But these girls, much like the jet itself, were something else.
As mentioned, each girl had fabulous long hair, thick and shiny and vibrant, clear results of absolute dedication to a diet without ever once wavering. That same dedication was shown in their bodies—tight, toned, and fabulously built, each with heavy tits that were easily 36C at the smallest cup size. Their faces were made-up perfectly, their heels so tall as to be impractical in a machine moving at hundreds of miles per hour.
It was a good thing the cabin of the jet was tall as well as wide. Only the two doting on Albert had the berets and the boots—the others wore standard tall platform heels, and had their hair arranged in sweeping waves and curled locks.
It gave her great pleasure to place her fur coat down upon taking her seat, disrobing slowly and just tantalizingly enough to let Albert know that it was for effect. Her dress underneath was short and blue, a deep scooping neckline revealing the heavenly display of her incomparable cleavage. She’d been named most beautiful woman by all the relevant magazines for the past four years, ever since she had turned eighteen—and she’d been voted in overwhelming for best cleavage by all the men’s magazines.
The ones that couldn’t convince her to do a spread for them—or couldn’t pay her requisite amounts—settled for using candid photos of her snatched up by paparazzi. Even the presence of those low-quality images when Catriana wasn’t deliberately posing for enticement drove sales up more than five hundred percent.
And so it was no surprise to her that Albert’s eyes were taken off the lovely forms of the beauties huddled against him to watch, instead, Catriana slowly take her seat. She took her time, letting her ass float one direction and then the next, before finally settling down and crossing her legs. Slowly, she reclined. Soft music immediately began to emit from the speakers. The tune was pleasant but she couldn’t quite recognize it. She toyed slightly with the heavy diamonds resting on her breasts, drawing Albert's eyes.
She controlled him—his every thought, his every movement—and she loved it
The other girls closed up the jet and Catriana was stunned to find out, moments before take off, that the lithe booted lovelies adoring Albert as he made himself comfortable in his seat—with a rather obvious bulge in his pants—were the fucking pilots of the jet.
They stood up, smooching him heavily on the cheek and then across the mouth, his hands crawling up between the cracks of their asses, and then they strutted up toward the cockpit and sat down.
“Strap in, everyone,” the pilot giggled over the intercom. “We’ll be taking off in a just a few! Next stop, Ferova!”
Three more girls were left in the cabin. They strapped themselves in near to their boss—or at least Catriana assumed he was their boss—as the plane took off.
Marcus sat near to Catriana, but not too near. The two of them had been forced to have more than one discussion about Catriana’s personal space and the restrictions she had on anyone breaking her bubble—even her bodyguard. If he wanted to continue to jack off every night at the thought of how close he was to her, how good she smelled, how angelic she sounded when she spoke, then he would behave and not come any closer to her than was necessary.
Besides, this Albert Stout was clearly not a threat. Some kind of fucking pimp, from the looks of things, and clearly a successful one, but not someone that Catriana had to worry about. He had a computer in his hands and was typing furiously at it.
The three girls, who had been adoring him only moments before, now obediently sat to one side, smiling prettily and waiting for his command. They were pregnant, Catriana realized slowly. It had been hard to tell at first—they were otherwise so slender, their uniforms cut just so. But yes, the bulges were there, like they had each swallowed a large cantaloupe whole. Their eyes watched Albert's every movement, small pink tongues flicking across their lips, keeping them wet and ready.
Catriana raised an eyebrow at that. He certainly had them trained, didn’t he?
That music was still playing. It was pleasant enough, but the speakers were in her ears, and she didn't know that she wanted to listen to something she had no control over for the entire twelve-hour jet ride.
“Here now,” said Catriana. “Would you mind having your captain turn the music down?”
Albert didn't look up—in fact, he only typed more furiously, his tongue sliding up on one corner of his lip.
The soft music trailing out from the speakers in her seat got a little louder. Catriana opened her mouth to protest again, and then stopped. There was something in the song, something familiar, like a memory of a great song from her childhood. She tried to focus on it. It was hard, but it was also important...
The music was nice. Relaxing, in a way. She felt the tension leaving her jaw and then her fingers. The rest of her body began to follow. It was a good tune, though she couldn’t quite follow it all the way.
She forgot all about wanting to turn the music down. Why would she want it turned down? The tune was so nice.
Catriana decided, in fact, that she was rather less worried about this Stout fellow now that she knew he had such beautiful women in his employ. It made more sense now why he would ask to give her a ride. He was clearly an appreciator of beauty, of art, and there wasn’t a single living life form on Earth who was a greater example of the art of beauty than Catriana.
She was living Beauty—the very corporeal form of an abstract. There was no comparison.
Yes, that made sense.
This song was so nice.
The jet lifted off easily into the air and quickly steadied out, gaining speed. For all their apparent bimbo-like qualities, the pilots he had hired were quite good. There was no turbulence, no shaking, no uncomfortable moment when she thought she might die (which she got about half the time in jets, being on them so constantly for photo shoots).
