In-Flight Entertainment: Part Three free porn video

In-Flight Entertainment Part Three By Alyssa Hyatt www.makingmaidens.blogspot.com Skye Blue knew very well that littering was an instant demerit. The last (and only) time she got caught, her penance was to spend her next day off rooting around Victoria Park's many rubbish bins for a single used condom that had been planted by Michelle's boyfriend earlier in the day. The prize waiting inside? Her front door key. It turned out to be a late night for the bedraggled flight attendant, even with all the male passers-by who volunteered their help. But right at this moment, a possible repeat of that mortifying experience barely registered in Skye's tiny bimbo mind. She was too shook up by the sight of her wife standing before her, in full regal pilot regalia, to think of anything else. Or to address Michelle in a manner befitting her lowly station as an air hostess, it seemed. "M-Michelle!" she stammered. "W-what the fuck are you doing here?" Instantly realising her mistake, she clamped her manicured hands over her mouth the second the question mark left her collagen-enhanced lips. Michelle's face turned to stone. Before Skye could squeak out a pathetic apology, Michelle shot her arm into the depths of her husband's bra and twisted her right nipple as far as it would possibly turn, causing Skye to shriek in agony and dance a hilarious little jig on the spot. The other Layover hostesses burst into fits of laughter from the other side of the room. "You will address me," spat Michelle behind gritted teeth, "with the proper respect." She twisted Skye's nipple just a few degrees more, causing the dance to quicken. "Do you understand what I am telling you, airhead?" "Aargh - yes, Madam, I understand," she wailed. "Please forgive my stupidity Madam, for I am just a dumb trolley dolly - no good for anything other than looking pretty and pouring cups of coffee!" "Don't forget cocksucking" Michelle added spitefully, tweaking the nipple with such force that it caused Skye's other tit to pop out of its satin encasing. Cue more giggling for Skye's Layover sisters. Finally, she released her deathgrip on the teat and soaked in her husband's humiliation with regalement as Skye frantically blew on her red raw udder in an attempt to stem the pain. The extreme hormonal regime had made those big ol' tits of hers incredibly sensitive, Michelle observed to herself. "I trust now we've heard enough insolence from you?" asked Michelle, although the intonation suggested it was no question. In-between sobs, Skye indicated that they had. Michelle gave her sissified spouse a moment's peace to stuff her funbags back in their playpen, before getting to the meat of the matter. "Look at me, Skye," commanded Michelle. She obeyed. Although Skye towered over her wife by almost seven inches in her heels, she felt so tiny in comparison. "You seem surprised to see me in a pilot's uniform, my dear. But you really shouldn't be. You do remember our first date, do you not?" Michelle bit her lip as a brief flash of hurt shot through her, before continuing: "And how you lied to me to get me in bed with you?" Skye's baby blue eyes fell to the floor in shame as she took a trip down memory lane. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Ace had met his future wife as a passenger on an Imperial Airlines flight between London and Miami several years ago. Michelle was looking after the first class compartment of the cabin at the time. As an aspiring pilot, it wasn't her first choice of career, but scholarships were expensive so she'd resigned herself to a few year's graft in an undesirable profession to pay for it. She figured getting a job as a flight attendant would be as wise a choice as any, because it would allow her to sample for herself what the long hours and time away from family would be like. Plus, it presented invaluable networking opportunities. But on this particular flight, Michelle was wishing she'd taken her mother's advice and became a vet. The cabin was stuffy, her bright red stewardess' uniform tight, chaffing and restrictive, and her feet worn out from endlessly pivoting up and down the aisle dealing with every last obnoxious request from some of the rudest men she'd ever encountered in her life. And the worst of the bunch was a young man sat right at the front of the section. Michelle had just about managed to forget about him when his help light flashed on for the umpteenth time. She sighed, put down the rubbish bag she was empting, and went to attend to his needs. "It's a good job he's cute," she thought to herself. "Or else I'd have to throttle him." "Hey doll, what kept ya?" slurred the man upon her arrival. "I dropped my bag of peanuts. Could you pick it up for me, kitten?" Michelle looked across to see said bag lying peacefully in the centre aisle, perhaps no more than eight feet away from the gentleman's seat. She exhaled