From Yield
They're on a small 4-seater plane and she's blindfolded, sitting behind the pilot.
I shifted on the seat and let my eyes shut under the sunglasses. I sighed, reliving when he’d made me stand against the wall and do dirty things to myself.
I guess I looked a little too happy because Glass nudged me with his shoulder. “What are you thinking?” He must have leaned in close, for I felt his breath on my neck.
Evil man.
Should I say? I was directly behind the left-hand pilot’s seat. I’d seen that before the pilot arrived and I’d been blindfolded. With the heavy drone of the engine, the pilot wouldn’t hear a word unless I spoke too loudly. I might not shock Glass, but I could tease him and I had the perfect excuse. The man had asked me.
I turned my head, finding he’d maneuvered himself so his ear was next to my mouth. “I was remembering when you made me stand against the wall and pull my bikini aside so you could see me. How you made me…”
I hesitated, never before having said anything this sexual aloud where others might overhear me. The temptation overrode my prudishness. I could imagine how it might affect this man.
And so, I added more. “You made me put my fingers up inside. Made me fuck myself.” I couldn’t see him but I was sure he was listening, really intently. What fun. “Watching you watch me until I almost came…I remember how wet I was. And then you kneeled and touched my... My…” My tongue was stuck on the four letter word. It always flipped my curse meter to high. “Cunt. That was so hot.”
He cleared his throat.
“Did I say that right?” I was going from grinning to straight-faced spasmodically, as I tried not to show how hilarious I thought this was. “You did ask.”
“You are a little cock-tease. I should pull you over here and make you sit on me.”
The threat froze my heart. Crap. Sitting was not just sitting. He wouldn’t dare.
He lowered our clasped hands into the lap of the little pleated black skirt he’d helped me buy at a market. “Part your legs,” he murmured.
I went from zero to lust speed in one second. “Uhhh. What?” What was he thinking of doing? “The pilot,” I hissed.
“He’s busy. Can’t see. He won’t hear you if you’re quiet.”
He was expecting me to make noise? Expecting moaning, maybe?
“You’re crazy! I am not. Not. Doing this.”
“If you delay any more, I will tie your hands and fuck you on that seat. I guarantee you, he will see that.”
Seconds slipped past in some other universe. My thoughts whirled. If I didn’t do it, would he fuck me here, in this plane? I could imagine that happening, in exuberant color and sound. I’d watch that movie. I could feel that movie happening to me. And what was wrong with me? Nothing. A fantasy, that’s all it was. Triggered by his threat. I didn’t actually want the pilot to see anything. That would be so damn dirty. But Glass…from what he’d done before, he might carry through with this.
I felt heat unfurl and swell, low in my stomach, as surely as if he were already doing filthy, dirty things to me.
“I…” I began, then I halted, confused.
I couldn’t fool myself. This excited me.
If I was sick, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be cured.
I stopped resisting and let him drag my hand downward. With our combined fists, he put pressure on my clit for a few leisurely circular motions. He let go but surprised me with one last encouraging press that drew a gasp from me. The sneak of my skirt up my right thigh told me he was inching it upward. I considered my options again, but my thinking blurred the instant he tugged aside my panties and slid his thick finger along my slit.
“You’re wet again,” he said matter-of-factly.
“You bastard.” An automatic objection. A second later, I parted my thighs another half inch. In that moment I was a wanton slut.
Whether he heard my words or not, he slipped that finger into me as casually as a man might stick a finger loaded with grease inside some mechanism that needed lubing. Then he proceeded to fuck me for a few strokes. One place high inside became a hot button to fun. Zing. I swallowed a choking noise and tried not to move as a wave of ohmigod spread. Hold it in. Hold. Oh, oh god. I arched up an inch. Back fucking down. Into the seat.
I was clutching the seat either side of me.
Maybe I had a G-spot after all.
“Did you call me a bastard?”
