Guard Duty
- 2 years ago
- 23
- 0
Guard Duty free porn video
Guard Duty
By Cal Y. Pygia
Susan Denton was apprehensive as she approached the airport
security station. She didn't like having to set her purse on
the black conveyor belt that transported it - and the
personal effects it contained - through the X-ray machine
that rendered ghost images of her personal effects. On one
occasion, the machine had showed the spectral outline of a
phallic-shaped dildo. She was still embarrassed whenever she
thought of the incident. Sure, lots of women carried dildos
in their purses or luggage, along with tampons or sanitary
napkins and other feminine needs, but seldom were such
contents revealed to security guards and other onlookers in
a busy international airport.
The episode had been sufficiently humiliating to make a
long-term impression upon Susan, and she made damned sure
that she wasn't carrying a dildo in her purse or luggage
whenever she flew or might otherwise have occasion to pass
through a security station. Unfortunately, as a submissive
she'd not had the luxury of disobeying her mistress, Madame
Sharon, who'd insisted she wear the ring through her
genitals and take her chances as to whether the metallic
loop would set off the airport's security alarm. No doubt,
Madame was delighted at the chagrin that Susan felt as she
contemplated the possibility that the ring would set off the
alarm. Just the thought that such an incident might occur
was enough to redden Susan's face. She felt weak in the
knees, too, and her stomach felt queasy and full of
butterflies. Nevertheless, sick at heart as she felt, Susan
took her place in the slowly moving file of men, women, and
children who walked through the metal detector. All too
soon, she stood before the arched frame beside the conveyor
belt. A female security guard nodded to her. "Step through,
please."
Susan swallowed. Please don't let the damned alarm go off,
she prayed. She stepped forward. Immediately, a shrill,
shrieking siren sounded. The security guard instructed
Susan to place her purse on the conveyor belt. Susan did as
she was told. "Walk through again," the guard ordered as she
reset the alarm. Susan followed the guard's instruction,
and the alarm shrieked again. "Do you have anything metal
on your person?" the guard asked. Susan couldn't bring
herself to mention the ring through her genitals. She shook
her head. "No belt buckle or cigarette lighter or watch?"
the guard inquired. "No."
The guard reset the alarm. "Try again."
Once more, the alarm sounded. The guard held an open hand
toward Susan. "I'm afraid you'll have to come with me."
Susan stepped toward the guard, and the sentinel's hand
closed upon Susan's bicep. "Where are we going?" Susan
asked. "Come with me," the guard answered. She led Susan
to a small, well lit room, containing only a few wall
lockers, a small table, and two straight-backed chair,
closing the door behind them. She regarded Susan
impassively as she advised her, "I'm going to have to strip
search you."
Susan's eyes widened. Her mouth gaped. "What?"
"Take off your clothes, please, starting with your blouse."
Susan was not an aggressive or assertive woman. There was
nothing forceful about her; instead, she was submissive,
acquiescent, compliant. Years of physical abuse at the hands
of her father and years of sexual and physical abuse at the
hands of Madame Sharon had made her as pliable and supple as
a mindless willow branch. She wanted only to please others,
especially her mistress, no matter the pain or the misery or
the distress she might have to endure to do so.
Without a word of protest, with her eyes downcast, she did
as she'd been commanded, unbuttoning the silk lavender
blouse, pulling first one arm and then the other from its
respective long sleeve, and draping the expensive item over
the back of a chair. "Now the bra," the guard ordered.
Dutifully, Susan reached behind her back, unfastened the
clasp, and shrugged out of the garment, hanging it on the
back of the chair, with the blouse. She blushed as she saw
the guard stare lustfully at her perfect, high, round
breasts. The small room was chilly, and the cold
temperature, as well as the guard's ogling gaze, made
Susan's nipples stiffen within the center of her puffy
areolas.
"You have beautiful breasts," the guard declared. Another
woman might have been outraged by such a comment, but Susan
had been conditioned to accept such observations as
compliments.
"Thank you," she replied.
"Do you mind if I touch them?" the guard asked. Susan had
also been conditioned to accept her mistress' - or any other
woman's - caresses. She shook her head, to indicate her
willingness to have her breasts handled. The guard's
reaching hands opened. The long, slender fingers closed upon
the velvet-smooth, creamy globes, squeezing Susan's breasts
several times. Susan felt her nipples, already erect,
further stiffen and swell. A small, helpless moan escaped
her parted lips.