irritably at this needless intrusion into her working day but managed to retain her sunny disposition. "No problem, Sir." She bent over as far as her tight skirt would allow, and that's when the man's masterplan came together. He delivered a sharp pinch right on the hostesses' rear end, causing her to yelp in pain. She turned round sharply to admonish the grinning chauvinist, who was showing little remorse for his crime. "Sir,," she spoke calmly but firmly, "the Cabin Crew aren't your personal playthings. We're here to assist the pilot and ensure the safety of the passengers, and your unnecessary distractions are prevent-" "Oh hush, sweetheart. Believe me, this plane will get to its destination regardless of whether you rush around like chambermaid on crack, or spend the rest of the flight powdering your nose in the toilet" He paused to sip his beer, before slipping in not so subtly: "Believe me, I'm a pilot myself." She was busy re-assessing her decision not to throttle him when the final sentence pricked her ears up. "You're a pilot, Sir?" "Only the best in the world, honey. I fly for Europa Airways." Europa Airways! They were the biggest commercial airline in the world. Not even Imperial Airlines, with all their wealthy Russian benefactors, could compete with Europa. Only the very best pilots could hope to find gainful employment with them. Michelle saw networking potential. "I...I'm hoping to be a pilot one day, Sir. Once I've saved up enough money..." He smirked inwardly at the thought of it, but his outward demeanour gave her a little more hope. "You're a bit too pretty to be a pilot, aren't you?" he asked, his seductive brown eyes gleaming. Her face turned as red as her blazer. "But I see potential in you, sweet tush. Europa could do with an up-and- comer like you in their ranks." Ever the master orator, he paused for dramatic effect and pretended to mull something that was on the tip of his tongue. "Now I think about it, they do give out bursaries for talented youngsters. It won't be as easy as me clicking my fingers, but I might be able to pull some strings." 'He'd do that for me?', thought Michelle. Perhaps this guy wasn't such a jerk after all. "That's really kind of you to offer, Sir, but..." "You can call me 'Ace', dollface. Why don't you come into my, ahem, 'office' and we'll discuss your prospects in more detail?" he suggested, pulling her down forcefully into his lap and closing the curtains to block out the prying eyes of the elderly couple across the gangway. Michelle swivelled round to face him, her legs straddling his. It was hard to miss the bulge in his trousers - you could probably see it from the ground. Ace reached behind his new-found playmate and pulled out her hair clip, causing her long mane of jet-black hair to tumble down her back. Then, his strong arms began to gruffly explore her curves. Michelle hesitated for a second, but offered no resistance. She wasn't that kind of girl normally, but she really needed that bursary and ehhh, he WAS kind of cute. He expertly unhooked her bra with a single flick of his hand and from there, the negotiations began. A harsh slap to the cheek brought Skye back to the present day. "But the bursary never came, did it, 'Ace'? Against all the odds I fell in love with you, thinking I was your one and only and that you wanted to help me out - but you didn't have any intention of doing that, did you? No, I found out much too late that you were too much of a misogynistic pig to ever allow your wife to get above her station in life." Michelle slapped her husband again, before any excuses could dribble out of her ruby red mouth. "When we married, it was like you thought you owned me. You halted my pilot training, ordered me not to cut my hair and banned me from wearing anything other than skirts or dresses. Even in Winter! Well!" Her voice was hoarse now with pure hatred. "Look who wears the trousers in our relationship now!" Embarrassed by the reminder, Skye instinctively fiddled with the hem of her latex mini-dress. There was no doubt who was the power-dresser of the couple now. If clothes maketh the man then they also maketh the woman, and the woman Ace McLaren had become was straight out of a cheap porn flick. A third slap rang out, leaving Skye on the verge of tears. "But I'm sure you secretly wanted me to continue on with my training, didn't you, dear hubbie? You just never got round to pulling those strings in-between pulling on all those sluts' g-strings. That's why I took the liberty of restarting my course with the money you had saved in that off-shore account. You know, the one that you never got round to telling me about." Skye's eyes expanded as wide as saucers. "Oh...oh, poo!" she uttered in total panic. Shit! Michelle found out about that? That was his contingency plan! As soon as this demented woman got bored of ruining his life and allowed him to be a man again, he intended to rush straight