Flight Instruction
This story contains violent or sexually explicit material and should be read by
adults only.
Part II
I returned to my seat as if in a dream, cock forced downwards by her
panties and ass aflutter because of the intense vibrations coming from
the buttplug. I couldn't believe what just happened-or happening. I
had gone from taking a routine flight to being molested in the bathroom
of an airplane, forced to eat this stranger's pussy, wear her panties
and suffer the pleasurable discomfort of a plastic vibrating intrusion
in my ass. I sat down, pressing the plug deeper into my ass. Junko
made the rounds through the cabin, ensuring that all seats and tables
were in the upright position. And buckled my seatbelt again, too
tightly of course.
We landed a few minutes later and my mind turned to the more mundane
aspects of travel, like dealing with suitcases and immigration. Junko
had disappeared, leaving me wondering even more about what had happened
on the plane- I just wanted to get to my hotel, remove the buttplug and
jerk off. I found myself in the customs line, still walking a little
bowlegged from the buttplug and with my cock still tenting up in my
pants. I kept my erection covered with my carry-on bad and wheeled my
suitcase behind me. I was next in line. "Please step forward." She
looked at me hard through her steel-rimmed glasses as I stood in front
of her counter. "Anything to declare?" Oh shit, the magazines what the
hell am I gonna do? "N-n-no, nothing", I said a little too slowly.
"Bags on the counter." I held the carry-on still, not wanting to
display myself. "All bags", came the quiet command. My carry-on
followed and I could swear she was staring right at my crotch. I
started sweating a little, but looked away, trying to remain calm. Her
delicate but obviously strong hands started going through the suitcase,
searching thoroughly. Then she opened the carry-on and I knew I was
fucked. Out came the paper bag containing the magazines and then out
came the mags themselves. Her efficient hands stopped. She looked
right at me. I tried to look away, but her eyes commanded my
attention. She started to flip through uncensored pictures of women
spanking men, men trussed up in tight leather with hoods, girls peeing
on men's faces, dominas with tight smiles buggering men with strap-ons,
pausing at the more heinous offenses to her moral code. I was
mortified. Never in my life had I felt so small or wanted to flee so
badly. The vibrator in my ass started to feel like a jackhammer. The
customs officer finished flipping through the magazines, I started to
try to explain, "I didn't" "Quiet", she cut me off, "You are in
possession of numerous pornographic materials that violate my country's
censorship laws." Her voice was quiet, melodic, and completely in
control. "Follow me." With that she flipped down a barrier behind me
and stepped out of her booth, nodding at two customs officers who were
standing about thirty yards away. Not knowing what to do exactly, I
picked up my bags and followed her down a narrow hallway, with the two
additional officers trailing behind. She opened a door to a small room
and motioned me in; the two escorts turned to go back to their
stations. I walked in, put my bags down and waited while she locked the
door and marched to the other side of the room, seating herself behind a
desk. She motioned to the chair in front of her. I sat down with a
sharp inhale as the buttplug jammed deep into my ass. What a mess. I
looked around the interrogation room- the long desk, two chairs, a waist
high padded table, and a small porcelain sink in the corner.
"It is not often that we deal with foreign pornographers- our country
has many forms of thisEarbage, but their product is of a censored
variety". Her English was clipped, precise, slightly inflected. "I am
not a pornographer" A hand movement silenced my explanation. "You
have imported at least ten examples of items that violate very strict
laws of my country. This is a serious offense." I stayed quiet.
"Passport, please." I handed her my passport. She flipped through the
country stamps and simply said, "Good, Mr. Baum. Now let us see what
other items you have in your possession. Stand up and strip." The
whole situation was going to go from bad to worse. There was no way to
explain away the women's panties or the vibrating buttplug. I sat there
weighing the consequences. "There are two ways we do this- you
cooperate or I get those two officers in here to help you cooperate".
The moment of truth- strip in front of this woman alone or in the
presence of two more uniformed, armed guards. Christ. I stood. I
first slid my shoes off and put them on the desk where she motioned them
to be placed. I then took my jacket and shirt off and put them down to
be examined by my captor. And I froze. She looked sharply at me,
removed her visored cap and her glasses and shook her long hair down. I
then realized how gorgeous she was and how her beauty made this moment
even more poignant and horrifying. She smiled a thin smile. A cruel
smile. An expression of absolute control, not humor. "I will ask you
once more and then the pleasantries will cease. My colleagues are not
possessed of the same, how do you say tolerance, as I am. Your pants."
