Travel Arrangements

I settle for a formal two piece, skirt and jacket, completed by a high neck blouse, to cover the top of the bra.

As I survey my look in the mirror, I think that I could pass any visual inspection, but the metal detectors will be a very different story.

When I'm paying my bill at the desk, the bellboy announces that there is a taxi for me. I feel a sense of inevitability, either I follow a plan hatched by a stranger that I do not know, or I tell the driver to carry me to the railway station.

And what will be the repercussions on my relationship with Sarah. She trusted me during our night activities, should I trust her back?

I'm still thinking about it when the driver, after putting my bags in the trunk, asks me where to go. I put my mask on before hopping on the vehicle.

"Airport, departures."

Oh my, where did I put myself into?

The drive in the city traffic is pretty uneventful. I am lost in my thoughts, obsessing about shame and humiliation. I picture a photo of myself in the buff on the first page of the newspaper. Well, not in the buff, but paraded with all my metal contraptions.

Then I think about that TV program where they report the things they find at the airport. They find snakes, drugs and whatever.

Imagine if they find a woman locked in a chastity belt. It would for sure be a field day. Yet the thought is somewhat arousing.

We arrive at departure while I am lost in my thoughts, and I pay for the ride in a haze.

The driver is nice enough to put my baggage in a trolley, so I slowly approach the desk to ask if there are messages for me. The thigh cuffs are not a problem now, it seems I have found my walk.

There is a bit of a queue and as I am waiting for my turn, my phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Tara, you do not know me. I'm Theresa. Sarah told me about your situation. Where are you?"

"Hi. Information desk, departures terminal."

"Ok, good, let me get there. We do not have a lot of time."

A couple of minutes later, a woman appears at my side.

She is wearing jeans and boots, a plaid shirt and a leather jacket. She must be more or less my age, but she has an imposing physical appearance.

Under the jacket hem, I can see a gun holster and a handcuff pouch, she has to be police or something similar.

"Hi, Tara, nice to meet you. Could you follow me?"

The approach is blunt and direct, it leaves me speechless. I follow her in a trance-like state as she takes a door and guides me in a hallway and in a room.

I want to ask her what she has in mind, but she stops me in my tracks just with a finger.

"Let me be very clear. I'm a certified professional, I transport prisoners from different places in the country. If you travel with me you will pass the controls. But you will be my prisoner for the whole trip. Do you understand?"

I simply nod. How easy it is to take the role of a slave.

She continues with her speech.

"Ok, first I want to see what we are dealing with, so, enter there and undress."

Her finger is pointing to a door, there is a tab on the side. It spells "Drugs".

Obviously we are in the area used by police for searches and detention.

As I go into the room, I see an iron throne on the side of the room. As I get a more deep look, I see that it is a commode, entirely made of steel.

As if I have asked, she explains.

"This is for the couriers, the ones that swallowed drugs. You can cuff them there until they expel the merchandise. Wanna try?"

Oh my god. I'm in a room in an airport, reserved to detain smugglers until they expel the drugs they are carrying inside their own stomach. On top of that, I'm undressing in front of a stranger, and I am locked in a chastity belt and a steel bra both of which I do not possess any key.

"Well, I think I may have to use a toilet, after all." I say softly.

As I discard all my clothes, she carries me on the throne, that is as a matter of fact like a high seat with a hole in the middle. Under that hole, there is a grilled tube that, I imagine, blocks whatever substance leaves the detained person.

As I sit there, I realize that it is an embarrassing position, everyone in the room can have a clear view of the matter. Absolutely no privacy.

And I'm still pondering on that, as she secures my wrists on the side of the seat.

"Oh, no."

"Shut up, do your business and move it. We do not have all the time in the world."

She is clearly inspecting my belt and my bra, since my hands are cuffed I have literally no way to hide myself.

"Well, well, what do we have here? Sarah described it to me, but in real life it is really something. Does it hurt?"

"No, it is pretty comfortable, yes." I answer, feeling the weirdness of the position and trying to keep it casual.

"It's all metal?"

"Yes."

"It would be difficult to pass the metal detectors, wouldn't it?"

"I think so."