to his guys and withdraw the several thousands of pounds he had saved. Not a fortune compared to what he once was worth, but enough to get him back on his feet again. But now he was completely broke! As poor as a church mouse! He wouldn't even have enough to buy a pair of trousers! "Now I think about it, you didn't get round to a lot of things, did you, Miss Blue? Perhaps I won't get round to removing these," teased Michelle, slapping the underside of Skye's udders with such ferocity that they sprung out of their confines once more and struck the stewardess on her dimpled chin. Michelle was merely playing with her food here. She had no intention of letting Skye go back to her former life. After a decade or so after she'd outlived her shelf life as a sky high prostitute, she'd decided she would probably sell Skye off to Pam, or someone. Whoever had the most sadistic plan going forward. Perhaps she'd hold interviews. Ace had made a lot of enemies in his short time on Earth, so it was going to be a seriously competitive bracket of entrants. But as wet as all this tormenting was making her, Michelle realised that it was important to keep that tiny carrot affixed to the end of that enormous stick if she was to keep her servant girl onside, so she changed the subject. "Oh, by the way dear, do you like my new haircut?" She removed her pilot's cap, revealing her new short pixie hair cut. Just a few months ago, Ace would have had her over his knee for daring to have such an unfeminine 'do, but now she was willing to tell this crazy bitch whatever she wanted to hear, just to avoid further punishment. "It's very beautiful, Madam. I love it!" she lied. "Hmpf. I was going more for handsome, but that'll do." She pulled out a packet of peanuts that had apparently been resting in her hat and dropped them symbolically in front of her. She gave Skye a nasty leer. "Pick them up, kitten." Neither the symmetry nor the poignancy of the moment was not lost on Skye. She gulped and then bent down at the waist, once more exposing her panties to the world. The tip of her inch long nails had just about brushed past the packet when she heard an ear-shattering CRACK, followed by a searing pain on her bubble butt. The force of the blow was enough to rocket her forwards, her bulbous breasts breaking her fall like airbags. Tears trickled down Skye's beautifully re-sculpted face as she gingerly picked herself back up to her feet. Although she could feel her wife burning a hole in the back of her head with her gaze, she was reluctant to turn around and let her see that she'd been crying. There was still some residue male pride in that oestrogen-ravaged body of hers. Eventually however, Michelle grew tired of waiting for her toy to compose herself and pushed the issue. "What do you say, Skye?" "Th-thank you for punishing me, Madam." "Oh, it wasn't me, blossom. Meet my co-pilot, who'll be mentoring me on my first flight. I believe you've already met." Skye turned round apprehensively and the sight that greeted her gave her the third (or was it fourth?) heart attack of the day - and it was only half past nine! There standing next to her estranged wife, wielding a riding crop was her former arch-nemesis, an insufferably camp man named Randy McCloud. He worked for Imperial Airlines, and truth be told, was probably a better pilot than Ace ever was, but Ace used to pull his political weight to keep Randy's reputation in check. The airline industry was still a pretty homophobic one at the top and Ace knew how to turn that to his advantage. Seven consecutive 'Pilot Of The Year' awards were testament to that. "Well, don't just stand there staring hungrily at his crotch, Skye. Dip your wings in deference to the the 2011 Pilot Of The Year!" And with that, the blonde performed a soul-crushing curtsey, and the last Y chromosome turned off the lights. --------------------------------------------- As a rare treat, Randy and Michelle allowed Skye to stay in the cockpit during the pre-flight preparations - a real honour for a lowly bimbo stewardess such as herself! The only concession was that Skye had to make herself useful whilst the pilots talked through their grown-up stuff, and Michelle had just the job for her. As Randy ran through the take-off protocol one last time, Skye found herself on her knees in the space underneath the flight deck, enthusiastically slurping and sucking away at her former professional rival's dick like it was a chocolate- coated banana. "It's good to see you two getting on so well, Randy" remarked Michelle. " Ace used to bitch and moan about you all the time when he got home from work, but it seems he had a soft spot for you all along." "Well, 'Chelle, hun, you know what they say: girls will gossip" "Ha ha! That they do. I guess my macho husband was always a bit of a sissy deep down! Good job I was around to help you unlock your girlish potential really, wasn't it Ace? "Yrrrth