Gang Heat: The Bundle (Unprotected Force)

by Nadia Nightside

  That was why when she arrived and found that the other two stewardesses had called in sick—and no one had arrived to sub for them—Leanne was rather surprised. Between the extra pay and the sense of obligation everyone felt to one another, it was usually no trouble filling a flight with staff. But, that was fine. She had worked flights alone before, like she had a year or two before when the flu brought everyone down.

  The aircraft was a small luxury jet, the sort that had to be entered into by passengers on the runway without any sort of proper gate at the Rosington airport. Stepping across the heavy concrete was never easy in her heels—dark blue four-inch pumps, matching the tight blue skirt that was standard wear for the airline—but she had become rather expert at it.

  Smoky stockings glistened darkly on her long legs, a tight white blouse with the top buttons undone over her massive tits. Her jacket was always tight, but today she had worn her old jacket, the one given to her when she first started working there and they hadn’t realized quite how busty she was. The way the Global Airlines stewardesses looked was always part of their presentation, and so they were all naturally attractive.

  But Leanne had dressed like this today for a reason. Often she would dress in this manner because she wanted extra tips to pay for some big vacation or expenditure down the line, but today she was mad at Axle. Half of her hoped to go home with some stranger who could fuck her until she forgot all about him.

  It wouldn’t work, she didn’t think, but she was willing to try. All last night she had written and deleted several possible texts to her Man, wishing and re-wishing that their date had actually happened. He was infuriating. And of course he wasn't saying anything.

  By the time morning came, her mind was made up—she would not apologize until he did. She had done nothing wrong, and if she had, then he ought to explain it before sending her about like a child.

  Ducking inside the jet, she was surprised to see a small party, all men.

  It was not unusual for a party to be entirely men, or to be small—the jet only fit twenty, and there were five of them there—but it was unusual for them to be so...well...rough-looking.

  These men all wore button-up shirts and suit jackets, but they also had on steel-toed boots, blue jeans, and had thick hair. Three of the two had thick facial hair. Their faces lit up as they saw her beauty queen face pop open in surprise at them, her luscious body sliding into view.

  Shortly after she arrived, the take-off procedures began. Her duties were minimal. She informed the passengers of the safety features of the plane using a small microphone, including the exits and the breathing apparatuses that would fall if the cabin began to depressurize. But she could tell already that all the men were mostly just eyeing her tits, her long legs.

  Leanne was mad at Axle, but she was still attracted to him—and his type. These men were all his type. She bent over this way and that, displaying her ass while elaborately pointing at the exits, using her breathiest, sexiest voice. She hoped for a number or two from these men—not because she actually wanted to follow up on it and go out with them (although she would have been tempted).

  But rather, she wanted some validation of her attractiveness even in her work uniform when the outfit she had worn for Axle had been a thousand times sexier. Leanne placed great amounts of her self-worth in her attractiveness to men, especially muscle-bound, rough-looking men like the ones in the jet now. She guessed that maybe they did their business in oil. Oil men always had a certain ruggedness to them, with so many of them being self-made.

  In truth, Leanne still wanted to make up with Axle. He was a fantastic lover and very easy on the eyes, and by and large treated her exactly how she wanted to be treated. He spoiled her like a princess, buying her pretty jewelry and outfits and giving her large stacks of cash to play with while he was away.

  That much money was intoxicating to a girl like Leanne, so pretty and so perpetually poor.

  As the plane began its ascent into the air, she took her seat in front of the passengers. The seat belt fitting so snugly over her body did nothing to dissuade them from looking her over. Her legs, so captivating in their tight smoky stockings, were crossed elegantly as the plane finally entered the air.

  With a quick round of small talk, she introduced herself, and the men did as well:

  Banks, with the slicked back hair. Yorkshire, somewhat older and thicker than the others. Tank, largest of the five with a perpetual predatory grin on his face. And then Malcolm and Garden, both slimmer than the rest and wearing expensive shoes and jackets.