What? I blinked madly under the taped over sunglasses. Nothing but blackness there, and him, touching me, him inside my pussy, with another man a few feet away. Please keep flying.
And why did he ask that? Yes, I had. So?
His finger sucked out, slowly, my pussy muscles clamping on it like they could keep it there as a hostage. I bit back a giggle. I was aching so much to have him back in me. Beg? No. Absolutely no.
But I wanted. I wanted that finger so much. This time I did giggle at the absurdity.
“Giggling? You need punishment. You don’t get to call me a bastard, Miss Wren.” A drawled threat.
Psssh.
“Live with it,” I muttered, feeling daring, like I’d climbed a mountain for the first time. The adrenalin high was awesome. The pilot hadn’t shifted in his seat. Or I hadn’t heard him do it. As long as he didn’t have some strategically positioned mirror, I was safe.
Glass pushed apart my legs again. There was something else down there, between my legs that wasn’t his hand. Something hard but the size of his finger…no, bigger, probing for my entrance. I squirmed away, or tried to, but he increased the force, screwing it upward while the base of his hand rested heavily on my mons. My clit and the top of my thighs, where the skin had pinched, hurt and throbbed, all at once.
“No!” I said in a strident whisper. “No.”
“I fuck you, or this does.”
“Wait.” The thing moved inward a half inch, pressing back my walls with its ungiving hardness. A plastic or metal something. Not a dildo. It was too inflexible. I clenched my hand on his wrist and tried to pluck it away with pure strength. I failed. I dug in nails.
All done on the quiet, without abrupt movements. With my face still.
“Stop, Wren. Put your hands on the seat. Now.” When he said now his tone lowered, like he was on his last tether.
The plane droned on. Our little scene seemed as obvious in my head as a play on a stage. Maybe not. Be shush.
“Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” Yet I had my palms on the seat as I spoke, as he wriggled the thing further in. I was a little scared. Not knowing what it was, left too much to my imagination.
I’m Wren Gavroche, a damn millionairess and here I am letting him do this to me?
I knew why. I did. The deeper me knew. Because letting him do this bound us together like a vine around a tree. Like a captive princess and a black prince or a damsel in a dark dungeon. If he needed to punish me, I needed to be his victim. Win…win…lose, in some weird ever-tightening circle.
He seated the thing in me all the way. Poked his finger up and shoved one last time to make sure then removed his finger. The thing had disappeared up there. My entrance had closed in. Deeper in, the rest of my pussy clenched down on the bitch thing so tightly it hurt. Was this a glass dildo? But no. It had an end. Too short. All of it was up there.
I turned my head, praying he was there, listening. “Now, please? Take it out?”
He patted me lightly over my slit, then tidied up my panties. But he left his hand laid across my lower lips, as if claiming my pussy, and he began to brush his thumb across my clit in a barely there way. “It’s staying inside you until we land.”
Fuck. Really?
His thumb managed to distract me, until arousal made me clamp down again, and I felt it. Rigid. A painful and foreign thing.
I turned down my mouth. “Not fair. Or nice.”
“Next time don’t cock tease or swear at me. Keep your hands where they fucking are. Be good.” He nosed my ear lobe then bit and stayed there biting and sucking while his thumb kept on circling and circling, under my skirt, skating over my poor clit, sending me higher with each and every second. My fingers clawed at the seat cover.
How could the pilot not know? How could I sit here and…oh crap, I didn’t care.
“Ssss.” My teeth clenched. My fingers curled in harder.
His teeth released my ear. “Are you going to come just from this?”
Just from?
From him fingerfucking me while I’m blindfolded then making me sit still so he could insert that, insert that…whatever into me and then assault my clit? Sarcasm needed.
Not. Right. Now.
I had my head pressed back into the upholstery by then and my lips sealed. I wasn’t going to squeal or do anything…unladylike. I swore it.
I didn’t. But I may have torn a small hole in the seat cover.