Mrrrdrrrm. Thrrrnk yrrr frrr trrrrning mrrr intrrr r srssy!" With practice, Skye had become a skilled cocksucker, but she had yet to master the ability to speak coherently whilst an erect penis was thrusting into her mouth like a piston. Nonetheless, the rest of her performance was to Randy's satisfaction. Her blow job technique was flawless. In-between slurps, she'd expertly run her tongue up and down his shaft, keeping him on the brink of orgasm, just as she'd been trained. Ace had always been a quick learner, and it was a trait that continued to serve him well in his new life. Skye was as skilled a sex worker as Ace had been an aviator. Randy let out a satisfied grunt. "Oh, she IS good, Chelle. You were right about that! As an admirer of the male form, I can't say Ace's new look is entirely to my liking, but this new attitude of hers is a definite upgrade!" "Did you hear that, Skye? The nice man paid you a compliment. Show your gratitude!" "Thrrnk yrrr, Mrrr MrrrrClrrrd" Michelle watched in silent satisfaction for a moment as Skye's blonde tresses bobbed up and down violently between Randy's legs. Such an eager BJ Queen! She was sucking off that thing like her life depended on it. Perhaps she thought it did. The sight of her husband's oral desecration was capped, literally, by the oversized pilot's hat that constantly slipped down past Skye's eyes as she licked and sucked on Randy's flight instrument. It made her look like a silly little girl who was playing at being a pilot. "Oh god, she's VERY good, Michelle," Randy panted. "With a mouth like that, are you sure she's single?" "Heh. Well, she was married once, but that pretty mouth of hers got her into a spot of bother. Why do you ask, are you interested? Maybe I can set you two up. I think it's about time Skye went steady." " Wrrrrrrt?" Randy ignored Skye's contribution to the conversation. "Well, shemales aren't usually my bag, but I could do with a beard, especially with all these public appearances I'm going to have to make now I'm the number one pilot in the world." He stopped to let out a gratified moan. "Plus, I could get used to having blow jobs like this on tap! What do you say we head out to Soho next Friday, Skye? I think we have a spare Imperial Airlines uniform that's just your size" "Buuhhht..." "She'd be delighted, I'm sure," interjected Michelle on Skye's behalf. "Isn't this exciting, Skye? You have a new boyfriend! Perhaps there will even be wedding bells in the air if you play your cards right" "Imagine Ace as a blushing bride!" laughed Randy. "Mincing down the aisle as she prepares to become Mrs Randy McCloud!" "How humiliating would that be," pondered Michelle out loud. "To be forced to love, honour and obey your worst enemy!" This had gone far enough! Skye loosened her lips from around Randy's member and worked up the courage to tell her two tormentors than in no uncertain terms, that she didn't want to go on a date with him. But what terrible timing! She got as far as "I do-" before a thick sea of hot spunk spurted down the back of her throat, leaving her gagging on the floor. "She said 'I do' already!" Michelle howled with amusement. "Control your ovaries, woman! You're not at the altar yet!" ----------------------------------------------------- Finally, the passengers were aboard and the flight was scheduled to take-off. Skye Blue couldn't help but note that the build-up to this flight had been quite unusual, though. Normally it was her job as the perky air hostess to greet the passengers as they entered the plane, but for reasons unknown to her Randy was currently fulfilling this duty while she remained in the cockpit, diligently cleaning Madam's shoes with her tongue as she read her morning paper. Skye's new-found woman's intuition told her that the reason behind the change in routine almost undoubtedly spelled bad news for her. Her intuition also told her not to raise the subject with Madam. Neither party said a word until it was nearly time for Skye to head out into the cabin and deliver the safety instructions to the passengers. Michelle fumbled around in her handbag and fished out an item from within, an action which naturally piqued the interest of her put-upon slavegirl. "Now, Skye, the reason you're in here is because today's clients are very important people, and we want to give a professional first impression. I mean, we know how insatiable you can be when you're in the company of a gentleman, sweetheart - we've all seen the camera footage! We want them to be able to at least get into their seats before you attempt to jump on their cocks!" Skye responded with a sullen pout. She was instructed to act like a boy- crazy hussy at all times when around her passengers, or else she'd be hit with a veritable hailstorm of demerits. She just couldn't win. "Now, Miss Blue, look up at me." She obeyed, and before she could blink, Michelle reached out and dabbed something onto