  Once the plane was steadied in the air and the captain turned off the seat belt sign, she got up and began her normal duties. The first was to set out drinks for the passengers.

  She took their orders—all of them wanted hard alcohol. It was early in the morning still, but it wasn't Leanne's job to judge. They looked like hard-drinking types anyway, and so she wasn't very surprised.

  “You're too pretty to be a stewardess,” said Banks, after giving her his order. “Why aren't you a model or something?”

  “And miss out on you boys?” said Leanne, flirting openly. “I would never.”

  She retreated to the small kitchen, preparing their drinks and floating nicely on the compliment given to her. Maybe she would model. She had the face for it, and the body.

  With the drinks prepared, she walked back out with her little cart, ready to deliver. And then it all began to get very physical.

  It started when Banks grabbed at her ass. The movement surprised her and yet did not startle her. In this job, with her body, with the outfits she was required to wear, having her ass handled was not exactly out of the ordinary.

  She turned, a playful smile on her face, and swatted at his hand. “Now, now,” she said. “What would Mrs. Banks think?”

  “She’d think you had a great ass that deserved grabbing.”

  Just as Leanne was forming a response to that, Mr. Tank grabbed her ass from the other side. “It is a great ass,” he said. “Smooth and firm. What do you do to keep in shape like that?”

  There was no back-up, she realized slowly. No one to help. Just the two pilots up front, but they were busy keeping everyone in the air. Normally, when she faced a situation like this, there were always other stewardesses available to distract the men or to shame them. Even the boldest of gropers preferred to operate unopposed.

  But these men...there was something different about them.

  “I...I work out,” said Leanne, her voice becoming soft. Aroused. Her pussy was moistening at the feel of these rough hands on her body. “A lot. You can...you can let go now.”

  “Can I?” said Tank, squeezing harder on her perfectly formed ass. He didn't care that she was pushing on his wrist.

  “She works out a lot,” said Banks, sliding his hand up her stocking, resting high on her inner-thigh.

  “Are these men bothering you?”

  It was Yorkshire, the one who appeared older and in charge. For a moment, Leanne’s spirits lifted. And yet almost as soon as she thought she was rescued, these hopes were dashed as he slid up against the side of her body. His cock, hard and straining underneath his tight pants, rubbed against her hip. His hand took a long trip up the front of her body until it rested on one plump, eager tit.

  The problem with not having back up, Leanne realized, was not that there was no one around to stop these men.

  It was that there was no one around to stop her from getting so fucking turned on by what was happening.

  “G-guys,” she stammered. “Please. Let’s...you don’t...I mean...”

  Her incoherent babbling was punctuated by Tank pulling on her waist and sitting her down across her lap. She could feel the thick shaft of his cock hardening quickly beneath her ass as he ground her body down into his crotch.

  “Come on, sweetheart,” he said. “Give us a dance.”

  Usually, when men acted this bold on a flight, they were properly drunk. But there was no alcohol on his breath. In fact,
none of them had taken any alcoholic drinks yet. They were acting this way with a sober mind and naturally bad intentions. Somehow that made it all the more wicked.

  Tank’s hands slipped up the sides of her body, moving up and down. Banks and Yorkshire kept pulling and groping at her tits, telling her to smile. And she did, God help her—she smiled big, pleasant-like, hoping beyond hope she would please these big strong men who clearly had such a handle on what to do with a girly girl fuckdoll like her.

  If this didn’t stop soon, they wouldn’t be able to help banging her brains out. Her body would get them too hard and hot and bothered.

  It would be her fault.

  She would have to help them out if it came to that. Her panties felt soaked through and she was dead certain that Tank’s cock was leaking precum through his pants, staining her skirt from the other end.

  “Get her naked,” said Garden. He and Malcolm had been watching, sitting over their seats. “I want to see those big fucking tits of hers. They look dynamite.”