They're on a small 4-seater plane and she's blindfolded, sitting behind the pilot.
I shifted on the seat and let my eyes shut under the sunglasses. I sighed, reliving when he’d made me stand against the wall and do dirty things to myself.
I guess I looked a little too happy because Glass nudged me with his shoulder. “What are you thinking?” He must have leaned in close, for I felt his breath on my neck.
Evil man.
Should I say? I was directly behind the left-hand pilot’s seat. I’d seen that before the pilot arrived and I’d been blindfolded. With the heavy drone of the engine, the pilot wouldn’t hear a word unless I spoke too loudly. I might not shock Glass, but I could tease him and I had the perfect excuse. The man had asked me.
I turned my head, finding he’d maneuvered himself so his ear was next to my mouth. “I was remembering when you made me stand against the wall and pull my bikini aside so you could see me. How you made me…”
I hesitated, never before having said anything this sexual aloud where others might overhear me. The temptation overrode my prudishness. I could imagine how it might affect this man.
And so, I added more. “You made me put my fingers up inside. Made me fuck myself.” I couldn’t see him but I was sure he was listening, really intently. What fun. “Watching you watch me until I almost came…I remember how wet I was. And then you kneeled and touched my... My…” My tongue was stuck on the four letter word. It always flipped my curse meter to high. “Cunt. That was so hot.”
He cleared his throat.
“Did I say that right?” I was going from grinning to straight-faced spasmodically, as I tried not to show how hilarious I thought this was. “You did ask.”
“You are a little cock-tease. I should pull you over here and make you sit on me.”
The threat froze my heart. Crap. Sitting was not just sitting. He wouldn’t dare.
He lowered our clasped hands into the lap of the little pleated black skirt he’d helped me buy at a market. “Part your legs,” he murmured.
I went from zero to lust speed in one second. “Uhhh. What?” What was he thinking of doing? “The pilot,” I hissed.
“He’s busy. Can’t see. He won’t hear you if you’re quiet.”
He was expecting me to make noise? Expecting moaning, maybe?
“You’re crazy! I am not. Not. Doing this.”
“If you delay any more, I will tie your hands and fuck you on that seat. I guarantee you, he will see that.”
Seconds slipped past in some other universe. My thoughts whirled. If I didn’t do it, would he fuck me here, in this plane? I could imagine that happening, in exuberant color and sound. I’d watch that movie. I could feel that movie happening to me. And what was wrong with me? Nothing. A fantasy, that’s all it was. Triggered by his threat. I didn’t actually want the pilot to see anything. That would be so damn dirty. But Glass…from what he’d done before, he might carry through with this.
I felt heat unfurl and swell, low in my stomach, as surely as if he were already doing filthy, dirty things to me.
“I…” I began, then I halted, confused.
I couldn’t fool myself. This excited me.
If I was sick, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be cured.
I stopped resisting and let him drag my hand downward. With our combined fists, he put pressure on my clit for a few leisurely circular motions. He let go but surprised me with one last encouraging press that drew a gasp from me. The sneak of my skirt up my right thigh told me he was inching it upward. I considered my options again, but my thinking blurred the instant he tugged aside my panties and slid his thick finger along my slit.
“You’re wet again,” he said matter-of-factly.
“You bastard.” An automatic objection. A second later, I parted my thighs another half inch. In that moment I was a wanton slut.
Whether he heard my words or not, he slipped that finger into me as casually as a man might stick a finger loaded with grease inside some mechanism that needed lubing. Then he proceeded to fuck me for a few strokes. One place high inside became a hot button to fun. Zing. I swallowed a choking noise and tried not to move as a wave of ohmigod spread. Hold it in. Hold. Oh, oh god. I arched up an inch. Back fucking down. Into the seat.
I was clutching the seat either side of me.
Maybe I had a G-spot after all.
“Did you call me a bastard?”