"Ok, let me take care of this."

I force myself to pee in front of her, and in a little while I succeed. It is quite difficult to relax enough to let it go in front of another person.

After that I'm stuck there and she makes no move to untie my wrists.

"Well, we have to prepare for the flight."

And she starts to collect my clothes and neatly puts them in my luggage.

Then she takes some other clothes from a bag. It seems that I will have to wear a disguise. It gets weirder and weirder.

From the same bag she picks other things, but I do not have a clear view. From the sounds there are also some chains.

Oh my....

"Open up."

She inserts a ball gag in my mouth and then proceeds to secure a harness on the lower half of my face.

I'm startled by this move, but being still tied to the toilet chair gives me no way to flee or to refuse.

And then I think that, even if I would be able to escape, I would find myself in a restricted area in the middle of an airport terminal, locked in a chastity belt and bra. Without any clothes, at the moment.

Inside the cups I feel my nipples starting to get hard from excitement. My mind is already weighing the implications of Theresa's actions.

She said that she would treat me as he prisoner, so she must have a plan.

On the front of the waistband of my belt there is a d-ring. She threads a metal carabiner on it and a pair of handcuffs is fixed there.

Then she proceeds to free my hands. It is a very short lived freedom, since as a wrist is detached from the toilet it gets latched on the handcuffs.

At the end, my hands are stuck to the belt's waistband and Theresa has to help me to climb down the seat.

She positions me in the middle of the room as I try to test my freedom. I'm really not able to move my hands much. And every tug is transferred to the belt.

Interesting.

"Ok, Sarah told me to get creative with you."

Sarah? What did she tell Theresa? What does it mean to be creative?

The first part of the answer is a butt plug that is shown in front of my face.

"Lean forward. If you scream, we can see how good the gag is."

Reluctant, I obey while she is putting on some gloves.

I feel her smearing something on my butt crack then I can sense the pressure on my butthole.

I clench hard to stop her but she is relentless, to apply more pressure she grabs the rear part of the belt, blocking any chance of escape.

As the plug goes in, I feel a growing pressure, and when my muscles try to push it out, the pressure becomes uncomfortable. I scream in the gag, just to let a feeble whimper be heard in the room. Yes, it is definitely effective.

The pressure stops, and I hear a click from behind.

"There you are, locked and loaded." A key is paraded in front of my eyes, she must have the plug locked on the rear chain of the belt.

Wonderful.

I straighten up and try to look, but there is no mirror in the room.

She puts some collants on me, first a foot then the other. They are some fake garter belts so that the tight bands do not interfere with them.

From the pile she picks up something. At first I fail to identify the thing, then I try to say no, moving my head sideways.

"Don't be a fuss, we cannot let you make a mess on the flight, do we?"

It is an adult diaper, and she forces it on my body first inserting the crotch part between the belt and the thigh chain, then using the adhesive strips to close it in place.

I feel so humiliated, that some tears escape my eyes.

She places a plaid skirt on me to reach under my knees. It is brown, ugly brown. At this point, I realize that I have to comply with her plan, there is no gain in resisting.

There are also some flat shoes. Let's just say that they get along with the skirt.

Then she inserts my head in a white turtleneck sweater, and unties each hand just for the time it needs to pass it thru the sleeve, after that both my hands are fastened again at my waist.

She is very professional, it gives me reason to believe that she had forced clothes on people before. From her brisk ways, I would say that she had dressed uncooperative people, in the past.

I feel like a toy, unable to talk, unable to use my hands, I choose not to fight against her.

She tops my outfit with a jacket drawn on my shoulders.

"Nearly done, dear."

She takes another chain from the bag and I see that these are legcuff that go on my ankles over the shoes. There is a chain connecting them and also there is another chain that links them to my waistband.

Now I seem really like a prisoner.

Theresa takes a step back to inspect my transformation and seems pretty happy with the final result.

"Honey, we cannot let you around like this."

With a cotton cloth she cleans my face from makeup smudges and dried tears and then she puts a cloth mask around my ears covering the gag harness. The pandemic seems a perfect excuse to roam around gagged.

After checking the room, she takes my luggage and connects a leash to the waistband ring.

