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EMB 120 Brasilia – by Jamie – 2114 words about fetishes.

Nothing in this story is non-consensual, and nobody is ever left restrained and unattended. All participants are well over 18 years of age.

Bloomington Minnesota – 1995

Lisa and I, Jamie, had just awakened fifteen stories in the air, in a hotel room overlooking the beautiful Interstate 494 – Highway 100 cloverleaf, and the city of Edina beyond it. We took the elevator down fourteen floors and had breakfast before returning to our room and our captive. We were nice, we brought her some fresh cantaloupe, orange juice and vanilla yogurt.

When we returned to the adjoining room through the connecting door, Kelli was still blindfolded, gagged and tied to the bed frame where we had last seen her. Scott was having a terrific time teasing her, getting her close to coming, then slowing down and watching her pussy try in vain to find the fingers that had been making love to it moments before. It was a game she really likes, although she professes not to.

Kelli had a morning routine, and she was very high maintenance. But that did not matter to us, because Scott would be attending to her needs. Lisa and I just sat back and watched the show, while we played with each other’s pussies and each other’s nipple rings through our underwear. We were quite the foursome.

Scott got Kelli ready for work, we had a nine-thirty AM departure from Minneapolis’ Wold-Chamberlain Field, known in the business as MSP. Our aircraft was an Embraer 120 Brasilia, two turboprops, two pilots, two flight attendants, a galley, bathroom and eleven rows of two by one passenger seating. It was safe, quiet, smooth and all in all – rather boring.

MSP is located on the site of historic Fort Snelling, where in 1862 Union military commanders took advantage of the ongoing insurrection down south to nullify previously signed treaties with the Sioux. They launched a punitive military expedition against them, relocated them and ultimately hung their leaders as “rebels,” something they chose not to do to Senator Davis. But then Jeff Davis didn’t own real-estate that the railroads wanted either.

We would be flying all over the upper midwest today before “dying,” going off duty due to duty hour restrictions, at Truax Field in Madison Wisconsin. There, we had reservations at the Edgewater, a swanky 1940s high rise hotel on the shores of Lake Mendota, just a few blocks from the University docks the rowing teams used. Scott and Kelli were our flight attendants.

We had a deal, we made sure they got assigned together, and we got to watch. They enjoyed having an audience, and our watching them was certain to get us preheated for a bit of one-on-one baking in the adjoining room. It was so funny how clueless most people were. At work Scott was seen as the John Ritter character from ‘Three’s Company.’ People think all male flight attendants are gay. Scott and Kelli were totally hetero and totally ‘D and s, M and f.’ Lisa and I were casino siteleri the ‘gay’ ones.

Lisa and I put our hoodies on as we sat on the second bed nearer the window. Scott escorted Kelli, wearing wrist cuffs clipped together so that she cannot touch herself, from the bathroom where he had just showered her. He has the air conditioner on as low as it will go in the room because it makes Kelli’s pink pencil eraser nipples hard and stand free from her breasts. Big beautiful breasts with last evenings red flogger markings still visible on her alabaster skin.

Scott has her lie down face up on the other bed, and he gently rubs the mentholated shaving cream on Kelli’s mound and labia. He is going to shave her. Scott inserts two fingers into her vagina, and pulling up with those fingers starts to shave her. But Kelli is trying to squirm, and get a little stimulation.

“Be still,” Scott said grinning, “we wouldn’t want to cut anything important off of us by mistake.”

He got her mound done but she was wiggling around so much that he withdrew his fingers and asked us to hold her legs. He finished up on her labia with us holding her still. He motioned for us to move closer to her head, bending her in half, as he checked the rubber butt plug she was wearing. Finally, he used a thin cane to deliver five good strong strokes across her buttocks.

We released Kelli. Scott, holding her cuffed hands above her head, led her gagged and blindfolded to the bathroom. He stopped and carefully guided her so that she might sit upon the toilet. The bathroom was small, and we did not watch them in there, although we could hear every sound. Scott removed Kelli’s butt-plug, so that she could release the enemas he had given her earlier, half-an-hour or more ago, before we went to breakfast.

We had seen her little belly bulge when she was tied to the bed, and when she was being shaved. We knew what it felt like, and knew it came as a wonderful relief when she was able to empty herself. I don’t think a master electrician could map our human circuitry. How something could both stimulate and hurt going in; push hard on you and feel good while being retained; then make you cramp and hurt coming back out. All the while making you totally euphoric, possibly even orgasm, as I think Kelli just did from listening to her.

Scott removed Kelli’s blindfold and gag. He kissed her, cleaned her, and comforted her, before leading her out of the bathroom, with her hands over her head to get dressed. It’s part of their ritual. Kelli may never-ever touch herself. Scott unclipped her cuffs, handing one to each of us as we sit on either side of her. Scott went to her suitcase and returned with several tubes, bottles and a jar.

He rubs a soothing medicinal salve on her breasts with their day old red marks, and on the new red marks on her buttocks.

“We are just going to make you glow,” he said, as he started working on his masterpiece. “A little hydrating eye cream, a good lip balm, canlı casino and a hydrating primer.”

Looking at me, he said, “Kelli here really benefits from the oil-reducing qualities of this primer.”