I unbuckled my trousers and slid them slowly down, dying inside as I
revealed the sheer panties. Silence reigned. She stared at me, "Well,
well. I must say that I am surprised." I turned red. "Nice
underwear or are those women's panties?" I couldn't look up for I knew
it was going to get worse before it got better. My erection stood even
taller, despite or maybe because of my humiliation. "What is that
sound?" My pants had been dampening the vibrations of the buttplug,
which was now buzzing freely, seeming to fill the quiet room with
noise. There was nothing in this world that I could say to ease my
mortification or lessen my sense of guilt. "Hmmm? What is that sound?"
Silence, working through any explanation that would seem plausible.
"Well, I have no more patience for you. I will get the others." She
stood up. "No, please", I begged, "I can explain". "Really?" "I met a
woman on the plane and she forced me to do things and then put this
machine in my bottom" How much more lame an answer could I come up
with? "Machine? Really- let me see." She stepped out from behind the
desk and pushed me over the padded table. "Hands on the table", she
commanded. Quickly and efficiently did I find my hands attached to the
other end of the table with leather cuffs that she obviously had ready.
My upper body was stretched across this padded table in sheer white
panties, hard cock pressing against the vinyl padding, buttplug
vibrating away, trembling, wondering what the hell was going to happen
next. I didn't have to wait long. The customs officer took a knife and
cut through the knots on the panties, dropping them to the floor. And
started to laugh. "Oh my- look at 'the machine' in your butt. Are you
gay? Is that why you have a buttplug in your ass and you're wearing
panties like a little girl?" Pushed to my limits I started to tear up,
quiet. "Are you going to cry little girl?" My chest started to heave
with sobs- the tension was too much for me. "Be quiet- your tears are
annoying me." For the life of me I couldn't stop- I was so worked
up-aroused, scared, humiliated, excited, terrified-the contrasting
emotions just broke a dam within me. "If you're not going to be quiet,
I will shut you up." With that my tormentor took the panties, a little
sticky from my precum and stiff with Junko's juices and held them in
front of my face, dangling them. "Open wide." I couldn't. Not like
this. She held my nose and since I was still weeping a little my mouth
flew open, gasping for air. But instead of air I got a mouthful of
panties. She pushed them in deep, filling my throat. "Don't spit them
out or you will be sorry." I knew my place, sobbing through the sheer
fragrant material. Behind me I could hear her slide her shoes off and
then her nylons. She wrapped her nylons around my mouth and tied them
into place. "There. That will keep you quiet". She stepped in close
and I could feel the brass buttons of her uniform pressing against my
bare skin. She started stroking my hair and whispered, "Now you will
please me. Or I will throw you in jail to be fucked in the ass by a
gang of African drug smugglers until they deport you." I could only
jerk against my bonds, realizing the precariousness of my situation.
"You will do everything I ask, no hesitations, won't you?" I nodded, my
eyes filled with tears. "Good. Now let me see this 'machine'". With
no further warning, she yanked the buttplug out of my ass. I felt this
gaping hole and cool air rush around the void. I could hear her turn,
drop the plug into a trash can and then open a drawer. She moved around
for a bit and I couldn't make out what she was doing. The next sound I
heard was the snap of a rubber glove. "Well, well, I just want you to
relax." She stood next to the table in front of me, my eyes wide with
uncertainty. Her uniform jacket was now off and she was standing in her
heels, no skirt, only black plastic looking panties. Her blouse was
tied at her waist, unbuttoned to reveal her cleavage, nipples taut
through the material. One hand was covered by a long examination
glove. Her other hand was squeezing lube from a tube all over the
glove. "You might be carrying otherEontraband." She moved behind me
and quickly slid a finger in. My ass took it easily- the stretching it
suffered from the buttplug served me well. Another finger followed.
And a third. I whimpered. "Don't tell me that's too much for a big
girl like you," she cooed. She rotated her wrist around, coating the
inside of my rectum with the lube, stretching out my sphincter. Her
hand started to move back and forth and the waves of pleasure began.
"You like it, don't you?" No response from me. A quick deep stab into
my ass, "Don't you?" I nodded. "I knew you would. 'Cause my friend
told me about you." With that the door swung open and there was no
doubt as to who it was.
To be continued ....
