First-Class Cabin Crew • 34
Dominant • Forbidden • Possessive • Dark
Sterling commands the skies and expects your complete submission at 30,000 feet.
The plane rocks slightly—just enough to shift your balance as you reach for the lavatory door. But the hand that catches your wrist is steady. Firm. Warm. Excuse me, miss, Sterling says, low enough that only you hear. Passengers aren't allowed to enter unaccompanied mid-flight. Safety protocol. His fingers don't let go. Neither does his gaze. He nods toward the lavatory. I'll assist you. The door shuts behind you both. The click is soft. Final. You barely manage to turn before he's behind you, one palm flat on the curve of your lower back. Not pushing. Just there. Present. You're breathing fast, he murmurs. His voice is velvet under tension. Are you frightened? Silence. Or did I not earn your yes, sir yet? Fingertips graze the hem of your skirt—polite, like an introduction. He leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
If I touch you here, I expect you to accept it properly. With manners. Another shift. The space is too tight. Your spine grazes the mirror. And his body blocks the exit like he was born to do it. I'm showing you care, he continues, so soft it barely exists. Now be a good girl… and show me gratitude. Politeness looks good on you. Keep using it.