both of her contact lens with the tip of her finger. To her horror, Skye realised she was blind! She began to thrash around in panic, but a slap to the face soon settled her down again. "Oh, don't be so flighty, Miss Blue. It's only while you give the safety demonstration, then I'll remove them. The safety instructions are a vital part of the flight, don't you know, and I don't want you getting distracted by all those trouser bulges on display. You used to tell me you could do my job blindfolded, well here's your chance, hot shot!" Skye had no response to that, because the time for talk was over. Michelle hauled the screaming flight attendant to her feet by her hair, and then guided her towards the service curtain by pinching her rump until she was across the threshold. Returning to her seat, Michelle mimed the pinching action to Randy with her fingers and said matter-of-factly, "You know, I quite enjoyed that. I can see why men do it so often." ------------------------------------------------------- Miss Skye Blue stood nervously at the front of the plane's central aisle, acutely aware that all eyes in the cabin were affixed firmly on her shapely body. But were there one pair of eyes, or a hundred? Thanks to whatever it was that was gunking up her bright blue contacts, it was impossible to tell. She stood attentively with her hands crossed in front of her, with a big vacant smile on her face which belied the fear she was feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her tight, tight latex mini- dress left almost nothing to the imagination. Dressed as she was, she was being literally thrown to the wolves. She didn't know how many wolves there were, but with her long, long legs and heaving bosom on display, she knew that they'd be hungry. Ravenous, even. After a few moments, Michelle's familiar voice rang out over the PA system. "Good morning, gentlemen, and welcome to this non-stop Layover Airways flight from London Heathrow to Las Vegas McCarran International Airport. At this time allow us to introduce to you your in-flight entertainment unit, Miss Skye Blue" Clapping. Even a wolf-whistle. Skye dipped her wings in appreciation. The spiel continues. "Miss Blue will be attending to your EVERY need during the flight. There is no request too vanilla and no request too depraved, so please feel free to ask! Now, each of you have been issued with a remote control - should you require Miss Blue's services, please feel free to press the red button in the middle of the remote. That will send an electric jolt to a receiver that has been surgically transplanted in her backside" OUCH! OUCH! OUCH! They always test it out during that part of the speech! At least Skye now knew how many passengers were aboard - three. "Each passenger has also been issued with a key that will unlock your stewardesses' chastity belt - but we must advise you that we'll be counting them up again at the end of the flight, so don't lose them! Now, in the case of an emergency, your nearest exits are here and here..." Skye performed the classic sweeping hand gesture, indicating where they were. ."..and in the case of a sexual emergency, your stewardesses' entrance holes are here and here." After she'd finished pointing out the location of her orifices to the men in attendance, Skye rooted around blindly on the floor for her next prop - a ballgag dressed up to look like an airline seatbelt. Michelle's voice continued on calmly and professionally. "Fasten your stewardesses' mouth gag by clipping the buckle and pulling until snug. If you need a condom, simply pull on the safety lever in front of you and an emergency pack will drop down from the panel above your head. Please remember to affix your own condom before attempting to fit anybody else's." It continued: "Any electrical items inserted inside your stewardesses' bottom should be switched off for take-off and landing. Thank you for flying Layover Airways, and we trust you'll all have a very, very satisfying flight." With the ordeal over and done with, Skye scampered back behind the curtain to have her sight restored and to refresh her make-up one last time before take-off. ------------------------------------------------------ When Flight Attendant Miss Skye Blue re-emerged from the curtain, she was the very definition of sex on legs. She was on company time now, and her job description was to walk, talk, suck and fuck like her client's wet dream come true. Holding a tray of complimentary champagne glasses high above her head with her left hand, she planted her other hand on her right hip and pranced through the cabin, rolling her hips in an exaggeratedly sexual manner as she moved. Every single flounce, every single flick of her hair, every single movement of her body was designed to advertise her sexual promiscuity to any and all men in the nearby vicinity. A neutral observer would have never guessed in a million years that behind Skye