Chapter 11

Cathy crumpled the note up in her hand and threw it in the disposal shaft near the drinking spigot. She grabbed up the microphone from its rest and switched on the public address system in the L-1011. Mechanically, she began to explain to the passengers how the pressurized compartment worked, Linda, alongside, holding up the oxygen mask, demonstrating Cathy's words about how it dropped down into the passengers' laps when the pressure changed.

"Welcome aboard flight 239," she had said before beginning her talk and, now, confused, she was saying it again. Linda shot her a look. "We'll be landing in Tampa at nine p.m. Florida time. That's three hours ahead of California time. Enjoy your flight."

"What's the matter, Cathy?" Linda asked her. "Your mind is somewhere else."

The two were walking back to the rear, smiling at the passengers on either side of them.

"Captain Paulson sent a note up to me. He wants to talk to me after we get the drinks out to the passengers."

"Hey, take it easy, kid. Don't let him get you ruffled. He's looking for an excuse to fire you."

"I know. That's what makes me so mad, Linda. It's just not fair!"

"The main thing is to keep your cool. If he sees you shook up, he'll write up a report on you. You almost blew it back there."

"I know. Do you think he was listening in?"

"Probably not. He'd be busy talking to the tower. He's a professional. Good luck when you see him. Just be polite and sweet. Flash him that dazzling smile of yours. What kind of perfume do you have on?"

"Chanel #5. What else?"

"Good. He fancies himself a ladies' man. Just be yourself. Give in to him if he chews you out. It's not worth losing your job over to prove you're right."

"Thanks, Linda. I'll remember that."

Cathy calmed down after serving the passengers their complimentary champagne. She took orders for drinks, passed them out and then went forward to face the captain. Already he had assumed the proportions of an ogre in her mind. She barely knew the man, but he had a reputation for being a hard-nosed Prussian. She was sorry Randy wasn't along on this flight. At the last minute, he had been pulled off to make a trip to Seattle. The co-pilot was Ben Omar, a man in his fifties who was cut from the same mold as Paulson.

Trembling slightly, Cathy entered the cockpit.

"You wanted to see me, Captain Paulson?" she asked.

The captain turned around and shot her a look. They were leveled off, she knew.

"Take over, Ben," said Paulson, unstrapping his belt and rising from his seat.

He pushed Cathy ahead of him to the sleeping compartment. He was rough with her and she felt genuine fear as he locked the door.

"Wha—what'd you want to see me about?" Cathy asked him, her voice quavering.

"Don't you know? Really? The word's out that you're some kind of super fox. The other stews say you'll fuck at the drop of a pair of skivvies."

James R. Paulson was a big blond brute of a man, a former Navy pilot who had distinguished himself as a combat ace when he still had peach fuzz on his face. He was of Swedish extraction, but his blond hair had long since turned gray. His face was ruddy from sailing. He kept a thirty-foot sloop moored at Sausalito and when he wasn't in the air he was sailing on the bay or the open sea. He was tough and looked it. There wasn't an ounce of unnecessary fat on his hard body. To Cathy, he presented a fearsome spectacle in the cabin. He stood between her and the locked door, his heavy brows knit thick and menacing over his piercing blue eyes. His ham like fists were on his hips. His legs were wide spread. She felt trapped and helpless before his ominous figure.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Captain," she said. "That's not very nice to say."

"Don't give me your bullshit, you sassy little bitch. You fucked poor old Mac into his grave. He was just trying to be polite and extend the tradition of the airlines to you. But no, you had to give him a ride to hell, you little cock-sucker !"

"Stop it!" Cathy said, putting her hands up to her ears. "Don't say things like that!"

Angered, he stepped forward, flaying out with both arms. He slapped her hands away from her ears. She winced in pain.

"Listen to me you little fuckhappy cunt," he snarled. "I want to see how you're put together. You're about six inches away from getting canned. Get out of that uniform and spread your legs. We'll see just how goddamned good you are in the sack."

"No," Cathy said, an edge to her voice. She could see that Paulson was out of control. "I wouldn't have anything to do with you the way you are."

"What do you mean the way I am? You little bitch! I'm the captain of this ship! You put out for everyone else, you'll put out for me."

Cathy drew herself up proudly.

"I don't 'put out,' as you say, for everyone else. I don't know what's on your mind, but I want to go back to my passengers."

Paulson advanced menacingly toward her once more.

