The Control Strap Page 11

As he strolled back to the cockpit, she heard him say to Sanders, “Nice one, Tom. You sure can pick ‘em."

  Brenda managed to pick up the dustpan and broom, and got all the way back to the galley with no further interruptions. She emptied the pan and, with a sense of relief, she found her seat and plopped down.

  "OW!” she whined. Note to self, she thought, sit down slowly after a paddling.

  She was grateful that no one seemed to notice her absence for a while. She sank back into the seat cushion as her sore bottom cooled to a warm simmer. But it was impossible to sit still with the strap constantly teasing her. She squirmed and tried to stifle her moans as she waited to be called into the cabin again.

  Eventually Lindsay appeared to get her prepared. Soon Brenda's arms were bound behind her again, the tray was attached to her belt and loaded with expensive snacks, and her gag was tethered to the ceiling track.

  Thankfully, her next attempt at serving went more smoothly than the first. It seemed the men had gotten their fill of abusing her and were content with playing with the other girls. And this time Brenda was more than happy to be ignored.

  It wasn't much longer when she felt the familiar change in the plane's attitude that signaled their descent had started. Sanders told the others that the hors d'oeuvre tray was now closed. Lindsay appeared and led Brenda back to the galley. She untied her and together they stowed the food and drinks. Then Lindsay strapped her in her seat and headed up front again. After she left, Brenda sat alone, wondering when the other girls would join her.

  From up front, she heard Sanders make another announcement. “As we make our approach into Dulles, I'd just like to remind you gentlemen that certain items on board are available for purchase. If you are interested, please let me know right away."

  "Yes, I am interested."

  Brenda leaned forward. It was the Sheik who had spoken up.

  "I'm honored, your Excellency. Which of our fine products—"

  "That one!"

  Suddenly, Brenda found herself staring straight into the Sheik's eyes. He was pointing back at her!

  CHAPTER 13: SENT TO THE SHOWERS

  Brenda stared back at the Sheik. Even if she hadn't been gagged, she would've been speechless. She didn't want to go with him—she didn't want to go with anyone—but she knew she had no control over the situation. Numbly, she merely shook her head, no.

  "But, your Excellency,” said Sanders, “Number Ten is not—"

  "Yes, yes. I know she is not listed. Nevertheless, that is the one I want."

  "I'm afraid that's impossible."

  The Sheik took his eyes off Brenda and glared back at Sanders. The silence was long and stony. Brenda held her breath. But at least she knew she was not intended to be sold that day.

  Presently the Sheik blinked and forced an awkward laugh. “Mr. Sanders, I believe one of the axioms of business is that the customer is always right. Is this not true?"

  "When operating within the bounds of the business, yes. But I have a business model that works and I do not stray from it for anyone. Number Ten is not for sale today."

  "This is outrageous! What is this slut to you?"

  "What is she to you?"

  "How dare you speak to me this way!"

  Sanders took a deep breath. “Sir,” he began, “I've heard that you raise thoroughbreds, is this true?"

  "Yes, but what do horses have to do with this?"

  "Bear with me for a moment. At any given time, you have a stable of horses that you offer for sale. But you also have some that are still being trained, plus a few that you keep for your private use."

  "Yes, yes. This is true."

  "Would you sell one of your untrained horses? Without even knowing if the horse will perform as intended?"

  "Of course not!"

  "It is the same here. Number Ten is not yet ready to be sold, and I will not sell her at this time for any price."

  The Sheik thought about this and slowly nodded. “Very well then. I understand the reason for your obstinacy. I do not agree with it, but I understand it. Women are not horses."

  "To me,” said Sanders, “they are. Perhaps you'd like one of the girls who are for sale?"

  To Brenda, the Sheik appeared almost to pout for moment, before shrugging and saying, “I supposed I did enjoy getting to know Number Fifteen. But I demand a discount as I am settling for second choice."

  "Your Excellency, I'm sure we can work out satisfactory terms before we're on the ground. But first,” he raised his voice, addressing the rest of the men on the plane, “can I interest anyone else in one of our fine products?"

