Heathrow's waiting lounges."

"How cute" grinned Mr Hanson. "A typical airline romance. Was it love at
first sight?"

"I think it was, yes. But she played hard to get for a while. You know
how girls are. She was being really bitchy about me. Talking about me
behind my back. But it was playground teasing really - I think she
wanted to get in my pants from the moment she saw me. Isn't that right,
sweets?"

"Yes, my darling" pouted Skye unenthusiastically.

"Well, I'm pleased for you, Randy. It was a bit of a shock when Ace
outed you as a homosexual, but I must say you've landed on your feet
with this one! I have to say, even as a heterosexual man, I'd happily
tap that ass!"

"Be my guest, gentlemen!" beamed Randy.

"You don't mind?" interjected Mr Tarasov.

"Of course not, no! I know full well my girl is in the sex trade
industry. I don't mind at all. In fact, it  turns me on a little. Even
though my wage could probably support us both, I hope to see her working
for Layover for many, many years to come. And I couldn't think of anyone
better to share her delights with than you two fine gents. In fact, I've
come down here on my break specifically to show you how to operate the
service trolley you ordered!"

"Ahh. I've been looking forward to this!" said Tarasov, clapping his
hands expectantly.

"Skye, be a doll and lay down on the top of the trolley stomach first,
so we can show our guests how this device works" commanded Skye's
'boyfriend'. Skye nervously clambered up onto the surface and looked
over at Randy with a uneasy expression on her face.

"Oooh, that looks sore, darling" remarked Randy on his girl's bruised
backside, giving it a playful slap that yielded a satisfying squeal.
"Now, what you do is pull this cord, and the back and side panels come
away so we can see underneath. Now, see that giant latch? Let's see what
happens when we pull it open."

The latch opened a trap door underneath Skye's prone body. It was just
big enough to let her comedy breasts flop through, leaving them dangling
freely underneath. He then opened a second, much smaller door which was
perfectly placed to let her teeny testicles drop through. Randy detached
the trap doors and cast them to one side and then set about winching a
giant handle on the side of the trolley. Skye looked around in panic as
she attempted to see what was happening. She felt it before she saw it -
a couple of metal vices were now locked around her tits and testes,
locking her firmly in place! Skye freaked out and began trying to lift
herself off the trolley, but it was no good!

"And there ends the demonstration. What we have here now is one bona
fide 'trolley dolly', just as you ordered!" smirked Randy.

The three men gathered round like vultures to survey their helpless
prey. Skye immediately started pleading for clemency, but her squeaks
only irritated Mr Tarasov further. The oligarch pulled the emergency
cord above his seat, causing several bright yellow ball gags to drop
down from a hatch in the ceiling. Skye took the hint and held her
tongue.

Hanson and the good Captain took a back seat as Tarasov inspected the
silent shemale from all angles. Her eyes tracked him nervously as he
groped her clamped breasts, fiddled with her backside and closely
examined her facial features. What was he going to do to her? Skye
closed her eyes and tried to imagine the scene a few days from now, when
she was alone with Mr Hanson in his hotel room so she could explain to
him exactly what was going on. Not long 'till freedom now. Let Mr
Tarasov do what he wanted with her body! When she was a man again - not
just any man, the best pilot on this green earth! - she'd repay his
actions in kind and then some! With Richard Hanson in tow, they'd bring
the once-mighty Imperial Airlines - and Mr Tarasov with it - to its
knees!


As it happened, it was Mr Hanson's rich voice that spoke first. "So, Mr
Tarasov. You've had an extensive look at the goods. Europa has met your
demands. I trust we have a deal?"

"Absolutely, comrade. This was better than I could have ever hoped for.
With this handshake, I declare the proposed merger between Europa and
Imperial official!"

"Wh-wait, what?" blurted Skye, forgetting the imminent threat of being
ball-gagged for a second.

Mr Hanson turned his attentions to the helpless hostess. "Oh, sorry my
dear. This must be quite bewildering to you. After all, this is really
big news. You should look out for it in the papers tomorrow, by the way.
Allow me to explain. Mr Tarasov and I have struck a deal to merge our
airlines. As part of the deal, Mr Tarasov has agreed to relinquish his
position on the board and retire from the industry. I will be the sole
chairman of the new Europa-Imperial Airlines company."

What? This was impossible! These were the two biggest airlines in the
world! They had been bitter rivals for longer than Skye had even been
alive. What on earth could have made a man as rich and powerful as Mr
Tarasov agree to such a deal?

"I suppose you're wondering what I offered Mr Tarasov to make him agree
to such a deal?" said Mr Hanson, reading Skye's mind. Ten million? A
hundred million? No, and no. When I proposed the deal, he asked for one
thing, and one thing only, and that's what I gave him. I was taken aback
by his request, I must admit. It was definitely a steep price. But I
decided it was more than worth it." He crouched down next to her and
whispered into her ear: "It was you, Ace!"