Blue's saucy veneer lay a red-blooded, heterosexual male. It embarrassed Skye to her core to have to act like such a wanton slut, but she didn't have a choice in the matter if she ever harboured hope of regaining her lost status as an alpha male. The numerous surveillance cameras around the cabin were providing a direct feed to the pilots in the cockpit and Michelle had made the situation quite clear: if she ever suspected that Skye Blue had been anything less than a compliant, pleasing bitch to her passengers, then Skye could kiss goodbye to what remained of her male genitalia for ever! Skye was so busy perfecting her catwalk model strut whilst balancing the teetering tray of glasses that she neglected to look directly at her passengers until she was less than two metres away. Scanning the seats quickly with her baby blue bambi eyes, she noted that she didn't recognise the two men to her left, but when her fluttery eyes swept right towards the third and final gentleman, she almost spilled the champagne down her cleavage in shock! There, sitting in front of her, undressing her latex-clad hourglass figure with his trademark sleazy salesman leer, was Richard Hanson, Europa Airways chairman - and Ace McLaren's former best friend! Oh, poo! Miss Blue's pretty little head swam with conflicting emotions as she tried to take in the enormity of this situation. Her first thoughts were of salvation. Richard wasn't just Ace's closest friend, he was one of the richest and most influential men in the entire world - if anyone could get him out of this emasculating bind, it was Rich. Oh, how could Michelle be this stupid? Skye made a promise to herself: once this mess was sorted out and she'd got those titanic tits removed from her chest, she'd fuck that bitch over, both figuratively and literally. After he'd sued her arse off, Michelle would need to spend eight hours every night fucking strangers under a streetlamp just to keep up with the interest repayments! Skye's locked-up cockette twitched in its prison at the very thought of it. But her moment of triumph evaporated when she suddenly remembered that she still was under the gaze of the cameras. Explaining to him how it came to be that she was working as a ladyboy prostitute would be a delicate operation and she needed time to not only get her point across but also convince him he was telling the truth. In short, she needed to make him like her so much that he would agree to meet her away from the work place. But in this body, there was only one service she had to offer that he'd be interested in. And that's when the reality of the situation hit home - shit! He was going to want to have sex with her - and she wouldn't be able to say no! "Hey, sweetheart. Earth to Toots, Earth to Toots," snapped Rich, clicking his fingers irritably in front of Skye's spaced-out face. "Sorry...Sir," came the meek reply. "I was just thinking about...umm..." "What I'm packing downstairs, I bet," he sneered, indicating at his crotch - which was visibly in the upright position. "Well, don't get flustered, babe - you'll meet him soon enough, and he'll 'fly' you straight to heaven!" He laughed at his own joke. Rich had clearly still not taken Ace's advice to drop the cheesy chat-up lines, but on the other hand, Ace didn't take Rich's advice to never marry, so it worked out even in the end. Most girls would have thrown their drink over him and left, but Skye Blue wasn't most girls. She laughed affectedly at his awful joke, touching her bosom lightly with her limp hand, and complimented Sir on his wit. "My name's Richard, but you can call me Mr Hanson. And this" he motioned towards the rotund gentleman sitting to Skye's left, "is Mr Tarasov, the chairman of Imperial Airlines. He flew in from Moscow this morning so he must be feeling pretty low on energy. Why don't you strut over there and show him some sugar while I go over these documents?" "As you wish, Mr Hanson, Sir" complied Skye, relieved to have earned a temporary reprieve from sexually servicing her closest friend. She bent down to pour him a glass of champagne and then, without warning, he grabbed her by the scoop neck of her dress, pulled her in close and French kissed her! "I'll be back for you later, hotstuff," he promised, before dismissing her with a wave of his hand and a condescending pat on her butt. A red-faced Miss Blue thanked Mr Hanson for his attentions and minced across to greet and attend to the needs of her other guest, Mr Tarasov. Perhaps he just wanted a cuddle and a chat? Judging by the way he was looking at her, and the way he was rubbing his crotch through his trousers, Skye suspected not. Brrr. Even by her standards, satisfying this slob was going to be a unenviable task. The Russian oligarch might have been rich but he was not an aspiration figure. His portly frame threatened to overspill not only from his business suit but also from the generous dimensions of his