  The Senator bellowed at once, “Not me, Sanders! Y'all know I got my hands full already with those three girlfriends.” Then he added as an afterthought, “And the wife, too."

  All three of the younger men hemmed and hawed. “Not on my salary,” said one of the two whose names Brenda hadn't heard.

  "Where would I keep her?” said the other.

  Jeremy added at last, “Well, if I was going to buy a girl today, I'd be trying to outbid his Excellency for Number Ten."

  "Ha!” snorted the Senator. “We all know how long you'd last in that contest, boy."

  "Exactly!” agreed Jeremy, jovially. “I'd have better luck just stealing her."

  As Brenda watched, Sanders sat next to the Sheik and the two men began talking in low voices. As the negotiations commenced, Lindsay worked on freeing the other three girls from whatever restraint they had ended up in.

  "Actually,” continued Jeremy, as if thinking out loud, “what's to stop someone from stealing one of these girls?"

  "In your case, boy,” laughed the Senator, “I can think of a certain prissy missy of yours."

  "Seriously,” persisted the younger man. “This entire enterprise must be of questionable legality (and mum's the word and all that) but Mr. Sanders couldn't very well alert the authorities if one of his girls just disappeared, could he?"

  At that, Sanders looked up and regarded Jeremy with a steely stare. “Remember the comparison to horse trading I just made, young man? Well ... they used to hang horse thieves, didn't they?"

  Jeremy said nothing more, but cast a single glance back toward Brenda. His expression sent a chill down her spine.

  However, by the time the plane leveled off for its final approach, she had put the look out of her mind. She could tell that the sale of Number Fifteen had been successfully completed when Sanders and the Sheik shook hands and exchanged signatures on documents. At once, the two men became engaged in an animated discussion. No doubt about their women, thought Brenda.

  She paid little attention to it, though. Her mind was preoccupied with what was about to happen, what the signatures represented. She looked around at the other three girls who had returned to their seats after Lindsay untied them.

  All of them again wore gags, but she had a feeling they would be sitting in silence in any event. In addition to their gags, Lindsay and Jackie had also put on their “public” flight attendant uniforms. They were the only ones normally dressed.

  The other four girls now sat perfectly still, staring straight ahead, hands folded in laps. And all four pairs of legs were held parallel, knees together smartly in front with lower legs at a slight angle off to the side.

  Brenda assumed a similar posture, but kept her eyes lowered, trying to keep from gawking at Jackie. She couldn't help thinking that the sold flight attendant was “doomed” and that it was somehow Brenda's fault. She worried that the other girls would see it that way as well, and blame her for the dubious distinction of being the Sheik's first choice and the fact that Sanders had forced him to “settle” for Number Fifteen.

  Yet, when she finally did glance up, Brenda saw that Sammie and Amy weren't glaring angrily at her. In fact, they weren't looking at her at all. They were looking at Jackie, with what appeared to be ... envy.

  But wait, thought Brenda. I'm the one they should be jealous of. I was Sheik's first choice, not Jackie! But more importantly,
I was the one who had lucked out of the certain hell of living in some kind of Arabian harem. She could only wonder at what was going through the other girls’ minds.

  Soon, the plane was on the ground. Lindsay unbuckled herself and headed for the front of the plane. Brenda couldn't see her, but the sounds of the aircraft's hatch being opened were unmistakable.

  Sanders appeared then. He had lit up one of his cigars, and exhaled a puff of smoke straight at Jackie. “Number Fifteen. The Sheik is waiting for you."

  Jackie nodded and stood. She took out her gag and began to follow along behind Sanders. As they disappeared toward the front of the plane, Brenda heard him tell her, “Your new Master has already picked out a name for you. You're to be ‘Jamileh’ which means ‘excellent talents'."

  "It's a lovely name, sir,” said Jackie. And then their voices passed out of hearing.

  A few minutes went by in silence, and Brenda assumed the five men had all deplaned. Soon, she expected the door would close and they would return to Dallas.