“You know, Scott, it’s really hard to believe you aren’t gay,” I said.

Scott winked and blew me a kiss at me as he continued. “We’ll do our brows and our eyes before putting on a nice foundation, that way I can clean up underneath.”

“Yeah,” said Lisa, “he knows more about makeup than I do.”

“That’s a really low bar,” Scott said, smiling and turning to my lover. “Kelli here never has to worry about mascara smudges. Next we work on our foundation, and blending everything all together overall. Then we just put a little bit of color on our cheeks, and pop!”

“Yeah,” said Lisa, “worries about smudges keep me up at night. Who is this ‘we’ you keep referring to?”

“Don’t you want to know,” Scott said. “We just do a little powder to make everything last, and our lipstick is always last. I know we will have to reapply it later.”

“Damn,” Lisa said, admiring his work.

We have seen it before, but Scott’s artistry never failed to amaze us. Kelli looked like she just had a professional makeup artist prepare her for a film shoot.

Scott went to Kelli’s suitcase and retrieved her ‘plug’ panties. Made of thick black rubber, they had two phalluses on the inside. We three stood, and Scott got on his knees, and slid them up Kelli’s legs. Kelli placed her hands palms down atop her head, and Lisa held them both down with her hand. I held Kelli to keep her from falling, while Scott worked her two rubber ‘husbands’ into her front and back doors.

Scott went back to the suitcase and retrieved another heavy black rubber undergarment. Kelli moaned as her bra, which was a size too small, was fitted squishing her bruised breasts. Once it was in place, and cinched tight there would be no stimulation possible to those big beautiful pink nipples.

A fourth trip to the suitcase yielded a pair of dark blue nylon uniform stockings, which Scott carefully put on Kelli’s shapely legs. Two thick rubber bands fit around her thighs to hold the stockings up. Those bands attached to a rubber girdle of sorts, that severely constrained the size of her gait when walking

It was really only noticeable in the terminal building, a very few pilots and other flight attendants knew, and smiled as she passed by. But most people are self-involved and don’t even notice. Once on the airplane her short gait was assumed to be related to the smallness of available aisle space, and her desire to remain balanced. Ha, ha, as if any of us were balanced.

Finally Scott retrieved Kelli’s dark blue uniform dress, it was tight, just big enough to cover her black rubber undergarments. We called down to the front desk, as Scott put Kelli’s one inch higher than uniform height flawlessly polished blue pumps on her feet. They kissed passionately, as Lisa and I grabbed our kaçak casino hats, uniform jackets, Jepp cases suitcases and the like. They followed with Scott carrying her case.

Unable to locate a cart, Kelli has an easier time hobbling towards the elevators in heels while securely plugged in her most intimate places that we did hauling all of our luggage downstairs. We signed out of the hotel, and climbed on board the little shuttle bus for the airport. Being the only four passengers, I held Lisa’s hand and watched Kelli basically crawl on top of Scott. I thought back on what we missed this morning, choosing instead to get a little more sleep.

On duty Scott and Kelli are the epitome of professional and competent, so we choose to fly with them a lot. We have seen and been a part of their antics for a few years now. This morning Lisa and I snuggled and listened to the live sex show on the ‘open door radio network’ without getting out of the comfy bed.

Scott had opened the connecting door and had taken Kelli to the bathroom to pee. Kelly sleeps with these oven-mitt-type anti-masturbation gloves buckled on her so she can’t touch herself. Scott walked her to the commode. She sat and peed, and Scott pulled down his pajamas so that she could give him a ‘start the day out right’ blow job as she sat on the toilet.

Then they stepped into the shower. Kelli cannot touch herself, but when she is ‘good…’

That is one of the things Lisa and I find weird, no not phallus panties, faux punishment. If I want to give Lisa five hard swats with the riding crop across her mound, I just say it. And since she loves me, and it’s fun she says “yes” and we do it. None of this “you’ve been bad and must be punished nonsense. Heck, if we went that route, I would be doing “bad” stuff constantly just to get “punished.”

So most of the time Kelli is ‘good’ and gets to bathe Scott. Then Scott bathes Kelli, taking care to edge her and not let her come. He takes his time and gets the best products and really makes love with her hair in the shower. If Scott ever gives up being a flight-attendant he would make a great beautician.

After hair care it was enema time. Still in the shower Kelli would place her palms on the back of the shower enclosure, butt in the air, and legs spread wide. Scott would lubricate and then gently fuck her with the nozzle as he slid it into her ass. They had a two quart red rubber bag and Scott always used distilled water with four spoons of kosher salt to avoid absorption.

He would hang the bag on the towel bar and lovingly massage Kelli’s ass and belly as she slowly filled. Once she was as full as she was getting, he would carefully remove the nozzle and push her butt-plug in to retain the salt water. Then he would walk her out to the bed, put her ankle cuffs on and tie her securely to the four corners of the bed.

That is where we came in this morning, we had showered, and we walked over to see if they wanted anything from the buffet downstairs. Kelli had her blindfold on, and Scott was kneeling astride her head. Scott answered for her, as she had his erect penis somewhere between her mouth and throat and was humming as she sucked him and he fucked her face.

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