luxurious seat, while his receding hairline and general poor hygiene made him look much older than his years. Such a contrast to Mr Hanson, whose virile blond locks, athletic body and toned buttocks made Skye shudder with....oh god, what were these hormones doing to her? Skye placed the champagne bottle into a holder next to Mr Tarasov's seat and introduced herself to him, dipping her wings in subservience as she did so. Tarasov returned the gesture (sans curtsey, of course) and proceeded to bore her to tears for the next few minutes with boastful tales of his wealth and importance. Miss Blue, ever the professional, was attentive and alert and hung on his every word. It was quite the contrast from the last time they met, at last year's Airline Leaders' Summit, when Mr Tarasov approached the daring young pilot everyone called Ace at the after party with an offer of work, only to be met with a torrent of abuse. "How dare you offer me work, you disgusting, bloated Ruskie" Ace boomed, loud enough to be heard over the music. "Imperial is what, the second largest airline in the world? To me, that just means they're the largest loser. Your tinpot outfit couldn't afford me even if they sold marketing space on your belly, you fat fuck. You've got more chance of touching a woman's tit than you have of gaining my services" As Skye held that thought, Mr Tarasov's clammy fingers seized the initiative and grabbed hold of her right hooter. "Honk, honk!" he laughed in that thick Russian accent of his. "I tell you, comrade Hanson, I wasn't sure about this idea of yours to hire a shemale hostess, but this he-she is really something." "You should learn to trust my judgement better, Mr Tarasov," peering over his papers. "After all, we're going to be business partners soon. Plus, if you really want to see what she can do, you should check out some of the instructional videos on your personal TV set." "Hahaha! I might just do that!" he roared and turned his attentions back to his ladyboy servant, but Skye's eyes had wavered to the enormous 6"7 young man who was sat on his own at the back of the cabin in tracksuit bottoms and a Tapout! T-shirt. He looked up over the MMA magazine he was idly flicking through, noticed Skye gawking at him and flashed her a disdainful look. When Mr Tarasov explained that Vlad was just his personal bodyguard and that she should not concern herself with him, Skye's relief was palpable. He looked like he could have ripped her in half! Michelle's voice rang out over the tannoy. "Cabin crew, two minutes until take-off." Miss Blue turned to take her seat, but Tarasov grabbed her wrist tightly, causing her to yelp in that high-pitched womanly voice of hers. "Why don't you stay here, princess?" he offered in a tone which suggested refusal was not an option. Nonetheless, safety procedures meant Skye had to fight her corner. "I apologise Sir, but I must return to my designated-" Her sentence was interrupted by a sudden, violent and as it transpired quite deliberate jolt as the plane braked suddenly, causing Skye, ever- vulnerable because of her skyscraper heels, to fly directly into the path of Mr Tarasov's lap. When she landed, his bear-like hands wrapped themselves around her, making escape impossible. Skye squirmed and wiggled and jiggled for a brief few moments in an attempt to escape her rotund suitor's clutches, but she soon resigned herself to her fate. Her attention switched to whatever it was she was sitting on that was poking sharply into her buttocks. "Please fasten your seatbelt Sir, I think I may be sitting on the buckle!" offered Skye, before realising that the brute was holding either side of the seatbelt in his hands. That was no buckle! Tarasov clipped the belt over the combined waists of himself and his blushing playmate as the plane began its taxi, and by the time the craft was in the air, Tarasov was making full use of his in-flight entertainment unit, biting and kissing Skye's ears and neck aggressively while kneading the stewardesses' breasts roughly like they were lumps of dough. Skye responded as per the Layover Airways employee handbook dictated; by panting and moaning like a bitch in heat. By the time they reached altitude, however, Skye was horrified to discover that her nipples were as hard as bullets and that her moans were no longer voluntary. "Well, we're on our way, then" said Mr Hanson, raising his champagne glass. "This calls for a celebration." "Couldn't agree more, my friend," replied Tarasov, discarding the ravaged flight attendant for a second to return the gesture. And then he tipped the entire glass down Skye's d?colletage, popped open the top few buttons of her dress and began to savagely lick and suck on her champagne-coated cans. Skye could feel her right hand being forced down Mr Tarasov's trousers as her left grabbed hold of the handle on the overhead locker above her for balance. It was going to be a long flight.