  But suddenly, the Sheik loomed over her again. He ignored the other girls and stared straight at Brenda. His face remained impassive as his eyes roamed up and down her latex-clad body. She met his gaze, but only for a moment, before averting her eyes downward, unable to bear his unflinching scrutiny. Her hands, already folded in her lap, trembled as she clasped them tighter together, directing all her anxiousness into a white-knuckled grip.

  At last, he spoke. “Your owner shall have his chance to finish training you, Bahar-banoo. But after that ... You shall be mine."

  And then he was gone just as suddenly as he had appeared.

  Brenda exhaled and relaxed her hands allowing the tremor to spread throughout her body. She was still shivering when Lindsay and Mr. Sanders returned.

  "What did he say to you, Ten?"

  Brenda began to mumble a response.

  "Take out the gag."

  "Sorry!” She unbuckled the strap and pried the ball from her mouth. “He said I would be his after you finished ... training me."

  "Hm."

  "Oh, and he called me something. ‘Bahar-banoo’ or something like that.” She looked around at Amy and Sammie for confirmation. They nodded their agreement with what she had heard.

  Sanders reached in his pocket and pulled out a small, dog-eared phrase book and began flipping through it. “Well,” he said, “if you heard him right, and if I'm looking up the right phrase, I think he called you a ‘blooming princess'.” He chuckled to himself and then turned to go back to the main cabin.

  "Mr. Sanders, wait!” called Brenda. “Please, sir, you wouldn't really—I mean, if he makes you an offer later, I won't really have to ... go with him, will I?

  He regarded her coolly. “When you're properly trained, Number Ten, you won't even ask that question."

  Brenda sat back, feeling stunned. She grabbed her gag and put it back on, thankful for something to stifle the whimpering she felt building inside her. She couldn't imagine ever going off meekly like Jackie had.

  Soon, the plane pushed back and their return flight was underway.

  The flight back to Dallas was less than uneventful. They had no clients on board, and Mr. Sanders was preoccupied the whole time, pecking away at a laptop and making frequent calls. The four remaining flight attendants had nothing to do but sit and stare at the others’ gagged faces for a couple of hours. It made Brenda almost wistful for her position as human serving tray.

  When they finally began their descent, Lindsay removed her gag and started dressing in her “public” uniform again, putting it on right over her form-fitting latex dress. Amy and Sammie quickly followed suit, and Brenda did likewise.

  The landing was routine, and Brenda soon found herself headed for the front exit. As she passed the cockpit door, the pilot stepped forward to block her path.

  "I'll be seeing you again soon, Ten,” he said with a wink.

  "I—I don't know what you mean.” No one had said anything to her about another flight yet.

  "Showers,” he said.

  She stared at him blankly, but he merely winked again, offering no further explanation. Then he let her pass. The limo was waiting for Sanders and the girls and returned them to the building where Haller Airline was headquartered. As she walked to the elevator with the other girls, Brenda considered how much had happened since she first entered this building less than twenty four hours before.

  Sanders joined the girls in the elevator and they all got off at the level with the simulator and the small living rooms. When Brenda stepped off the elevator, she headed down the hall to go to her room.

  "Not so fast, Ten,” said Sanders. “Showers first. You're a proper mess after the flight."

  "Oh, okay,” she said, “I'll shower as soon as I get back to my room.” As she spoke, she barely noticed how naturally she referred to it as “her” room.

  "Think again, Number Ten. Did you see a tub or shower stall in ‘your’ bathroom?"

  Brenda's mind raced back to the awkward moments she had spent there peeing while Sanders stared at her. She had scarcely noticed anything else, but now that he mentioned it, she could not recall anything other than the toilet and sink.

  "So where—"

  "This way,” he said, waving her along.

  She followed Sanders and the other girls to another room down a different hallway. Just inside the doorway was a walk-in closet with a large assortment of empty clothes hangers. The other girls got busy at once doffing their uniforms and latex dresses and hanging them up carefully.