The soft music continued. One of the pregnant beauties stood up and walked over to Catriana. She was blonde and very busty. No doubt her tits were filled with life-giving milk, just like the other girls. She had on a nametag that read “Mandy!” Her face was lovely, easily model-worthy, although—Catriana noticed with a certain amount of pleasure—not the kind of model that Catriana was. Still, lovely though.
Mandy dropped to her knees next to Catriana and opened the small fridge there, pulling out a drink and offering it to the supermodel. Catriana had every intention of saying no—she didn’t need the carbs, after all—but once it was in her hands she found it hard to say no.
Seeing Mandy on her knees—so beautiful, so sweet and soft and busty—was an image even the stoically abstinent Catriana had trouble ignoring. A soft heat began to warm her chest, and she felt her nipples pushing against the thin layer of her hot blue dress. The soft music pulsed pleasantly into her ears, and suddenly her throat and mouth felt rather parched.
The blonde waited, her breasts heaving in her tiny outfit.
“It’s very yummy,” said Mandy. “You’ll just love it, I know. He puts his best drinks on this jet.”
Catriana was quite used to being impolite. It gave her a thrill to completely destroy social moors and do whatever she liked, no matter what other people happened to think. The thoughts of other people concerned as much as did the geometry of ant colonies.
And yet, suddenly, Catriana felt it terribly important to be polite. At least polite enough to take a sip. The drink was orange and tangy, with a hint of something alcoholic. Something very alcoholic.
“Oh, my,” she said, taking another sip. “Yes. That’s good, isn’t it?”
Taking a sip was so easy. Sippy sip sip. Have some sips, then lick your lips. Sippy sip sip.
Her thoughts were fuzzy and mercurial, hard to track. More of them than usual, but all so faint...so insistent. Somehow, Mandy already had another in her hand. Catriana looked down at her drink, and was a bit surprised to see that it was gone.
Apparently her “sips” were somewhat more than than standard. The liquid was smooth and hard, and
had gone down easily. Her toned tummy blossomed with warmth. She settled further into her seat and took the drink from Mandy’s hand. Her nipples grew even more erect, tenting in her dress. She didn't care. Let them see—her body was phenomenal.
Yes, this was rather nice, wasn’t it? This was the kind of treatment someone like her deserved. Oh yes.
She was being treated perfectly. She knew this for a fact.
“I’d love to know more about your business,” she called across the cabin to Albert. Her voice was soft and pleasant—the tone she reserved for those she viewed more as equals. Though not quite equal—obviously, there was no such thing for her.
He was only about seven feet away, and so clearly heard her. And yet he remained busy on his computer, one girl pressed against his body on the side. She seemed to be slinking slowly downward, as if unable to stop herself from sliding to her knees before him. Her hand pushed heavily on his crotch, where a bulge formed, thick and growing larger.
“I said,” Catriana raised her voice, “that I would love to know more about your business. You’ve clearly done well for yourself.”
Albert nodded, waving a hand dismissively. This angered her immediately—no one dismissed her—but there was a sudden pulse of music from the speakers and she sat back down, enjoying the fun, happy rhythm.
He hadn't dismissed her. His business merely wasn't interesting. Why would it be interesting to someone like her? She was so important, after all. So beautiful. She didn't need to think about business.
Much more important than business was this song.
There were...lyrics? She could swear she could hear them. They were just beyond comprehension. It was strange, because she could hear the sound perfectly. It was just the lyrics that were soft. The balance was off, somehow. She ought to tell him about it.
She sighed, taking another drink. It had emptied again, and Mandy was right there to give her another.
Later, she decided. She would tell him later, after this lovely song. And then she would demand that he play it again.
And then, he would answer all her questions about his...whatever. His stuff and things.
Screens floated down from the top of the cabin, unfolding on robotic arms in front of Catriana and Marcus. She noticed for the first time that the third beauty had been attending her bodyguard—giving him drinks of his own. He wasn’t supposed to be drinking on duty. She raised an eyebrow in alarm.
The music pulsed again.
Oh, well. She shrugged, settling back into her seat. It was just an airplane ride. Nothing could go wrong, certainly.
Sip, sip. Have another sip, let the good times rip. The drink tasted so fucking good. She crossed and uncrossed her legs elaborately, catching Albert's eye. She drank in his quick gaze, her emerald eyes flashing into his.
That's right, she thought. Look at me. Look at how fucking hot I am. I know you'll jerk your stupid cock to me later. I know you won't be able to help yourself. You'll fuck these other women rotten but you'll be thinking of me.
Mandy smiled, leaning over. She really had excellent cleavage. Catriana felt a pulse of arousal from looking at the thick, twin globes pressing so hotly together. It had been so long since she had felt heat like that. She lost herself int the sensation, not even bothering to look Mandy in the eyes as she spoke.
“There’s an in-flight movie for you to watch,” said Mandy. Her voice was soft, like a warm flannel blanket. “Something that explains what Mister Stout’s business is about, like you asked. He wants to answer your questions and be polite, but he has so much work to do. You understand, of course.”
“Of course,” Catriana said softly. Understanding was so easy to do. She could understand anything. The screen began to flicker and twitch, and with Mandy standing up, milk-filled cleavage out of view, she found her eyes drawn to it.