"You like that?"
Susan nodded. She'd been trained to enjoy being treated as
an object of others' amusement and pleasure. The guard
bent, taking one of Susan's swollen nipples between her
lips, sucking at the teat. For a long moment, she nursed at
the magnificent breast, pausing to lick the swollen bud from
time to time. Another small moan escaped Susan's lips. The
guard smiled up at her, transferring her mouth to Susan's
other breast. She suckled the second nipple, licking and
squeezing it. After she'd enjoyed herself in this fashion
for several minutes, she stood erect again.
"Now, the skirt, stockings, and panties," she ordered.
Susan gulped. Tears filled her eyes, one wandering down her
cheek. She wanted to argue, but she dared not. The impulse
to assert herself or to defy authority had long ago been
beaten out of her. She stepped out of her high-heeled shoes.
She unzipped her skirt. Her thumbs hooked in the sides of
its waistband, and she lowered the skirt past her sleek
thighs and dimpled knees and down her calves, stepping out
of the item of apparel. She didn't bother to hang it atop
the discarded blouse and brassiere. She let it lie on the
floor. Now, she wore only her panties and stockings. She
swallowed again, realizing how little clothing remained
before she'd been completely naked, her entire body exposed
to the guard's ogling gaze. She unfastened her garter belts
and slid the stockings down, over her bare legs, standing
first on one foot and then the other as she pulled the
hosiery from her feet. All she wore were her thong panties,
which meant that her smooth, creamy buttocks were now also
on view. At last, she surprised herself, finding courage
enough to plead with the guard.
"Please," she murmured, "don't make me remove my panties,
too."
"Sorry," the guard replied, "but, for all I know, you could
have a grenade hidden inside your cunt."
Cunt! Susan knew that she should be offended, even outraged,
by the guard's use of the obscene term to describe her
genitals. No self-respecting woman would have tolerated the
use of such an expression. However, Susan had lost all self-
respect years ago. She trembled with shame, but she did not
protest; she did not refuse to comply with the guard's
order. Her face burning with humiliation, she tugged the
flimsy panties down, scooting them over her creamy thighs,
past her knees, and down her calves, stepping out of the
underwear to let them lie on the floor beside her discarded
skirt and stockings.
"What the hell?" the guard cried, her eyes and mouth opened
wide and her tone of voice pregnant with disbelief. Susan
winced. She'd heard such surprise, such shock, before.
Usually, it preceded violence. "You're not a woman," the
guard proclaimed, accusingly. "You're a? a? I don' t know
what! A freak! A goddamned freak!"
"I'm a transsexual," Susan whispered.
"A what?" the guard thundered.
"A shemale - you know, a chick with a dick."
"A chick with a dick?" the guard repeated, sounding
offended. "Chicks don't have dicks, mister! You have a cock,
and you have balls - that makes you a man."
Not only did Susan have male genitals, but her manhood was
pierced. At Madame Sharon's insistence, Susan wore a thick
silver ring through that looped through the glans, or head,
of her penis. It was this adornment that had set off the
metal detector.
"I'm a transsexual," Susan repeated, her voice soft.
"You want to be a woman? Is that it? You a cross dresser?"
"No, I am a woman," Susan explained, "trapped in a man's
body." It seemed unlikely to her that the guard had never
heard of the condition. Maybe she's merely feigning
ignorance, the better to fuck with me, Susan thought. The
transsexual felt as if she'd burst into tears at any moment.
The guard laughed, but there was no merriment in the sound.
It was cruel. Heartless. "There ain't no such animal."
"Please," Susan begged, "let me go. I'm not carrying
anything dangerous. I'm harmless. I'm just a passenger,
trying?"
"Shut up!"
Susan silenced herself. "You want to be a woman? Get down
on your hands and knees, bitch!"
Susan whimpered. "Please?"
"NOW!"
Susan sank to her knees. She let her upper body fall
forward, catching her weight upon her outspread palms. The
guard removed the baton from the holster belted to her side.