"All set, we have to go. We do not have much time."

Ok, right now we are talking of carrying me, dressed like this around an airport to catch a plane.

Like me in ugly clothes, locked in a chastity belt and gagged? Maybe this is a step too far. I think about refusing to follow her, but then I remember that she has Sarah's trust. And she would not put me in danger on purpose.

So, meekly, I subject myself to whatever is going to happen in the next couple of hours.

As we leave the room, I happen to understand what the leg cuffs are causing to me.

My steps are shorter than usual and I have to make an effort to keep her stride. If I fall, unable to use my hands, it is going to be a gruesome accident.

As we enter the main departure area, I see that just my appearance gets stares from people.

Theresa is going her way like it is nobody's business, but I get conscious. They are all looking at me.

With a steady gait we reach a police security control.

"Special transport, I'm with the DOJ. This bitch has to be in court tomorrow morning."

She hands some papers to the agent in charge.

"They did not warn us. Mrs...."

Without breaking contact she pushes it further.

"Usually we do not warn. This is Organized. So..."

"Mmm... ok... let me check credentials and tickets. I need you to free her hands."

"Honey, not on my watch, she has tried to flee three times last month. You can check her out with the hand thingy."

Surprised by the blunt response, he takes the small metal detector and passes it on my body, as he gets near the belt, I can hear it bleeping.

"Must be the cuffs." He says,

After what I think is the longest time in my life, he lets us enter the departure area.

Theresa rummages in my bag, eventually finding my phone. She gets to the contact list and finds Jeff's number among the ones that I call most.

She asks me if it is my husband's phone and then proceeds to call.

"Hi there, my name is Theresa. I'm managing your wife's travel arrangement. Right now she is pretty tied up, but she told me to tell that you should pick her up at the airport at...."

She tells him our expected time of arrival, then there is silence as if she is listening to his words.

"Oh, well, ok. Let me see."

She takes a step back and before I even realize she takes a picture of my predicament.

"I've sent it now.... No, she can't talk to you."

Theresa puts my phone near my ear. I can hear Jeff's voice.

"See? I was sure that you would find a way to return home. We have a little punishment that needs settling, remember?"

In this precise moment, I feel completely defeated, I have no power over my own situation. Maybe I did lose any control of myself for a little while, but this is the moment I realize. And at the same moment, I picture the humiliation potential that is part of this whole setup.

What if someone recognizes me, under the mask, the gag, the clothes?

What if my skirt rises up, showing my metals to the world?

And what if someone has the brilliant idea to take some pictures with his or her phone and post them on the net?

After all, I'm an attorney, I'm known, I can fall from grace.

I should be terrified, but I'm aroused, and I really wish that someone, preferably Jeff, could fuck me to kingdom come, here and now.

"We lost her. I will call you when we touch down."

The leash pulls me out of my reverie, as Theresa keeps a brisk pace towards the gate. She goes directly to the counter in front of all the people already waiting to access the plane.

I'm keeping my eyes to the ground, knowing that they are all staring at me. I firmly believe that all of them know all the truth behind my disguise.

And this makes me even more horny.

I hear her dealing with our place on the plane, but I'm so much in turmoil that it is difficult for me to follow their words.

The only thing I understand is that we have to sit in a special area in this lobby, waiting for our turn to embark.

As Theresa conducts me to a seat in the lobby, I have the chance to look around.

They are all looking at me, oh my goodness! I really would like to scream to relieve the urge that I feel inside me.

Lucky me, I'm thoroughly gagged and I can't really make a scene. But as the dizziness stops me in my tracks, she is tugging the leash in her direction. They call for us, and we go into the tunnel to the plane before anyone else, in front of anyone else.

A hostess gives Theresa directions to our seat. I'm not brave enough to look at her in the eyes. I have this irrational thought that if I make eye contact with anyone, they will immediately get to know the whole of my situation.

Theresa's hands help me sit on an economic class chair, and once my butt rests on the plastic, I feel that the plug is being pushed even further inside.

My moanings are muffled by the gag, and once she secures my safety belt, I really feel stuck in place.

