(This is the second in a series of vignettes about a D/s couple’s long-distance relationship and how it evolves over the course of a year. Although their dynamic is fairly new, it has started to deepen. Readers should assume they have already shared those important discussions about limits, consent, and safe practices.)
She’d never been a fan of flying. Her anxiety made it difficult to relax, Although she was better than she used to be. Still, even when she conjured up every reassuring fact she’d read, and remembered to breathe and focus, she barely managed to hang on from Point A to Point B. One reason she always tried to book non-stop flights was because she worried that if she got off one plane, she wouldn’t be able to force herself onto another one. Not immediately.
She witnessed, waiting in line for the security check. Maybe it would be better this time. It would be better this time, she corrected herself. She hadn’t flown since…well, since things had changedin her life. After years of imagining what it would be like to become a sexual submissive, she’d recently taken steps to find out. She’d been lucky enough to find someone online — Sir, to her — who had been wonderful, taking her bit by bit into the playground, instead of standing on the outside, looking through the fence.
Sir knew she was anxious about taking such a long flight. They had spent New Year’s Eve together in her city two nights ago. Once he had learned about her last-minute work assignment, he had rearranged her flight (and rebooked his) so that they were flying together on the first leg. From there, he would leave her and fly home, while she headed to Europe for her management training.
She knew that Sir had put thought into their shared flight. She trusted him — and whatever he had planned — to provide some…unusual…distraction for her. Her kink was being controlled and humiliated. And Sir was subtle and wickedly on-target. The tasks he’d give her would, she was sure, press her buttons as surely as if his finger was pressing her clip.
As the security line slowly dumped forward, her breathing ratcheted up. She knew Sir’s intent was to engage her mind so that she didn’t have time to wind herself up about the flight. But honestly, between the flight and the…the other things…she felt she’d be lucky not to go into cardiac arrest.
God, the whole humiliation thing was so very different in real life than in her fansies. For one thing, he had her in a near-constant state of arousal with all the things, large and small, that he required of her. Edging herself, sending him photos in humiliating poses…. And now, she suspected that things would be taking a decidedly more public bent. Especially since she had specifically asked him to take more control.
The thought of those things made her squirm. She knew her face was already flushed; she was sure that others could see the heat radiating from her in waves.
They clearned the passport check, Sir following just behind her. She grabbed a tray for the security screening. Shoes off, laptop out. She lifted her small rollaboard onto the belt, her heart in her throat as it went through the scanner. Sir whispered something in her ear, making her redden further.
She stepped briskly to the metal and Plexiglas cage, posed, walked through. All the time darting glances at her bag’s progress. The man studying the screen looked bored as hell, slouched in his seat, one hand on the computer control, the other tapping the counter. Her bag went through. She breathed a sight of relief as she grabbed it and slipped her shoes on again.
Thank all the gods. She’d double-checked that bag about three times to make sure nothing in it would trigger any alarm. Even the hint of an alarm. Why? Because Sir had ordered her to put her dirty panties — the ones she’d edged in for the past three days at his command, right on top. If her bag was opened and searched, no onecould miss them. Silky blue with a bit of lace — and covered with the tell-tale signs of what a filter little slut she was, how wet she got when she edged herself.
There would be an unmistakable fragment as well. She’d crammed everything into her pursuit that she might need for the flight so that she wouldn’t have to crack open that case, risk someone identifying the scent, linking it to her. Bad enough that the clothes inside — the ones she’d planned to wear for the first couple of days in case her larger bag was lost in transit — would smell like pussy. It would be subtle, once she aired them out, but she knew that she would smell it, would know what it was, even if no one else did.
She drew a breath as she waited for Sir to join her, the memory of what he’d said in her ear reverberating through her taut body.
“Go ahead and tremble,” he’d whispered. “You can’t hide what you are if they open that bag. They’d drag you off to that far corner — or maybe a vacant room — and you’d have to tell them the embarrassing truth about yourself. They might even want to check for themselves….”
She knew it was all a bit of a mind game. Still, her knees felt weak. And her panties…well, they were drenched. A self-fulfilling prophecy, she thought wryly.
