Chapter 2: Queen Lilla's Mission
The airship Sky Groper dropped through the last of the clouds, its recombination steam engines ticking over, easing towards the Tower Bridge mooring mast. Captain Zana Hoffsteder played its wheel with a lover's touch, quietly calling out control changes to the women sharing the bridge.
She was a slender woman, her trim body well displayed in the rubberized airship suit. Hair as black as midnight tumbled over her trim shoulders. Her small lips pursed as she worked out the final maneuvers to bring her ship in. Behind the small round glasses clipped to her narrow nose, eyes as pale as high-altitude clouds coolly measured speed, distance, and closure.
With the faintest of clinks, the multi-ton airship's mooring gear slipped into the mast's anchor point.
"I cum when you do that," said her XO, a strong woman of Russian descent. "You better than a dozen mannis."
"The ship is yours, Petra. After I finish our paperwork in the mooring office, I'll be on leave for the next few days."
"Don't get tied too tight," Petra laughed.
Zana smiled a private little smile as she walked down the gondola's central hallway. Petra knew what she had in mind. It was no secret. Oh, the sexual hiss of her lover's rope. The feel of its coils around her rubber flight suit...
Her orders had been followed, she was pleased to see. Docking an airship was always tricky business. Having personnel moving about during the last part of the flight could spell disaster. Like most of her sister captains, Zana had ordered all off-duty personnel made secure. She wasn't too particular on how it was done, how the ropes were tied, or how much clothing remained afterwards. As long as those girls were secure.
The duty crew was always happy to carry out this order.
She paused before one half-opened door. Inside, on the small bed, a woman lay on her side, her clothing removed, her sole bondage a wire that lashed toes to thumbs. Arched cruelly back, gagged with her own panties, she could only moan within her dire circumstance. Her eyes slowly opened, looking up at her captain with mute acceptance.
"Oh, hello Ma'am," said an approaching crewmember. "Just secured my docking station. Figured I'd just stick to the ship over our stay." Her hands held a small paintbrush and a jar of honey. She exchanged knowing smiles with her superior. "Figured I'd catch up on things."
"Carry on," Zana told her, knowing that she would. She turned sideways, passing the other woman with a rubbery squeak in the narrow hallway. The contact was nice. What was even nicer was to daydream about what would occur in that cabin. Bound on her side, the poor airwoman could only lay in painful stillness as honey was painted in erotic patterns across her most sensitive spots. And then would come the tongue. Every touch would bring a shiver, and every shiver would draw pain. And around and around she would go. Zana smiled at the merry thought.
From behind several of the other doors came the sounds of controlled entertainment. Why go out on the town when everything you needed was tied up nice and tidy in your small cabin? And Sky Groper wasn't leaving for days.
She collected her small kit from her quarters and then climbed the ladder up into the true body of the airship, to pass between the huge gas cells. Up forward, where the ship hung linked to the tower of the ancient bridge, was the gangway. She didn't give it a thought as she stepped out onto the narrow plankway.
Midway across, she paused. Tied up to the other tower, floating in parallel to her own ship, another vessel gleamed in virgin newness. It was slightly larger and somewhat longer than her own ship. Her trained eyes located the recombination exhaust ports. From their limited numbers, it appeared as if the craft had a single boiler aboard. That, of course, was ludicrous. A single recom could not move the airship's many propellers. No doubt the other ports had yet to be installed.
Written in bold letters on her nose was the name, Unbound Pleasure. Zana cocked a smile at the thought before entering the tower and descending to the flight office.
Located in the tower, the flight office was the usual scene of confused chaos. The officer in charge apologized; two of her staff had pressed charges against each other over lunch and were now sharing punishment in the Central London Precinct House. Zana shrugged her rubber-sheathed shoulders at the news. The delay actually heightened her excitement. Every second added the spice of anticipation.
As filled out her reports automatically, her mind on what was to come. In a little apartment overlooking Kings Cross Station lived a sweet old friend who knew Zana intimately. She knew about the stress of Zana's job, how every utterance was a command and every incident her responsibility. The Sky Groper was a harsh mistress, one that could easily grind Zana down.
And so Zana would meet her old friend. Without a word, she would cross her wrists behind her. The ropes would trace around her rubber-clad body, tucking and tightening until the rubber squealed against her flesh. Eventually she would be inescapably tied into a little ball of rubber and rope, unable to move, to speak, or to see. Shoved into the dust beneath a bed, or amid the shoes in a closet, Zana would cease to be an airship officer. She would become an object, without responsibly, free to feel the throb of her constricted body and the ache of her bound-fast limbs. Beyond the pain and weariness, past the span of day and night, was that plateau of bliss. In her tight little world, Zana would find her true happiness.