"Don't you back talk me, you little slut," he barked. "I'm telling you. Get out of that uniform or I'll beat the living crap out of you."

"I don't have to do what you say, Captain Paulson. Please let me go back to my work. Please!"

Cathy was defiant, but she was frightened, too. Paulson showed no sighs of giving in to her pleas. She felt confident, however, that he would realize that she wasn't going to be intimidated by him, if she could help it. She had, however, misjudged the angry pilot.

"Okay, you little bitch," he said quietly, which frightened Cathy more than when he had yelled at her, "you asked for it. I wish Mac were here now to see this. I'd like him to know just what kind of a pig he tied in with!"

Cathy edged away from Paulson, trying to circle around him and somehow escape. He cut her off however, with a savage blow to her head. She staggered backward, too stunned to cry out. The pilot followed up his advantage, bullying her to the bunk, his weight and strength too much for the frightened stewardess.

His bulk was overpowering. Panic lit Cathy's eyes as he fell upon her, his hand reaching underneath her skirt. She couldn't move her legs to kick him. She could feel her pantyhose being pulled down from her waist. His breath was hot on her face. She tried to roll to one side, but he stopped this maneuver. She felt her pantyhose go down past her knees, baring her genitals. With one arm across her neck, he held her there while with one hand he unbuckled his trousers. He removed her pantyhose and shoes, his arm sliding down past her breasts. Braless, she felt the roughness of his sleeve rubbing over her contracted nipples.

"Don't, please don't," she begged.

"Shut your mouth, Merritt," he husked. "If you know what's good for you, you'll cooperate."

"I won't, I won't, damn you!"

Slipping out of his trousers, he slid between her legs. She felt his hard cock sliding up her bare leg. The precoital fluid left hot snail tracks on her inner thigh. She knew it was no use to struggle further. The sheer bulk of the big man made it impossible to escape. Nothing in her life had prepared her for rape. Horror scenes flashed in her mind. She tried to wiggle so that he couldn't enter her, but he put his hands on her legs and spread them wider.

"If you struggle anymore," he rasped, "I'll break your legs. You'll go out of this aircraft on a stretcher."

She knew he meant - what he said. She stopped struggling, giving up to the inevitable. Filled with a loathing that overwhelmed her, she felt his hard cock prying at the portals to her cunt. Her jacket and blouse were roughly jammed up around her throat so that her breasts were bared. He began to slobber over them with his mouth, saliva coating the brown aureoles, his hot breath burning her flesh. She felt the head of his cock shove past her labia. With a grunt he buried his prick to the limit, his balls shoving up against her asshole.

She couldn't relax. The force of his entrance had activated the chemistry of her cunt so that, despite herself, tingles of excitement flowed like electric current through her ravaged pussy. Paulson's thrust was deep and savage, filling her every crevice. His upthrust prick caught the tip of her clit with the heat of a curling iron and she jerked with the sudden orgasm it caused. Drenching showers of moisture turned her cunt into a steamy cave as he pounded her with the inexorable force of his lust.

The young stewardess felt herself responding to his brutal fucking. Her cunt contracted and expanded like a jellyfish, tormented by the rammings of his cock. Her lower body seemed to have a mind of its own as it picked up his rhythm, sucking him even deeper. Her nipples hardened to nubs of painful pleasure as he sucked first one, then the other. She found herself thrusting her breasts upward so more of his mouth could engulf them. His tongue turned into a flicking serpent, teasing, lapping hard against the little brown kernels.

"Oh, you bastard," she whispered, "fuck me, fuck me harder."

"That's better, you little slut," he breathed. "You like this so much, don't you?"

"Oh yes, give it to me. Give me that hard cock of yours, Captain."

She wanted to cry, she was so angry with herself. She was helpless, however. Her cunt was like a dormant volcano suddenly activated. It boiled and erupted with blazing lava, sucking at his pipe, enclosing the massive length of it like some gobbling creature, an octopus changing shape, devouring its prey in a slimy orgy of gluttony. His meat seemed to be everywhere at once, ripping, gouging, ramming, burning through her pussy clear up to the open mouth of her womb.

"Oh, fuck fuck fuck," she moaned. "Fuck forever! Fuck deep, man, fuck me to death!"

The captain took her words to heart, stepping up the pace of his rapacious assault on her young body. She seemed about to break in two as her back arched, the cloven peach of her pussy jutting upwards to bury him all the deeper within the raging oven of her sex. Her breasts were so swollen she thought that surely the skin must burst asunder, the nipples straining to break loose from their roots.