  Leanne blushed at the compliment, knowing that once her tits were revealed, “dynamite” would be the least of the compliments issued to them.

  But...

  But...

  But...no.

  She was Axle’s girl. Still. Even after all this. Even after the asshole way he had acted last night. They hadn’t broken up, they were just having a fight. And if she went and fucked a bunch of dudes—even if that was a fantasy of hers!—without giving Axle a chance to make it up to her, without even having another conversation with him, then she didn’t deserve him.

  Misunderstandings about outfits and expectations were one thing. Annoyances, to be sure, and the attitudes on everyone’s part could have been improved. But getting drilled by five guys at once was probably going to be a little bit harder for him to swallow, and Leanne hadn’t been able, ever, to lie to a Man like Axle. It just wasn’t in her DNA to defy masculine gods like him.

  With a great summoning of all her available will, she slid from Tank’s grasp. She did not have to fight him, as she might have thought. Indeed, he let her up willingly, though with a blue-balled groan.

  “So soon, babe? We were just getting warmed up.”

  The other men’s hands were still on her. She made a long x-motion down from her chest to slide them off—and again, off they came, easy as daylight.

  Her pussy, though, was still dripping wet, and if she was going to last in this flight, she would have to take care of that.

  She took several long steps backward, painfully aware of her the sex appeal of her long legs in her skinny, hot pumps. Her bouncing breasts, freed a little more by one button popping open during the groping of all those big men.

  “W-we have just a...a little while longer to go, boys, a-and...” she cleared her throat, hoping it wasn’t desperately obvious how badly she needed to jam her fingers up her cunt. From their leering grins, it clearly was. “...and, there will be some complimentary food services in just a little while. B-but until then, I have to...I’m...I’ll be...indisposed.”

  And with that, she scampered down the aisle into the bathroom, hoping beyond hope that they wouldn’t hear her desperate cries for cock when she started to jam her fingers into her needy wet cunt.

  * * * * *

  Global Airlines did not have a vast fleet of jets on the scale of other well-known airlines—they were, despite their name, more of a regional service. International flights were offered, even ones overseas, but they cost more and usually were not quite as efficient as the larger jets. Still, sometimes people did take them to provide themselves with a little privacy in the long hours between countries.

  What Global lacked in size and availability, they made up for in luxury. The seats were plush leather with multiple settings for comfort, each seat back loaded with a remote control that altered its inflation according to the user’s preference. Per every six hours in flight, one full-course meal would be served, usually made by the stewardesses themselves.

  There were enough fleece blankets for one and a half times the passenger limit, thick pillows, a sleeping lounge in the back (complete with emergency seat belts, just in case), and a state-of-the-art media display at the front and back of the plane, to allow for passengers to have two different viewing options showing simultaneously. Bluetooth headphones were provided, also comfy and state-of-the-art.

  So, it should come as no surprise then that the lavatories included much more space than the normal jetliner—about five times as much, making it about as good as the bathroom for a studio apartment, complete with a space for a shower.

  When Leanne entered, she kept her eyes to the ground, her head in dizzy lustful haze. She slipped her hands up her skirt and plunged her fingers deep down her panties, quickly re-arranging her entire undergarments so as to better access her pussy.

  “Oh fuck...” she moaned, gentle finger sliding against the bud of her clit. “Oh god, that’s sooo good...”

  Try as she might, she could not get the thought of Axle’s cock out of her mind. It was like she could practically smell him in the room with her.

  Even though what had turned her on to this point was the groping passions of five other adult men—and even though they had been perfectly masculine and patriarchal, knowing exactly what a good girl slut she was and knowing just how to treat her for being such a hot tart in her tiny fucking stewardess outfit—sex for her now was a product and a discipline that revolved entirely around Axle.