Then all the other passengers are let on the plane, and to my horror I see that all of them are going to pass in front of me, getting a clear view of the prisoner.

I fight to not cry, then I realize that they are not seeing me, but a disguise of me. And the thought that my situation is so on display is enough to get me horny again.

"Unfortunately, you will not be able to read a book, so I thought that you will need some distraction during the flight."

Theresa is showing her smartphone to me. She has opened an app, and she is connecting to something.

Then she flickers with some controls with her fingers, and at first I do not understand what she is doing.

After a couple of seconds, the butt plug comes to life, and starts to slightly vibrate.

She is intently looking at me, while she ramps up the vibrations. At first, it seems like an itch that obviously I have no way to scratch.

As the movement intensifies, the vibrations are transmitted to my vagina, already alert and engorged.

It is enough to propel my horniness but nowhere near enough to let me get an orgasm.

She must have caught some movement in my hands, so the thing abruptly stops.

"Ok, we have ninety minutes. I do not want to spoil the fun."

I look in horror as she sets it to random frequency and random intervals, and with a broad smile, she puts the phone in her pocket. In desperation, I try to free my hands, but the cuffs are unyielding, and the only result that I get from tugging the belt is to push the plug even further up my own ass.

Ok, I'm in the middle of a crowded plane, full of people well aware that there is someone handcuffed on board. Therefore there is someone guilty, someone dangerous enough to be restrained for the whole flight. I have to relax and control myself.

I feel the brunt of the humiliation, yet I'm definitely horny. I can feel that my pussy is literally oozing. And then there are the relentless attacks from the buttplug.

As soon as I relax enough to slump on the seat, the damn thing chooses to start again to torment my ass.

As i open my eyes, I see Theresa looking at my hands, they are clutching the air, in a spasm. If I had something to catch, to stroke, I would do it.

Between the cuffs and the belt I'm pinned to the seat, and every vibration makes me squirm to no avail. The gag does a good job in silencing my pleasure.

The final humiliation comes in the middle of the flight as I feel the need to pee, due to the stimulation and the air conditioning.

Now I understand the plan, and feel trapped as I realize that Theresa has decided to force me to wet myself.

In a diaper. On an airplane. Cuffed. Belted.

The situation is both a nightmare and a dream come true, and this is what it needs to let me get an orgasm here and now.

As she gets that my head is swaying in the throngs of pleasure, she grabs my chin and looks directly in my eyes.

"Don't you dare, bitch."

The force in her voice is something that makes several heads turn in our direction, while I catch that she is cranking up the plug.

It is literally too much for me. And as I come down from it, I pass the rest of the flight panting and trying to catch my breath, exhausted I finally slump on my seat and manage to relax.

The rest of the flight is pretty uneventful, I rest as I feel the impact of the plane's wheels on the tarmac. As we dock to the finger, Theresa pulls me by the leash before all the passengers.

I feel the humiliation of the whole parade, along the whole plane, along the runway, and it seems she is purposefully dragging me in the most crowded areas of the whole damn terminal.

Suddenly she stops on her tracks and she clips the leash to a stair rail.

I'm surprised by this and I'm even more startled as she grabs the neck of my sweater and with a swift move tears it off me.

As a matter of fact, it seems that all the clothes I wear are designed like some stripper's outfit, which you can shed in a single move.

As she moves away, I realize that now I'm covered by the belt, the bra and the mask hiding the gag underneath.

In an airport, chained to a rail, with hands and feet cuffed.

I look around in complete horror as I see people grabbing their phones and starting to take pictures and videos. I frantically try to get free but there is no way I can open the cuffs and free the leash.

As I scream her name, muffled by the gag, there is space around me. People are fleeing from me.

In a pandemic world, with the occasional terrorist attack, I myself would take a safe distance from a situation like mine.

There is a crowd around me at a safe distance, and I try to see Theresa, but I cannot locate her face among them.

After a couple of minutes, there is security around me, they are speaking to me, asking for my name, the reason I'm here, dressed like this.

Obviously, I try to give them the answers, but the gag is still blocking my mouth, but they cannot see it under the mask and I cannot reach it with my hands. It's humiliating and frustrating so much that I start to cry.