Of course, later would be something else. Still tied, still helpless, the knowing fingers would find her, tracing the lips of her vagina and the step of her nipples. She could shriek and struggle, but none would hear nor aid her. Orgasms would come, filling her suit with a rain-forest heat of musk and sweat. And eventually, after a span of days, she would be released, to lull in a bubble bath, to change back from that sexual object into an airship captain. The following day would see her standing before the mooring gangplank, her smile hard, her glasses perched once more upon her nose.
The pen shuddered as it recorded their patrol's fuel use. Soon, she thought, soon.
"Captain Zana Hoffsteder?"
Her innards froze. Looking up, she saw a minor-grade officer sheepishly standing in the door, a folder in her hand. At her nod, the papers were passed to her. Orders to report immediately to the palace.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am," the officer consoled, correctly reading her expression.
= O =
Buckingham palace was opulent in the extreme. Beautiful Beefeaters crashed to attention as the airship captain passed. She showed her orders only once-the guards were ornamental. With the decline of nationalism, their major duty was to keep accidental wanderers out of the palace.
The captain's dignity was marred by the squeak of her rubber heels as she approached the twin thrones. Two women standing respectfully before them turned. Zana ignored them, coming to crisp attention before the monarchs.
Like the Beefeaters outside, the king was ceremonial. As a manni, he was vested with no power. Instead, he'd been buckled into a tight scarlet straightjacket, his face locked in a complicated leather mask. Cuffs pinned his knees and ankles, chains secured him to the throne. It was said that the queen personally designed his restraints.
Queen Lilla was the true power. She was the second queen to take the throne following the unrest sparked by the Gai-Shift. She was an icy beauty, her kinky hair the color of rust, her skin pale, her nose long and regal. She gave a faint acknowledgment to Zana's bow.
"How good of you to join us, Captain Hoffsteder," the Queen said in greeting. "May I introduce Chief Officer Constance Drummand and Lady Petunia Goldwaith."
Zana cast a glance to the two. Drummand's shoulder-length red hair glimmered. Her nose was pointed, a small bird's beak. Zana figured her to be an exacting yet capable woman.
And then there was Goldwaith. Even with the honorary 'Lady', denoting knighthood, the captain did not see much value in her. Top heavy, round-hipped, yet with narrow tummy and curving legs, Zana found her lines all wrong. The blond flashed her a cheery smile, like the sun breaking from clouds. And suddenly, against all instinct, Zana found herself hungering to trap those fluttering hands in rope, to hang her from her heals in her little cabin, and perhaps paint her with honey.
"We have a mission for you," noted Queen Lilla with a businesslike manner. "A mixture of scientific and theological. Until now, no one has been able to exactly explain the Gai-Shift. Was it sociological? Biological? A gift from a higher power?" She glanced to the restrained King. "Could we suddenly revert? Of this, we have no answers. Any information may be invaluable."
"I don't see how an airship might answer such questions..."
Queen Lilla frowned, and Zana realized that her frankness might see her chained inverted to a dungeon wall, awaiting the Royal Orgasmer. She plugged her gob.
"There are places in the world cut off from society. We wish to know if such places also experienced the Gai-Shift. Do women rule? Are men kept in bondage? Or do the old ways still prevail." A look of disgust crossed her face at that last thought. The Queen leaned forward to gesture to Goldwaith.
"Lady Goldwaith is a royal scientist with advances in fields ranging from engineering to sociology. You are to convey her with all speed to the Andes Mountains in Ecuador. The High Mistress of Ecuador, with whom we share relations, will give you directions to an isolated hill-tribe. Lady Goldwaith will determine if the Gai-Shift occurred to them, totally cut off as they were." Lilla nodded to the competent red-head. "Officer Drummand will provide security for the mission."
Zana carefully adjusted her spectacles on her nose, gathering her thoughts. "The Sky Groper is a short-range transport. Hedging our way to South America, hopping from fuel station to fuel station along the coast of Africa and Brazil, will take weeks."
"You will immediately transfer your crew to the airship Unbound Pleasure. Its experimental power source will permit you a direct flight to Quito, home of the High Mistress."
Zana sputtered. "Transatlantic on an untested power source? Is this wise?"
"Lady Goldwaith will act as your chief engineer. After all, the revolutionary power source came from her designs."
"And remember, no peeking," the Royal scientist giggled.
Zana was still attempting to digest the idea of transatlantic flight. Equally incomprehensible was how this bubbling blonde had developed it.
The Queen rose. "You should have a suitable gift for these savages. Go to the Royal Stables and pick out a suitable manni. The stable-mistress will arrange for harnessing for the fellow. And, in return, if you could bring me a wild man of Ecuador, I would not be displeased." Her cheeks flushed at her private thoughts. "It might prove to be amusing."
The three took this as a sign of dismissal. All bowed and left. Zana glanced over her shoulder to see Lilla standing before the monarch, tugging with determination at the front of his britches. Then she lifted her full gown, to settle over her helpless sovereign. She slowly rocked, her copper-haired head back, moving languidly up and down on her captive manni.