"WHAT? Rich? You know it's me? You have to help me! Rich! Rich! Help me!
They've...they've turned me into a bimbo! Come on, we're pals! Rich!
Rich!" Skye was now thrashing around wildly atop the trolley, but to no
avail - the vice grips were holding her firmly into place. Mr Tarasov
whistled for Vlad, who bombed over and fitted the ballgag into the
shrieking hostesses' mouth.

Now silenced, Skye had no option but to listen to the rest of Mr
Hanson's tale. "As you may have noticed, Mr Tarasov has a bit of a
temper on him. He doesn't forgive and forget when people slight him. And
he never forgot how you spoke to him at last year's afterparty. Do you
remember what it was you said to him?"

"You've got more chance of touching a touching a woman's tit than you
have of gaining my services" Mr Tarasov helped out, copping a load of
Skye's exposed hooters as he did so. "Sound familiar, Ace? Well, this
'fat bloated Ruskie' now owns you lock, stock and barrel!"

Back to Mr Hanson. "At first he wanted you dead, which I didn't have a
problem with. Oh, don't look at me like that, sweetheart, although you
are cute when you're angry. It's not that I didn't value our friendship,
it's just that I value being the airline industry's most powerful man a
hell of a lot more. And to be honest, your constant misogynistic PR
gaffs weren't doing much for our share price."

Skye seethed into her gag as the story continued.

"But then we planned it out properly and we realised your absence would
leave somewhat of a void. After all, having a celebrity pilot on our
books was excellent publicity, despite your occasional faux-pas'. So we
began looking down our list of pilots to see if there was a replacement
at hand that could fill your considerable shoes. Between the pair of us,
we could only come up with one name: Randy McCloud."

Skye bit into her gag. She knew where this was going. "But
unfortunately, a certain someone outed him as being gay a couple of
years ago. I know it shouldn't matter, but we still live in a very
homophobic world, as you perhaps can appreciate, Ace. We drafted Randy
into our scheme and asked if he was willing to 'go straight' for the
good of the company, but he was unwilling to do so. He said it would be
difficult to live a lie, and that was more than fair enough."

"But I did offer a counter-proposal" interjected Randy.

"Indeed he did. He suggested he'd be willing to marry a shemale. But
where do you find one of those who is both completely passable - to the
point that they could realistically attend social functions without
being 'read' - and trustworthy enough that she wouldn't ever divorce him
and go straight to the papers with the story? The answer was simple: we
needed to make our own"

"When they approached me with the proposal, I instantly fell in love
with it" interrupted Mr Tarasov. "It was far more delicious than simply
having you killed. Just imagine: the ultimate ladies' man, the James
Bond of the skies, reduced to a mere boy toy for his most hated rival.
Well, I guess you don't have to imagine it, do you, 'Skye Blue'? This is
your reality now!" All four men laughed long and loud as tears began
flowing down Skye's cheeks.

"But then we had to consider the paper trail" continued Mr Hanson. "You
can't just make someone 'disappear' - questions will be asked. So we
slowly sent out feelers to your wife. Randy here began showing her
videotaped proof of your adulterous liaisons. It didn't take long before
she was firmly on board with our plan. All the pieces were now in place.
Do you remember who it was that recommended your wife get a new plastic
surgeon?"

Skye couldn't reply, but didn't need to. It was Mr Hanson.

It was like they were lining up to put the boot in. Tarasov spoke next.
"We hold all the cards, Miss Blue. You think this fake passport of yours
would hold up to scrutiny? Cross our paths even once and we'll shop you
to the authorities. You'll be doing life in some unspeakable Russian
men's prison so fast it'll make your bimbo head spin. How well do you
think you'll do there, looking like that?"

Randy moved in close to deliver the final blow. He crouched down to
Skye's level and licked the tears from her cheeks. "All that's left now,
my dear, is for us to consummate our marriage. I've booked us into a
nice drive-through wedding chapel in Las Vegas. Michelle has kindly
donated her wedding dress for the occasion!"

Skye pictured the accursed dress in his head. Contrary to her wishes,
Ace had insisted on her wearing an outrageously fussy 'princess' style
dress with a ribbed corset design that crushed even her size 8 ribs.
Skye would barely be able to breath in that thing!

"And that kills too birds with one stone, Skye, because I see that your
uniform is in a state of, ahem, disrepair! So you'll simply have to wear
your wedding dress for the entire time you're out here! Oh, don't cry,
baby - you'll look absolutely stunning teetering down the Strip as a
blushing bride!"

"All the guys in Caesars Palace will be asking you to blow on their
dice!"  roared Mr Hanson to the approval of the room. "by the way, we're
still on for our date, right?"

Skye couldn't offer a response, so her fiancé stepped in. "Count on it!"
winked Randy.

"This calls for a toast. You too, Vlad, you're part of our inner circle
now" Vlad brought over four glasses of champagne and passed them on the
gents in the room. "Cheers!" The four clinked glasses as Skye dribbled
frantically through her gag.

"Sorry, how rude of us" spoke Mr Hanson after the four men had finished
drinking. "Do you have anything to say, Miss Blue?"

Vlad removed the gag, and indeed Miss Blue had plenty to say.

