Baton Rouge Airport
“I must assume she was a good girl for you.” Jabari sarcastic in greeting.
“Oh yes. Very quiet,” flight attendant Marissa replies with a grin.
The Benchmark Falcon jet has returned from Dawson City Airport. For Roberta Probert the lengthy flight seemed interminable, sitting strapped to the cabin seat as always. Marissa chose to revel in her growing authority over the hapless harlot of the pink tent, again slipping in place a thick latex hood, but before stuffing Roberta’s ears to deafen and then silencing her with a ball gag, sizable opening to facilitate breathing and to force fluids.
Though Miss Margie provided the gadget to deflate and remove the balloon catheter, Marissa, after a moment’s thought, decided it was more convenient to leave in place, obviating lavatory visits.
As a result, Roberta was transported back to Baton Rouge more as a package than a passenger. Sensory input came with only the deep thrum of the jet’s engines and the feel of liquids in her mouth and throat as Marissa chose to keep her captive’s bladder brimming.
“Do you think she will know it is you,” Marissa inquires as the duo simply stand, both relishing Roberta’s helplessness.
“She will when she feels my leash hand. She knows my touch. What that’s dangling from her penis cage?”
“They catheterized her... at the drilling site. Margie Stenson gave me the thing to release and remove... but I didn’t bother... taking her to the lavatory is awkward... and it’s neater than holding a basin.”
Jabari smiles with the explanation.
“And gave you so much control over her. Could it be you hydrated and neglected to open the catheter valve.”
“It was sort of fun to watch her squirm. But I opened it for her on final approach.”
“Like a very kind nurse,” Jabari laughing. “Well let’s get her to the car,” reaching to tear the Velcro strap at the right wrist.
Marissa stoops and releases the ankles. Roberta stirs as the crimson high heels are slipped in place.
“Should I remove the hood? I stuffed her ears. She cannot hear.”
There comes a wicked grim, Jabari knowing of the extensive leash training of Robert Probert while being conditioned in Zolanda.
“No. It will be a slow trip to the car... but more fun. Probably for both of us. Deep within she thrills with feminine control.”
The testicle leash is clipped in place. Marissa hands over the light travel bag, Jabari able to thread her leash arm through the handle. With a tug Roberta knows to stand. Does she know it’s Jabari? Does it matter? Obedience ingrained, she will follow whomever controls. And when Jabari taps the bare buttocks with a short length of rattan, establishing her dominion, Roberta lurches, recognizing the painful, commanding touch.
The journey is indeed time consuming, pilot, copilot impressed as a naked, sightless and deafened Roberta Probert shuffles, bells ringing, to the fuselage door then takes the few steps to the concrete floor of the Benchmark hanger. They giggle as her hands go to the back of her hooded head in a show of submission.
Step, step, step, Roberta becoming more and more graceful in heels. Jabari decides to end the show at the exit door. The hood is torn away, the wads of cotton at the ears dropping. Sight and sound restored, Roberta blinks under the lights, Jabari amused that her hands immediately go to her hair to prink the disheveled strands.
“Welcome home, Roberta. Do you know where you are?”
Roberta turns her head, spotting the Falcon jet resting in the hanger, noting the flight crew laughing, instantly feeling more naked and exposed sans hood.
“Yes, Ma’am. The hanger, Baton Rouge airport.”
“Good. And you’re not plugged. Would you feel better with an anal insertion?”
“I... well... and some covering, Miss Jabari?”
“You haven’t had clothing in over a week. Would that feel right to you? There was no need for it in the tent.”
Roberta understands that mind games renew, mental submission as crucial to her subjugation as the physical.
“People will... ah... see me, Miss Jabari.”
“Yes, the pilots are looking at you now. A pretty girl... naked... with a steel penis cage. It excites you, Roberta. Fighting the spikes? Penis throbbing?”
Damn... they know him... her. So aware of her demented proclivities.
“You’d probably be drooling for me... without the catheter. Very thoughtful of Margie Stenson to assure neatness. I can only imagine how excited you got in being pegged. The ultimate in humiliation for you.”
There are indeed twinges. Robert realizes that without further concession, she will continue to be put on display.
“I think I need to be plugged, Miss Jabari. And to go without clothing. It’s best for me.” Roberta struggling with the words.
“Good girl,” Jabari gesturing to bend and spread. “You must learn your place. What is best for you.”
Jabari searches the travel bag, extracting the anal plug. Fingers splay the cheeks, the plug is pressed t0 the rosebud opening. Roberta takes the implement with surprising ease. Daily sodomy has opened her for facile penetration.
“There. Feel better?”
Can Roberta bring herself to admit... there is indeed quirky satiation? The tightness manipulates the neglected male gland, being so often opened and penetrated twice or more daily for the past week.
“Come. The limo is parked nearby. Unless you want me to walk you around the parking lot.”
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