The door closed behind them, cutting off the regasm from view.
= O =
"We don't get many visitors," the chief Royal stablemistress noted as she looked over their crown order. She was a capable woman, coal-black hair shot with gray, muscles burly from a lifetime of dealing with skitterish mannis. "Well, come with me. You can pick whichever one suits your needs."
"I don't think only one would suit my needs," Petunia Goldwaith snickered, eyes flashing at the ranks of bound men.
The trio was led down a long hallway. Alcoves lined the hall, and in each one lay, hung, or was propped a trussed manni. Zana, who'd only coupled with a manni once, to settle a crew wager, carefully adjusted her nose-clip spectacles and peered over the bound, gagged, and cuffed man-flesh. The seat of her rubber airship pants was growing ever hotter.
"Oh, look at this one," Petunia cooed, stepping into an alcove where a manni lay on the floor, almost completely encased in tight leather. His desperate eyes and swelling manhood were the only visible parts of him. "Oh, Captain Zana, he's dressed up just like you!"
Zana felt her slim knees tremble at the sight. She found herself fantasizing of this rubber-encased man laying in her small airship bunk, helpless, a sexual tool. She imagined sliding in next to him, her rubber-gloved fingers exploring, their bodies squeaking as they slowly rubbed against one another. Oh, and those desperate eyes. That hot rod...
She recognized her distress as it grew within her. Climaxing before these woman would be a disaster. She tried to calm her passions, to think of beautiful airships, but they only grew pink and swelled before her mind's eye. In last ditch desperation, she removed her tiny eye glasses, blurring the temptations. Her heart slowed.
"Be careful, your Ladyship," warned the stablemistress as she watched Petunia toy with the mummified manni. "He's not been milked today. He might go off on you."
Petunia gave an appropriately cocky smile. "Oh, not much chance of that. I have a stable at home, and know my way around them. When this mission is over, you girls simply must come up and go riding."
They continued along the corridor. Petunia was like a Harrods's shopper, touching everything that caught her fancy. Zana noticed that Constance was viewing the bondage from a professional standpoint, taking in the many ways the mannis had been secured, a sailor examining a passing ship's rigging. Still, the airship captain noticed the nipples that stood up against the tight policewoman's blouse. Zana wondered what it would be like to bind up these modest breasts and toy with them for hours. Then she took her glasses back off. She had really needed that time up in Kings Cross.
"And what is this all about," Constance asked, nodding into an alcove. Here, a manni had been strapped to a gurney. At his side was a vacuum pump, its hose slipped down over his member. He lay very still, looking at the women through the maze of his harness gag.
"Milking keeps the mannis in line," the stable mistress replied. "We don't milk them every day; Queen Lilla often comes here to ride with the ladies of her court. We must keep our mounts frisky, ready to provide a good session. However, after a few days, they can become aggressive. We milk them and give then a day's casual bondage before putting them back into the field."
Petunia eyed the mechanical contraption that was poised to strip the manni of his passions. "A very interesting design."
"You've experience with this sort of thing?" This from Constance, who was thinking of her flat's standard MI and all its programmed devilries.
"Not manni-based ones, and not commercial. Mine are more... experimental." She looked to Constance, her eyes clearly stating that she would love to get the policewoman strapped up for some test-bedding.
"I was just about to service this manni when you came," the stable-mistress noted. "I should really process him. Normally ten minutes is the cure, but it won't hurt him if it goes long." Ignoring his desperate muffled pleas, she pulled down a wall mounted scissor-switch. Instantly, the machine thudded to life, steam hissing from its pop-valves. The hose stiffened. The manni bucked in his straps as the pressure slowly mounted. Petunia's eyes flashed. Zana squinted, nervously clutching her glasses in her hand. Constance, to the rear of everyone, brushed a short strand of hair from her forehead, indirectly brushing her tits in the process.
They continued their inspection, the ratcheting from the suction device echoing down the hall after them, its cadence shifting as it loaded up. Other mannis looked up helplessly as they were examined. Petunia's experienced hands examined their shafts, forcing a reaction. As she went about it, she exuded a mixture of giggles and laboratory discipline. Zana stood well back, her narrow face flushed. Constance kept pushing the hair from her eyes.
"Oh, this one," Petunia finally noted. She had been molesting a young manni who lay in a tight hogtie. The male whined into his ball gag at her bold manipulations. "He's frisky and coltish, just right for some long-legged barbarian queen."
"Bert51," the stable-mistress noted. "Good form, a dependable ride, yet always capable of going that last furlong. Lilla has spoken highly of him. We will have him crated immediately and sent to Tower Bridge."
The three woman stepped from the stables, Petunia somewhat reluctantly. The others breathed deep the clear air, recomposing themselves.
If only externally.
21.01.09
story continues in Gai-Shift 3: 'Unbound Pleasure'
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