"You fucking bastards! You'll never get away with this! I'll get you
all! You fucking PRICKS! I'll kill you all! I'll cut off your cocks!
I'll..."

Skye's foul-mouthed tirade was suddenly cut off by Vlad inserting an o-
ring gag into her big mouth. "Looks like someone forgot about Layover's
strict 'demerit' system" giggled Randy. It was true - Skye had accrued
so many demerits in the space of half a minute that she may as well have
the words 'Miss Potty-Mouth tattooed onto her right breast.
Coincidentally, that was one of the possibilities Michelle would discuss
with the lads that night in the hotel bar.

"Well, to the victors go the spoils" declared Mr Hanson, as all four men
simultaneously unbuckled their belts. Mr Hanson had first crack. He
walked round to Miss Blue's gagged mouth and pulled out his erect penis.
"I was going to save this for later, but I just can't sit by while
everyone else samples the goods" he cackled. On that note, he slammed
his cock into her defenceless mouth and began face-fucking her as hard
as he could, using her ears as leverage.

Skye was still getting used to the sensation of Mr Hanson's balls
bouncing against her chin, when she felt something else press between
her abused ass cheeks. "Hmm. You told me she would be tighter than this"
bemoaned Mr Tarasov as he entered the shemale's back passage. In-between
views of Mr Hanson's pubic region, Skye caught the sight of Vlad
grinning the grin of a man who had just found out that he has a bigger
cock than his boss.

The trolley shunted back and forth under the exertions of both men as
Skye suffered the worst in-flight turbulence ever recorded. In-between
getting her brains fucked out, she felt the sensation of rope being tied
round her legs and arms and before she knew what was happening, all four
limbs were tied securely to opposing chair arms.

"Now, I know four into two holes doesn't go," explained Randy. "Which is
why I've left your hands free enough that you can give the two extra
guys a hand-job while they wait their turn."

How thoughtful. Vlad and Randy moved into position and both started
receiving hand-jobs as Skye rocked back and forth on her pedestal.
Hanson was first to cum - splurging his load all over Skye's shocked
face - and when Tarasov followed suit moments later, they all moved
clockwise and the process began over.

This went on for what seemed like hours. Perhaps it was. The last thing
Skye remembered was taking Vlad's load in her mouth as Michelle's
orgasmic screams rang out loud and clear over the tannoy. Finally, he
came for the last time down her throat, and the 'no-smoking' sign went
out as Vlad wiped his cock clean on her useless latex dress. Shortly
after that, she blacked-out.

-------------------------------------------

When Skye came too, she found it hard to see through the river of cum
and mascara that now covered her face, but she was with it enough to
know that her arms had been hogtied to her heels with her own
neckerchief, and that her original ballgag was now back in place.

"One hour until arrival" spoke Michelle over the announce system.
"Please prepare cabin crew for landing"

"Well, I'd better get back to assist Captain McLaren in the cockpit"
announced Randy. "But before I love you and leave you, Miss Blue, I've
got a present for you"

Great, thought Skye sarcastically.

"Now, I know this entire situation hasn't turned out great for you.
You're probably feeling quite bitter, feeling that it was unfair that
we've stolen your identity and left absolutely no trace of your former
self. Surely the famous pilot Ace McLaren deserves some kind of lasting
memorial to his greatness. Wouldn't you agree, Skye? One 'mmmph' for
yes, two for no"

"Mmmph"

"I thought you'd say that. That's why we've taken the liberty of, ahem,
re-appropriating the Award for Exceptional Services to Aviation trophy
you won last year. Behold!"

Randy wiped some of the cum away from Skye's eyes with a tissue, and she
looked in horror at the sight in front of her. They had remoulded her
cherished trophy into the biggest dildo she had ever seen! It was about
twice the girth of even Vlad's monstrous organ!

"Take a look at the inscribing on the side, Skye!" It read, simply: 'Ace
McLaren. The biggest prick on the planet'

"Do you like it, Skye?"

"Mmmph! Mmmph!"

"Two yeses.  I thought as much. Now, you're to wear this at all times,
Skye! Vlad, could you do the honours?"

Skye screamed as best she could through the gag as the entire nine-inch
gold-plated monster entered her ruined backside.

"Won't this set off the security alarms?" enquired Mr Hanson.

"Probably, yes. But don't worry - we have some pretty understanding
security check-in staff!"

The room boomed with mocking laughter as Vlad picked up the hog-tied
hostess and deposited her into one of the overhead lockers for safe
keeping. The door slammed shut and all she could do now was listen.

"Don't worry, we'll spray her down using one of the hoses they use to
clean the jet intakes, then she'll be good to go for the wedding"
assured Mr Hanson.

The talk continued, but Skye decided to zone out. Instead, she closed
her eyes and attempted to catch some much needed rest. She had a dream
to finish, and it was still an hour until landing.

And what a dream it was going to be! Michelle was totally going to get
fucked. No-one could stop him this time around. He was truly the lord of
the skies. He was Ace.

END OF STORY.