She wallowed and bucked, sighed and screamed deep in her throat. Paulson seemed to be all cock inside her. She felt as though a huge log, afire, had been stuffed up her cunt. He pounded against her belly and thighs until she was sure she would be black and blue from the impact. She was hardly aware of the pain. The glorious ecstasy he stirred within her overrode the hurt.

Cathy's orgasms erupted with blinding speed. Her groans were those of a woman swept up mercilessly onto the peaks of pleasure.

"Uh, oh, god, oh man, oh Captain, my sweet fucking Captain," she moaned.

Paulson knew what was happening. He exulted in the response he had elicited with his cock. The stewardess beneath him was a woman gone wild, out of control. Her body, speared on the shaft of his prick, squirmed and thrashed. Her mouth was slack, her eyes glazed with a thin film of moisture. He pounded her faster and harder, his own excitement now a fiercer thing. He reached underneath her and grasped the twin hemispheres of her buttocks, pulling her cunt up to his spear. He no longer bothered with slurping her teats, but watched her lithe young body spasm in orgasm like a galvanized creature hooked up to 20,000 volts of raw electricity.

"I'm going to shoot it all, babe," he gruffed. "I'm going to dump the whole load in that hot cunt of yours."

"Oh, Captain, give it all to me, you filthy man."

Her cunt squeezed his cock as the muscles in her legs grew taut. She moved her loins in double time, outstripping his own speed. She wanted him to come. She wanted to feel his hot juices explode inside her. She wanted to feel his sperm splash all throughout her seared cunt, soothe the raging fires within the red hot kiln of her quim.

"Now!" he yelled, his body flapping like a rag doll in the jaws of a grizzly bear.

The sperm in his sac attained critical mass. He shot his milk into her with a rush. She reached out her arms and pulled him to her, her mouth straining to find his lips in the awesome moment when her own climax matched his. Their mouths locked together and he kept coming with a seemingly endless stream of jism. Her legs went up around his waist, locking him in. She didn't want him to go soft, didn't want his cock to lose its delicious hardness.

Finally, though, he had spent his last drop inside her. She held on as long as she could, but the delirious moments were over. He softened and she relaxed her legs' hold on him. He spilled from her as their bodies went limp.

"Oh my god, Captain. You must think I'm really low, a slut like you said. I couldn't help myself. Honestly, I couldn't."

He rose from her and looked down at her white flesh, the rumpled skirt around her waist, the blouse entangling her neck. He pulled on his trousers without a word. Cathy struggled up from the bunk, her loins still afire, the dampness inside her cooling slowly. Sticky sperm clung to her pubic hairs, drying fast. She begged for him to say something to her. She felt so defeated, so rotten inside for giving in to his lust. Yet, how could she have helped herself? There had been no way. Her body had betrayed her. Maybe she was all the things he said she was. Maybe she was a bitch and a tramp, a crazy wanton a dollar away from being an outright whore. She wanted to cry just then. But, she wasn't about to humiliate herself any more. He had done this to her. He had raped her with no thought of the terrible consequences. She wanted to leap out of the airplane and throw herself into the sky, fall through the icy stratosphere to her death far below.

She straightened herself out, putting her pantyhose and shoes back on. All the while, Paulson just stared at her, his face noncommittal. Only his eyes burned into her and she felt very small and inconsequential. Was that all she was, an object for beasts like Paulson to despoil and ravage? Was she, after all, a cheap slut with a cunt for a brain?

No, she didn't think so.

"Are you satisfied, Captain?" she asked boldly. "You've raped me and proven your point. Is that all you want?"

"Cathy," he said. "I deserve your hatred. I guess I hated losing my friend, Mac, and blamed you for it. I feel ashamed."

"You do? I'm surprised at you, Captain Paulson. You seemed so damned sure of yourself when you plundered my body. I can't help the way I felt. I'm a woman."

"Did you ... did you act like that with Mac?" he ventured. "I'm sorry. I have to ask."

"Mac? He brought me in here. I can't help what happened to him afterwards. He wanted me. He took me. He was not brutal. He was kind and he enjoyed it. So did I. What was the harm in that?"

"But you," he said. "You do this all the time. You've had many men. Mac couldn't take it. He was used to quiet sex."

"That's what he got from me, Captain. And you're wrong about the other. About the other men, I mean."

"I am?"

"Yes," she said, the tears coming suddenly. "Mac was the first."