She pointed the thick end of the club against the cleavage
dividing the sleek mounds of her round derriere. The
division between Susan's buttocks indented, and the
passenger squirmed. The guard shoved the baton harder, and
its thick end pressed into the part between the writhing
passenger's ass. The baton traced the cleavage, sliding down
to rest against the back of Susan's scrotum. There it
rested a moment, and then Susan felt the heavy, blunt end of
the club fall away from her.
"Maybe I should stick this baton up your ass," the guard
threatened.
"Please, no!" Susan protested.
The club struck a savage blow, flattening the cheeks of
Susan's bottom. The naked passenger screamed.
"I think I will fuck you," the guard declared.
Susan whimpered. She wanted to protest again, but she dared
not. Her ass stung from the blow of the baton, and she had
no doubt that the guard would not hesitate to rain down
several more, even harder blows, just as Madame Sharon was
wont to do whenever Susan forgot herself and voiced a
complaint or an objection. She bit her lips, while warm
tears streamed down her face. If the guard rammed the baton
up her ass, the weapon could well rip her entrails. Susan
could bleed to death from the injuries.
Susan heard the guard's footsteps as she crossed the room.
In a few moments, she heard the creak of metal hinges as the
guard opened a wall locker. Inside, there was a ten-inch-
long strap-on dildo and a jar of lubricant. There were
other items inside the locker, too? handcuffs, whips,
chains, chastity belts, branding irons. Returning to her
victim, the guard strapped on the dildo, lubricated the
phallus, and greased Susan's anus. Kneeling behind the
passenger, the guard guided the head of the artificial penis
into the circle of Susan's sphincter. She pressed forward
with her hips, shoving the monstrous false cock through the
tight anal ring and into Susan's rectum. The impaled anus
fluttered frantically about the dildo, as if it were making
a valiant, albeit vain, effort to dislodge the trespassing
phallus.
"You have a lovely ass," the guard said, as she worked the
ten-inch-long dildo back and forth inside Susan's buttocks,
watching the false penis vanish and reappear within the
speared anus. Susan whimpered. Her eyes were shut tightly,
but not tightly enough to prevent the spill of tears down
her face or quench the anger, humiliation, and pain that
welled within her. For twenty minutes, the guard fucked
her, shoving the dildo deep into her ass before withdrawing
it until only an inch remained within her rectum and
plunging the phallus home again, until her pubes rasped
against the sleek curves of Susan's skewered buttocks.
When the guard tired, she rested, with the massive
artificial cock buried inside Susan's bottom. Then, her
strength renewed, the guard drove the massive dildo into the
depths of Susan's bowels again. When she pulled the false
organ completely out of Susan's ass, the guard slapped the
passenger's bottom, leaving a red handprint in the ivory
flesh. Susan leaped before the blow, receiving another,
harder smack by way of reprimand. "You may get dressed,"
the guard told her, "but leave the bra and panties off."
As Susan donned her blouse, stockings, skirt, and shoes, the
guard put away the dildo and the lubricant, until she had
need if them again.
"Where are you traveling?" the guard demanded.
"To see my mistress, Madame Sharon," Susan replied.
"Does she treat you well or beat you?"
"Both."
"Are you an obedient slave?"
"Yes, ma'am."
The guard gave Susan an appraising look. "I'll bet you are,"
she said. "How long will you be gone?"
"A week."
"And how will you be returning home?"
"My mistress has already booked a return flight."
"How thoughtful. So, you'll be flying in to this airport?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'll be waiting," the guard said. She looked Susan up and
down. "You may go."
Susan wasted no time in leaving. The guard smiled as she
watched Susan's firm, round ass sway in the tight skirt she
wore. Next time, the guard told herself, she'd use the
twelve-inch strap-on and give this shemale bitch a fucking
she'd long remember. From now on, whenever Susan the Slut
flew in or out of this airport, she'd have a second mistress
- one even more vicious and demanding than Madame Sharon.
The guard thought, Maybe, next time, she'd make this chick
with a dick eat her pussy after she fucked her. In fact,
maybe she'd make her eat her pussy before and after she
fucked her! She smiled to herself as she slid her baton back
into the holster on her hip.
Whistling, Susan's new mistress returned to her station, to
resume guard duty.
Makenna
- 29.12.2022
- 26
- 0