Together, they headed downstairs to wait for the automated train that would take them to their concourse. It pulled up with a hiss of brakes. They boarded the train, dragging their carry-on bags behind them, heading for the last concourse. When they reached it, there were fewer people around. The biggest crush of flights had departed for the day.
They found seats near the gate. Seeing the plane through the window rekindled her anxious thoughts. Before she could wind herself up, she heard Sir clear his throat pointedly. She blinked and turned her head towards him. He nodded at her legs. She parted them obediently, feeling herself get even wetter as he exercised his control in public. As his eyes roamed over her, they took on a gleam that means he was thinking of some subtle way to punish her for that delay.
But for now he gave her a smile and clapped her hand with his, setting them both in her lap. A seemingly innocent gesture of affection, except that he used his fingers to slowly work the zipper of her pants down until he could slide a couple of fingers inside, stroking her silky panties under cover of holding her hand.
She had to steel herself not to squirm away or react. Pretending to reach for purse, she scanned the area quickly from beneath her fringe of bangs to see if anyone was watching them. The gate area was still somewhat empty, and no one seemed to be looking in their direction. She let out an inaudible sight.
Only to gasp slightly as his fingers probed the damp cleft under her panties. A paralyzing pleasure blazed up in her. She couldn’t keep from thinking about some of the things they’d done last night: things he’d done to her, things he’dcommanded her to do for him… Even a month ago, the thought that she’d willingly do such things would have seemed impossible. But now, she couldn’t wait to do them again.
She closed her eyes as he continued to tease her pussy. “Who’s a good little fucktoy?” he leaned in close and asked. It wasn’t a rhetorical question; he expected an answer from her. Never mind that he talked to her as if she were a rambunctious puppy.
I am, Sir,” she whispered back, eyes still closed to hide her too-obvious pleasure. ‘I’m your good little fucktoy.” His fingers were giving her all kinds of wild thoughts. Such as whether anyone would notice if she suddenly slid to her knees and begged to suck his cock.
She must have made a sound, despite her caution, because his fingers were withdrawn. She kept her eyes closed, but she could imagine his disapproving look. It was still very hard for her to be quiet and not move when she was experiencing so much pleasure. The loss of it made her wantto grit her teeth in frustration, but she remained still.
A few moments later he nudged her arm with something cold. A bottle of water. “Open your eyes,” he said, voice calm but firm, “Drink this. You need to stay hydrated.”
She wanted to retreat back into her daydream, but she took the proved bottle of water and drank about a third of it. Suddenly she felt tired; last night’s Excesses had taken a toll, hurt her out — perhaps that had been Sir’s intent: to exhaust her so she’d sleep on the plane. Not likely.
She double-checked their boarding time, then stretched out her aching legs in front of her. At least her company had ponied up for a business-class seat for the overseas leg of her trip. It wasn’t a lie-flat bed, but at least she’d have a little more leg room.
All too soon she realized it was nearly time to begin boarding. She started to rise, thinking that she’d use the last few minutes to go to the bathroom. She hated airplane bathrooms; they always seemed so confining, and she had her suspicions about their level of cleanliness.
But Sir’s arm reached out, blocking her upward momentum. She started to explain her intent but stopped when she saw his smile. Ah, he’d figured out a way to punish her for that little delay. He’d make her wait; make her get his permission. She settled back, even as a little frisson of the double-edged need and denial ran Through her body. She’d finally had to admit to herself — and to him — how she craved it.
She wondered from time to time why she didn’t feel more embarrassed about the things they did together. She had thought it would be more difficult to throw off the yoke of years of restrictions — self-imposed and imposed by others on her. Instead, she felt freed. And also something she hadn’t generally felt in years: joy. Joy in small, moment-to-moment things. There were times when she felt like a kid in a candy shop. No…like she’d rediscovered the fearless child she’d once been — thegirl who’d whooped with laughter after jumping off the whirling merry-go-round, who hadn’t worried about possible twisting an ankle or breaking an arm.
The girl who wasn’t afraid to explore who she was and push the limits.