  His cock was the beginning and end of every orgasm he had. Picturing it, feeling it, imagining it, sucking it, fucking it—there was little space in her head for anything else. So much of her time was devoted to looking pretty and wearing the best possible outfits because she didn’t want him for a second to stop thinking about screwing her silly.

  There was nothing like fucking Axle—nothing.

  Before she met him, she hadn’t been a virgin, but she may as well have been. He opened her eyes to a whole world of sexual experience that she had never even known existed. It was like taking a cavewoman who had survived on raw meat and country onions to a restaurant in Paris.

  Her brain had been so overloaded with his cock in their first few weeks of meeting each other that they had barely gone on dates at all. He would show up at her house and she would beg, desperately, to suck his cock before they went out. Two hours later he had filled up her stomach three times with his massively potent loads and she was on her back, legs spread wide, begging to have a baby put inside her.

  They hadn’t gone that far yet—but not because Leanne wasn’t willing, and not because his virile seed had failed to spill in her unprotected fertile body. It simply hadn’t happened yet.

  Her body began twitching with pleasure as her attentions increased. She backed up her ass into the bathroom, tall heels dragging along the plastic floor. And then she felt it.

  There was someone behind her. Someone large. Someone breathing hard, watching her. Someone with a huge cock with her firm ass sliding up and down it. The cockhead had landed between her cheeks, both firm half-globes almost enveloping the meaty, bare shaft.

  “O-oh shit,” she said, shuddering.

  The feeling was scary, but also scary arousing. She turned, putting her hands up, and saw a huge man with a black ski mask over his face. He pointed down, indicating for her to get on the floor.

  A hundred thoughts ran through her mind—how did he get here? Who was he? What did he want?

  But all of these were drowned out by how turned on she was by the presence of his cock.

  Leanne gulped, dropping slowly down to her knees. The heavy points of her heels pushed against the door.

  “Please,” she said. “I don’t know how you got on here, but I don’t care. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. J-just don’t hurt me, okay? I won’t tell anyone. I w-won’t—”

  The man put a finger to her lips, shushing her. The other hand wrapped slow around her throat, not quite choking her but remaining quite firm on the tender expos
ed flesh. And then, slowly, he began to push his finger into her mouth. There was no way for her to fight back, to run. If she bit his finger, she was certain he would snap her neck in two seconds flat. He was enormous. Maybe as big as Axle. Size was difficult to tell in that small space.

  His cock was still out, she realized. It was out...and it was hard, huge, and magnificent. The sight of it filled her world, struck something deep within her, and she could not help the sudden saliva that formed in her mouth as a thick layer of drool around her lips. Soft, wet layers of it began to slide around the man’s finger as she fellated the digit.

  Slowly, he pulled his finger out and began to move his cock toward her mouth.

  This was insane. Leanne knew this was insane. Somehow this maniac had stowed away on her plane, and now she was sitting in front of his huge erect cock. Precum dripped down from it like a fountain. It was so big.

  Maybe it was the small space of the bathroom, and maybe it was all the lusty haze drifting through her brain, but it seemed even larger than Axle’s. It stuck out toward her, promising such sucking goodness if only she began to slide her lips over the tip and take it down her throat like a good girl.

  She was too turned on—from the day, from the impressive cock, from the situation—to even consider that this was wrong somehow. That this was bad. That she had been cornered and should fight and defend herself.

  Crying out wouldn’t do her any good. Even if the man didn’t kill her, the men outside were just as likely to join in with this intruder as they were to help her.

  But she was so turned on. Nothing in the world seemed so very important as much as doing what this man said. There was the implication, of course—his hand on her throat, that ski mask on his face—if she didn’t comply, bad things could happen.

  That was all besides the point of her desire to comply, though.

  The cockhead pushed against her cheek. She moaned, her hands tearing at her blouse as she tried to contain her arousal—tried to contain her need. But something about this cock, this man, this situation was making her more turned on than she ever had before. She felt out of control. She felt like she was tripping on pure lust.