To the Yukon - Continued
“Penis still caged, balls still leashed,” the pilot shaking her head as a nude Roberta Probert is led up the stairway. “Whatever happened to that key?”
The woman inquires, having been in charge of its safe keeping during the flight from Zolanda many months ago.
“It’s... ah... well... a girl keeps it in the office,” Roberta succinctly responds as fight attendant Marissa tugs to lead to a cabin seat.
“If it’s Edie, it couldn’t be in better hands. Goodness, Marissa, they’ve got him plugged.” the pilot noting the flanged end of a red anal plug emanating from between Roberta’s cheeks. “He’ll probably need your help if he... she... needs to go potty.”
With that, the pilot steps into the cockpit, to Roberta’s relief, closing and latching the door.
“Are you going to be comfortable sitting with that thing inside you?” Marissa inquires as she turns Roberta about to inspect. “The flight is a little over five hours,” Roberta feeling fingers gently tugging at the flanged end.
More ignominy, feeling the flight attendant deep within, traveling sans clothing.
“I... I... can... ah... manage, Miss Marissa,” Roberta shamed to disclose she spends most of the day impaled.
Before giving permission to sit, Marissa places a hand towel on the leather seat.
“You’re kind of greasy... back there,” finally pushing at the shoulders, Roberta knowing to lower herself.
Roberta patiently remains still as nylon straps encircle her wrists. Hands move to playfully flick her nipple bells, then Marissa lowers to likewise encircle the ankles and adhere with Velcro. Made one with the seat, as always, there comes irony in how quickly Roberta is made immobile... and how a simple child could free her... no cuffs, chains, locks, keys. Just a pinch between thumb and index finger and a quick pull of the Velcro is what separates her from freedom.
Lastly, Marissa unhooks the testicle leash, with a giggle fingers offering a quick grope of the hairless ball sac.
“You’ll sleep for me. I’ll hood you,” Roberta noting the tone of authority... not asking but directing. “If you need to go potty, I’ll get a basin. Quicker and easier then releasing you and using the leash to take you to the lavatory.”
Roberta submissively nods. Just as with Miss Edie, the young girl is becoming more and more authoritative over her. Prior flights Roberta was permitted to roam the cabin. Sure enough, Marissa steps to the galley returning with a full latex hood, similar to that used in the Clinic.
“My hair, Miss Marissa,” Roberta strangely proud of her coiffured locks.
Marissa ignores the plea, pulling the black latex over Roberta’s head to bring darkness as the jet begins rolling from the hanger.
“Such a girly girl,” Marissa chides. “It’s the Yukon, not Rodeo Drive.”
Taxi then take off, as the jet attains altitude and levels off, the constant whoosh of the engines, the darkness of the hood bring Roberta thoughts of his/her captivity in Zolanda, subjected to the conditioning of the Clinic... unending bondage... sensory deprivation.
There is no headset, her state of nothingness not to be interrupted by mind altering videos, yet Roberta’s mental return is bolstered when something is pressed to his lips. Food! She is to be fed, hands not released even for sustenance.
Roberta obediently partakes, his imagination again returning him to the matriarchy, where males are hand fed by supervising women... wives, mothers, sisters... throughout life... even in adulthood.
It is fruit, flight attendant Marissa pressing an orange slice to her lips. She partakes. Then comes juice, then comes another slice of orange. Roberta envisions Miss Marissa’s look of maternal gratification as she feeds, Roberta a helpless child. More juice, another slice. The feeding continues. Finally Roberta shakes her head, no more. There comes no verbal reply, instead fingers return to Roberta’s nipples... pinching... pinching... twisting... the sharp pain makes the intent become apparent. Roberta opens. She is to take more juice, another slice.
Why no talk? It comes to mind that under the auspices of Miss Leona and Miss Harriet, permission must be obtained for speech. In reflecting, Roberta comes to realize spontaneous speech has been denied since his captivity in Zolanda. Perhaps young Marissa too is demanding silence.
More juice. Roberta imbibes. Dare she speak out? Shaking her head earned punishment, the pinching, twisting fingers unrelenting and firm. Another swig, another slice, another swig.
Finally Roberta feels a cloth, dabbing at her lips, swiping at her chin, cleansed as a toddler at meal’s end. Feeding time over. She is returned to dark isolation, the static-like noise of the jet engines her only sensory input. Though restrained sitting upright, she sleeps, months of being so bound in the prison bedroom of the Palace. She dreams, and with all the recent trauma, such dreams disturb.
Back to the pink tent. The jungles of Zolanda. Foreman Benson. The roustabouts. Eddie Pringle slaking revenge.
‘May I suck your penis, Sir?’ Roberta sickened as her subconscious hears his/her voice so obeisantly offering fellatio to men once considered underlings.
Her dream transcends... to the Yukon. She knows none of those who visit the pink tent. And a woman supervises, the atmosphere for sure to be less toxic than that under foreman Benson, Roberta dreams. She will have some covering, yes. She will not need to explain the steel mesh of her penis cage. A skirt is permitted.
Yet it is a dream. What of Miss Leona’s directive... that she is to suck, bend and spread for the rugged crews working in the most remote places about the globe. Many weeks, much effort in being anally opened and orally trained, her sphincter to be an erogenous zone. Can Roberta avoid so offering herself in the Yukon? She envisions covering... not bending, spreading to offer a well lubricated rear opening. The dream ends.
Roberta feels her penis cage being handled. She stirs. Over the cabin noise, through the thick latex covering her head, Roberta hears sibilant sounds.
“Psst, Psst.”
She understands, as fingers work to shift about her male package and plumbing. Roberta is to urinate for the woman now in charge, a receptacle apparently aligned with the tube invading her urethra. Yes, the girl is reveling in her control... first feeding and hydrating... now supervising her emissions.
Again... where does Miss Leona find these girls?
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