She came back to herself, realized that the gate agents had started boarding passengers. At Sir’s short nod, she stood, stretched, and grabbed her bag once more. The usual gate lice were blocking the path to the gangway, and she prepared to work her way through them until he put a hand on the back of her neck, squeezing gently.
She turned, eyes seeking his direction. He pulled her closer and said, “The bathroom’s right there. Go. You have fifteen minutes to give me two good edges.” Her eyes widened, but he only grinned. “As horny as you are, little slut, I have no doubt you can do it. And when you come back, your panties had better be dripping wet.”
She nodded and bit her lip, turning towards the restroom to comply with his demand, but he continued. “Get the hand you edge with good and wet. I want that gate agent to smell your pussy when you hand him your boarding pass.”
Oh god, did he have any idea of the effect it had on her when he said things like that? Her legs turned to jelly, for one thing, making it hard to move quickly. He was the devil incarnate. But he casually leaned against the wall, looking for all the world like any other man, parked near the gate and waiting for his partner to make a final pit stop.
She locked the stall door and sat down, unzipping her pants and pulling them to her ankles in a single jerky move. She’d never make it. Would he leave without her if she didn’t finish? For some reason, it didn’t even occur to her to lie or fake it. Instead, she pretended her fingers were his. She flipped through her mental gallery of images from last night, letting them fill her mind as her fingers glided over her clip.
Despite her anxiety, she found it surprisingly easy to get herself within aninch of a shattering orgasm, her body recalling only too well how it had felt last night to come at Sir’s bidding while he played her body, used what he knew about her neediness, her desires.
She stopped herself from taking things too far and took a shaky breath. The problem now wasn’t getting to a second edge, but keeping herself from going over it. She needed a break, a minute to recover herself, but she didn’t have it.
Blowing out a breath, she put her fingers back into her pussy, stroking her index finger in circles over her slick, throbbing clip. Then stroked faster. She had a sudden mental picture of herself spread atop the coffee table on New Years Eve, envisioning it as the man who’d delivered their room service order must have seen her: her ass facing the door, plugged with that humiliating puppy-dog tail.
God, no…she couldn’t stop herself. Her body tensed, fight to restrain the irresistible impulse, but that image pushed her relentlessly over. Even thoughshe’d stopped fingering herself, she felt her pussy spasm, feel the tightness release into that moment of blind energy. It was all the more shattering for being forbidden.
She bit back a moan of disappointment, then started when she heard a chuckle from the stall next to hers. “Damn, girl,” came a sickembodied female voice. “That must have been a good one.” Her shame at being overheard made her rush to dress again and Leave the restroom quickly.
Still, as she got to the door her footsteps lagged. She knew there was nothing to be done but go back out and find Sir. He was just where she’d left him, shifting his weight from the wall to stand upright when he saw her.
One look at her guilty face and she knew he realized the truth. She’d never make a poker player. She could almost swear she saw his eyes dance, but he gripped her arm firmly just above the elbow and propelled her towards the thinned-out line.
Her hand trembled as she reached in her purse and withdraw the boarding pass. He lifted her hand toward his face. He pretended to study the pass, but she saw his nostrils flare as a slight smile hovered on his lips. At least she hadn’t failed completely.
“Your perfume is delicious, little slut,” he said, almost inaudibly. “Look at you. So horny you can’t control yourself. Go on, it’s time to board.” She felt a little push forward.
The gate agent gave her a strange look as he scanned her pass. She hoped it was merely her flushed face and slightly disheveled hair that drew his attention. He couldn’t really smell her… could he? She kept her eyes down as he handed the pass back to her, saying brightly, “Have a nice flight!”
The flight. In all the kerfuffle, she’d nearly forgotten about it. But once she was onboard, struggling her bag in the remarkably empty overhead bin, her dread crept back. Only now it was mixed with the dread she felt at failing her task for Sir. In fact, that failure was uppermost in her mind.