  Brenda shrugged and followed their lead. As she did so, Lindsay took a key that hung from a hook on the wall, unlocked her own control strap and passed the key to Amy. When they were all completely nude, Lindsay passed around ball-gags, which the girls strapped on themselves, and then they filed out of the closet.

  The rest of the large room was bare, with a rough concrete floor. Along the far wall Brenda saw that the floor was lined with drains beneath a row of showerheads. There were also several faucets with hoses attached.

  Interspersed among the showerheads were pairs of chains that dangled from the ceiling and ended in brass cuffs. In one corner she saw a pile of metal bars, about two feet long, with cuffs at each end. And in another corner were several buckets filled with sponges, and shelves with various bottles of shampoo and body wash, and racks of towels.

  Brenda stood, bewildered, as the other three girls set about purposefully. First they each grabbed a spreader bar and positioned themselves under a showerhead. They stooped down and clicked the cuffs around their ankles so their legs were held open. Then they reached up and slipped the cuffs that hung from the ceiling around their wrists.

  "What are you waiting for, Ten?” asked Sanders strolling up behind her.

  She turned and found herself staring at a buck-naked Tom Sanders. For some reason, the sight stunned her more than anything else that day. Not that he looked bad. In fact, for a middle-aged man, he looked pretty good. He'd obviously taken care of himself and it showed. She just couldn't imagine what he was up to.

  "Get yourself in position, Ten. The others showed you what's expected."

  "Y—Yes, sir,” she said, as she turned to select one of the spreader bars. Working the cuffs was no problem and she soon had herself locked in position next to Lindsay.

  She couldn't help staring again at Sanders as he unreeled one of the hoses and turned on the water. His cock, which had been flaccid when she first saw him, was stiffening up quickly. By the time he had the temperature adjusted the way he wanted it, his cock was fully erect, long and thick and angled slightly skyward.

  Without saying another word, he turned to Brenda, grinned, and then aimed the hose straight at her.

  "Oh!” she squealed as warm water sprayed against her chest. With her arms trapped overhead and her legs spread by the bar, she could only stand there and let the water drench her.

  He raised the hose and soaked her face and hair, walking around her to get her from
all angles. Then he adjusted the stream to a more forceful setting and directed the flow downward. The jet of water hit her in the small of her back, then her anus, and then, as he circled around front again, it hit her directly in her pussy.

  "Ohhh!” she sighed as he switched the nozzle to a pulse setting. Her eyes flew wide as she felt a sudden rush building inside her. If he kept this up, she'd be putty in seconds!

  Too soon, he turned from her and directed the stream at Lindsay. In turn, he drenched all three of the other girls in similar fashion. At last, he turned on the overhead showerheads, sending a steady rain down upon his moaning girls.

  Sputtering and dazed, Brenda watched Sanders retrieve one of the sponges and a couple of bottles of body wash and shampoo. Again he started with her. First he turned off the flow of water above her, leaving the others on. Then he began lathering up her hair and body. It didn't take long for him to have her entire body covered with white bubbles and foam.

  Brenda clenched her eyes tight to keep the soap out. She felt Sanders’ hands all over her, massaging the suds in with sponge and bare fingers. He was meticulously thorough. From the tips of her raised fingers to her ticklish underarms. From her neck and shoulders, down her heaving chest to her belly. From the juncture or her thighs down to the balls of her feet.

  Then she felt him behind her. He pressed his wet body against hers and reached around to caress her soap-slicked breasts. She felt his rigid cock probing between her thighs. He began a gentle thrusting motion, as though fucking her.

  Sighing, she felt his right hand descend to her waist as his left continued teasing her tits. Then he reached down even further. His fingers parted her lower lips, already swollen and throbbing with anticipation. A single glancing touch of her clit almost sent her over the edge and she moaned loudly, bucking against him.

  His left hand abandoned her breasts and joined his right below. He began stroking his shaft between her legs with one hand while teasing her clit with the other. She heard his breaths quicken and she moaned again, urging him on.

  Suddenly, a male voice, not Sanders, intruded upon her excitement.