What a nice man. Of course he’d explain what his business was about. Catriana had asked, after all, and she was very important. No one could deny what she wanted.
A light show began on the screen. There were spirals. And spirals turning into shapes. And shapes...shapes forming words, forming thoughts...
Relax.
Catriana felt warm and happy, relaxed, transfixed by the display on the screen.
Empty.
Her mind felt so empty. So ready to be filled. In fact, she felt—
Vacant.
Yes. The hotel was open, but no one was in the rooms. There was so much free space, so much empty space waiting to be filled, and Catriana could just sit back and watch those swirling, twirling, pretty lights, so pretty, and—
Relax. Empty. Vacant.
Just like that. So easy.
Relaxemptyvacant. Relaxemptyvacant. Relaxemptyvacant. Relaxemptyvacant. Relaxemptyvacant.
Yes it was so nice, there. So utterly perfect, just like her. It was—
Relaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacantrelaxemptyvacant
The drink fell from her twitching, limp hands, but Mandy, such a good girl, was there to catch it.
* * * * *
Slowly, Catriana began to wake. Or rather, she didn't wake so much as she simply became more aware. Consciousness streamed in slowly, a slow-moving assembly line of thoughts and sensations bringing her out of the void. There was drool on her lip and she wiped it away. Her dress was askew, and she tried to re-position herself into a more elegant posture.
There were soft, urgent sucking noises filling the cabin. Eyes flickering, she saw one of Albert's servants, a brilliantly hot brunette, on her knees in front of him.
She was sucking him off. It was totally clear to Catriana. The girl's mouth worked up and down his long shaft, and she moaned, her pregnant belly bouncing up and down on his lap. Soft droplets of liquid-shiny long brunette hair draped around her face, his crotch, as she moaned up and down his incredible rod.
Catriana lurched forward, trying to protest. This was unreasonable behavior. This was insanity!
And yet...her pussy was so fucking wet.
Why was her pussy so fucking wet?
How had she gotten so turned on—more turned on than she could ever remember being in her life?
Albert seemed to notice her waking up. He pulled the brunette’s head against his dick, twitching, red flush around his neck and cheeks, clearly shooting his thick, heavy load down her throat. The other girls, noticing Catriana’s wakefulness, stepped forward in front of the scene and leaned over to check on her.
Their pregnant tits flooded her vision, and for some reason, the heat in her pussy only increased. Saliva, unbidden, began to fill her mouth, resting like floodwaters behind the luscious dam of her puffy lips.
Mandy and Zofia. Those were their names, right there on their name tags. She remembered them now. Both had tremendous pairs of cleavage. Catriana forgot all about the blowjob, the strange scene, and just fixated on their incredible breasts hovering right over her. She tried to get up, but both girls pushed her down. Music pulsed happily from the speakers.
“Just relax, Miss Dominga,” said Mandy. “We’ve got it all under control. Master is very satisfied. You don’t need to help.”
“Help?” said Catriana. “I don’t want to...want to help...”
Her eyes floated on Zofia’s breasts. So young. So perfectly buoyant. So...enhanced...by the pregnancy. Catriana's mouth was actually watering, aching to cover their terrifically round surface in the wetness of her saliva, to make them shiny and slippery with her drool.
“Of course you want to help,” said Zofia. “You’re a good girl. Such a good girl, and you love to help strong men out.”
“I...do?”
Thinking was very hard. She was a world famous billionaire supermodel, the first of her k
ind. She certainly didn’t think of herself as a “good girl.”
And yet at those words, her wet pussy pulsed with need, aching for something hard, hot, and furious to fill her up and make her whole. Was she a good girl? Did she need that?
And if she loved strong men, why didn’t Marcus fit the bill?
Was he not as strong as she thought? He was certainly unconscious now. He looked completely passed out, sitting on his chair with his limbs totally limp. He was nearly falling out of the seat. No one moved to help him.
“Come now, girls, leave our poor guest alone.”
Catriana’s seat began to straighten upward, no longer reclining. Mandy pressed the button as Albert approached. The other brunette beauty, the gorgeous one who had been sucking his cock, stood off to one side, fixing her make-up in a hand mirror. Her name tag read “Francesca!”
“I’ve been rude,” he said, smiling apologetically. “I haven’t introduced myself fully, and I haven’t introduced my girls, either. As I told you earlier, name is Albert Stout. I’m the founder and owner of NewLife Tech. Have you heard of it?”
Catriana frowned slightly. She had someone take care of all that technology stuff for her. Occasionally she would take a selfie and make the internet go absolutely mad, driving up shares and retweets and likes over a thousand percent.
Usually it was covered in the news cycle, pushing out updates about election coverage or scandals. Experts would be called in to wonder openly about if this meant, finally, that they would get regular photo updates from the gorgeous supermodel. There were petitions in every nation; many of them reached the state level, leading to ambassadors making house calls to her enormous California residence and offering up valuable historical relics for more photos.
But that was all purely for ego. It wasn’t as if she needed that sort of attention to get work. Agencies and companies practically camped out at her front door trying to get her to model for them.
Model Sexcretary (Fertile Pleasures Book 3) Page 2