They had seats together in a row of two near the front of the main cabin. Sir took the window seat, leaving her the aisle. She’d told him she felt even more nervous looking out the window while in flight. She slide her purse under the seat in front of her, then was surprised when he buckled the seatbelt around her waist tightly. It immediately made her think of being restrained for him. As he rested his hand on her knee, she felt a not-so-gentle squeeze, reminding her to wide her legs further.
His voice was at her ear again, his words making her hands ball into nervous fists. “So…you came without permission in the bathroom, didn’t you? What was it that pushed you over? What were you thinking of?”
She kept her eyes down, stammered her reply softly. “I was thinking of New Year’s Eve, Sir. Of b-being on the table and of how you m-made me wear that tail…in front of the….” Her voice was shaking so much that she could’t continue. Her mind was totally on him now. She didn’t even noticethe multiple bumps to her right should as the final passengers boarded the plane and proceeded cluelessly down the narrow aisle. He noticed it though, and pulled her closer to him, away from their careless behavior.
His large hand circled her wrist, one finger massaging her pulse point. He couldn’t suppress the amusement in his voice. “Why am I not surprised where your mind went for inspiration, pet? Your imagination is a Wonder. I only need to stir the eggs and you combat into flame. Such a needy little whore.”
Her eyes were still down, her hands still clinched. While his words stroked her, they also made her feel dirty…wanton…out of control. She walked a fine line with him at times. Even now she was only a few words or touches away from losing control altogether and letting him do whatever he wanted to her, even in public, even if it means begging him, baring her needs to others.
She stared at the large hand idly restraining her wrist. Another memory came fLoating back to her. She remembered the time, a few weeks ago, when he’d been remotely controlling the small vibrator he’d ordered her to wear over her clip while she was at work. And how close she’d come to losing it then, during a meeting. How close she’d been to doing something foolish. She shivered to think of it. She just needed to…exercise more control. But perversely, that was the last thing she’d wanted to do at that moment.
She let herself stay in that memory, let her body remember how it had felt to not care about anything, not worry about anything other than following his commands. She was skirting close to the edge again, without even touching herself.
Her hands gripped the armsrests hard, and she raised her head, letting out a huff of air. To her amazement, she realized they were airborne. She hadn’t even noticed the take-off — usually when she was the most terrified. She heard the landing gear retract, felt the plane rise then bank and turn. She counted to sixty, an old habit. If the plane was going to explode, it would do so within the first 60 seconds after lift-off. She’d read that somewhere. Or maybe just made it up to help allow her fears.
Blinking slowly, she looked at Sir. His pleased smile made her think that he’d orchestrated things just to keep her from focusing on the flight. And it had worked. She smiled back at him, a grateful smile that lit up her face.
For a moment, he let her rest her head on his shoulder and murmur, “Thank you, Sir.” Then he tweaked a lock of her hair and said, “I haven’t forgotten about that punishment, pet.”
She grinned at him cheekily. How bad could it be on a plane? Then a faith line worried her browser. Sir was nothing if not creative.
He let her mull it over until the “Fasten Seatbelts” sign was turned off. Then he reached into his small underseat bag and pulled something out. A leather strap. It looked a bit like a short leash, with a loop at both ends. She wondered what he hadin mind. She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
He put his hand to her hair, pulling her head close to his. This time there was no tenderness, just his firm control that made her want to melt into a punch.
“Ideally, I would get your collar out and put it around your disobedient neck, my little pet. But that might attract attention. Instead, I’m going to slip this around your wrist,” he took one of the leather loops and eased it over her hand, then pulled to tighten it. Her eyes widened and her pupils grew dark. “Consider yourself on a very short lean.” His eyes twinkled slightly at his own joke, even as he slipped the other end of the straw over his own wrist. There was only a short length of leather, a bit more than a foot, between them.
“Now, I want you to get up and walk towards the restrooms at the front of the plane. I’ll be right behind you.”
Her eyes widened further. “Sir…those restrooms are for first class passengers.”
He stood up and tuggedhard, so that she had no choice but to rise from her seat. “Don’t worry about that. If anyone stops us, let me talk.”
With his unfettered hand on her lower back, he half-pushed, half-guided her forward and up the aisle.
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