What? I blinked madly under the taped over sunglasses. Nothing but blackness there, and him, touching me, him inside my pussy, with another man a few feet away. Please keep flying.
And why did he ask that? Yes, I had. So?
His finger sucked out, slowly, my pussy muscles clamping on it like they could keep it there as a hostage. I bit back a giggle. I was aching so much to have him back in me. Beg? No. Absolutely no.
But I wanted. I wanted that finger so much. This time I did giggle at the absurdity.
“Giggling? You need punishment. You don’t get to call me a bastard, Miss Wren.” A drawled threat.
Psssh.
“Live with it,” I muttered, feeling daring, like I’d climbed a mountain for the first time. The adrenalin high was awesome. The pilot hadn’t shifted in his seat. Or I hadn’t heard him do it. As long as he didn’t have some strategically positioned mirror, I was safe.
Glass pushed apart my legs again. There was something else down there, between my legs that wasn’t his hand. Something hard but the size of his finger…no, bigger, probing for my entrance. I squirmed away, or tried to, but he increased the force, screwing it upward while the base of his hand rested heavily on my mons. My clit and the top of my thighs, where the skin had pinched, hurt and throbbed, all at once.
“No!” I said in a strident whisper. “No.”
“I fuck you, or this does.”
“Wait.” The thing moved inward a half inch, pressing back my walls with its ungiving hardness. A plastic or metal something. Not a dildo. It was too inflexible. I clenched my hand on his wrist and tried to pluck it away with pure strength. I failed. I dug in nails.
All done on the quiet, without abrupt movements. With my face still.
“Stop, Wren. Put your hands on the seat. Now.” When he said now his tone lowered, like he was on his last tether.
The plane droned on. Our little scene seemed as obvious in my head as a play on a stage. Maybe not. Be shush.
“Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” Yet I had my palms on the seat as I spoke, as he wriggled the thing further in. I was a little scared. Not knowing what it was, left too much to my imagination.
I’m Wren Gavroche, a damn millionairess and here I am letting him do this to me?
I knew why. I did. The deeper me knew. Because letting him do this bound us together like a vine around a tree. Like a captive princess and a black prince or a damsel in a dark dungeon. If he needed to punish me, I needed to be his victim. Win…win…lose, in some weird ever-tightening circle.
He seated the thing in me all the way. Poked his finger up and shoved one last time to make sure then removed his finger. The thing had disappeared up there. My entrance had closed in. Deeper in, the rest of my pussy clenched down on the bitch thing so tightly it hurt. Was this a glass dildo? But no. It had an end. Too short. All of it was up there.
I turned my head, praying he was there, listening. “Now, please? Take it out?”
He patted me lightly over my slit, then tidied up my panties. But he left his hand laid across my lower lips, as if claiming my pussy, and he began to brush his thumb across my clit in a barely there way. “It’s staying inside you until we land.”
Fuck. Really?
His thumb managed to distract me, until arousal made me clamp down again, and I felt it. Rigid. A painful and foreign thing.
I turned down my mouth. “Not fair. Or nice.”
“Next time don’t cock tease or swear at me. Keep your hands where they fucking are. Be good.” He nosed my ear lobe then bit and stayed there biting and sucking while his thumb kept on circling and circling, under my skirt, skating over my poor clit, sending me higher with each and every second. My fingers clawed at the seat cover.
How could the pilot not know? How could I sit here and…oh crap, I didn’t care.
“Ssss.” My teeth clenched. My fingers curled in harder.
His teeth released my ear. “Are you going to come just from this?”
Just from?
From him fingerfucking me while I’m blindfolded then making me sit still so he could insert that, insert that…whatever into me and then assault my clit? Sarcasm needed.
Not. Right. Now.
I had my head pressed back into the upholstery by then and my lips sealed. I wasn’t going to squeal or do anything…unladylike. I swore it.
I didn’t. But I may have torn a small hole in the seat cover.