In-Flight Entertainment: Conclusion free porn video

In-Flight Entertainment: Part Six By Alyssa Hyatt www.makingmaidens.blogspot.com Feedback gratefully received x ------------------------------------------ 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 fianc? 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.