SKY-JACKED By Dr. Wu A teen femdom story f teen/M, femdom, cbt, bondage, NC, ball-busting THE STUFF THAT GOES FIRST: This story contains sex and violence. If you are under 18, go play somewhere else. This story and all characters are completely fictional. Copyright 1999 by Dr. Wu. It may be re-posted to any free newsgroup, or archived on any website that does not charge a fee. It may not be archived anywhere that charges a fee. This story is a fairly radical departure for Dr. Wu. My previous work, such as "Toying With Tiffany" and "24-Hour Boy Toy Tiffany" involved a teenaged girl being sexually manipulated my males. In this story in two parts, a teenaged girl has the upper hand over a middle-aged man. I saw a girl in an airport recently and started fantasizing a story, and it just took off in the direction it wanted to go. Hope you like it. E-mail is welcome. Dr. Wu does not e-mail story parts to anyone, but loves to hear from fans or critics. * * * THE OBLIGATORY MUSICAL INTRODUCTION "She's your adolescent dream/ School boy stuff/ A sticky sweet romance/ And she makes you want to scream/ Wishing you could get inside her pants/ So you fantasize away/ While you're squeezing her/ You thought you heard her saying: Good girls don't/ Good girls don't/ Good girls don't/ But I do." - "Good Girls Don't," 1979, by the Knack, one of the all-time all-perv bands SKY-JACKED PART ONE Her T-shirt should have been a warning. It read "GIRLZ RULE, MEN DROOL." The letters were hot pink and vaguely punky-looking, stretched across the front of her otherwise white T-shirt, which was stretched very tightly across her adolescent breasts. Even though I'm 40 years old, I'm not totally out of touch with kids, seeing as how I have a 12-year-old son and a 10-year-old daughter, and I see their friends and what they wear. I've seen girls wearing T- shirts that say GIRLS RULE, BOYS DROOL, and maybe once I saw one that read GIRLZ RULE, GUYS DROOL, but never had I seen one before that singled out men. It seemed a little strange on such a young girl, cause I know from hanging around kids that they hardly ever think of grown-ups except as sources of money or transportation, but I was so interested in everything else about her that I didn't really stop to ponder it. She was sitting in the Delta departure lounge at LAX - that's Los Angeles International - at a little before midnight. She was all alone. Everybody in the lounge was there to take the red-eye back east to Atlanta, so I assumed she was, too. And being a bit of a lech, I spotted her sitting there, all sweet and yummy and teen girly, and decided I would stake out a seat across from her and check her out. Beats the shit out of the Wall Street Journal. I've mentioned the T-shirt, but not how nicely she filled it. Her breasts were not big, not small, just right for a girl her age, which I figured to be about 15 or so. Firm as hell, a nice handful each. I detected slight shadows right about where each nipple would be, and figured she wasn't wearing a bra. Below the waist, she wore a tight denim skirt, and on her feet, delicious little white sandals. One leg was crossed over the over, bobbing up and down unconsciously. Her toenails were red. No more than 5 feet 2 or so, 110 pounds max. Her hair was light brown, and pulled back with a scrunchy into a ponytail. Large green eyes, and long lashes. A sprinkling of freckles across her nose. Very little makeup. You could tell by her grooming that she was probably upper middle-class; something about the clothes, the nice tan, the perfect nails, the air of self-absorption. Possible a private school girl, or if public school, the best public school in the best suburb in her city. Probably spoiled rotten. She was leafing through a Cosmopolitan magazine, oblivious to me and everyone else. I picked up my Journal and pretended to read, but really I just feasted my eyes on her delightfully nubile teenaged body. My eyes burned holes in that T-shirt, and at the dark space where the hem of her skirt met the crossed thighs, trying to get a glimpse of the panties that were just a couple of inches higher. And then she uncrossed her legs. Sat both feet firmly on the floor, almost a foot apart. Suddenly, I could see right up her skirt, could see the little white panties she wore, the fabric at the crotch that covered her little pussy. God almighty, what a view! Here I was, a happily married man and father, vice president of marketing for a telecommunications company, staring at this little schoolgirl's panties. And loving it. I felt like Humbert Humbert when first spied his Lolita, except this girl was obviously older than Lolita. The swell of her breasts, the womanly shapeliness of her legs, the lack of baby fat all indicated she was well into puberty. She was, of course, still a minor, illegal, jailbait, but hey, I wasn't going to fuck her, I was just going to look at her. No harm in that, right? I glanced around, and realized that the way our seats were positioned, no one else could see what I was seeing, nor could they watch me peeping. So I relaxed and enjoyed the view. After a couple of minutes, I thought I saw her glance up from her Cosmo and look at me, but I couldn't be sure. A few seconds later, though, she scrunched down into her seat a couple of inches, which caused the skirt to ride up her thighs, exposing more of her tanned thighs to my gaze. My heart was pounding, but the show was just starting. She reached over to the backpack on the seat next to her - one of those Jansports all the kids carry to school as bookbags, and pulled out a Tootsie Roll pop. She unwrapped the sucker, dropped the wrapper into her bag, and then slowly brought the sucker to her mouth. I was hypnotized. My eyes were probably bulging. Instead of just popping the lollipop into her mouth like I expected her to, though, she brought it up to an inch in front of her mouth, stuck out her little pink teenaged tongue, and took a long lick. Then she took another lick, and another, swiping her tongue along the round hard surface of the sucker. Slurp. Slurp. Slurp. Jesus, I had a hard-on. It felt like I had a crowbar in my pants. Was she doing this on purpose, teasing me? It was hard to believe a youngster like this, all alone in a big airport, would deliberately tease a middle-aged stranger. But how else to account for the panty peek, which was seeming more and more obvious, and the sucker show? My eyes darted up and down, watching her mouth as she licked the sucker, then staring at her panties. My dick seemed to be throbbing in time with my heartbeat. Her combination of innocent appearance and lewd licking was the biggest turn-on I had ever seen. But while I may enjoy looking, I was not about to approach her. She'd probably start screaming or something. I pretended to read my paper, glancing around the edges, while Little Miss Mouth licked and licked and licked. Oh, Jeez, my dick. At one point, I thought I saw her look at me, a quick glance, followed by a secret little smile. But I was probably just projecting my fantasies onto her. Like she's going to smile at being ogled by a middle-aged man. On the other hand, this crotch-exposing and sucker-sucking didn't seem to be the actions of a girl oblivious to male attention. Just then a man approached and sat down on the other side of the cutie. "Hi, Daddy!" she squeaked, and the man handed her a Coke in a cup. I kept my face buried in my paper, glad I had kept my seat. Pretty soon they called our flight, and we boarded. By then my erection had subsided, thank God. I got my window seat, and saw my little cutie take her seat a couple of rows ahead, on the aisle. Daddy wasn't with her; she was flying alone. But it was time to forget about her and think about sleeping. I had lucked out: The seat next to me was empty. I pulled one of the crappy little airline pillows and a dark-blue blanket from the overhead bin and prepared to settle in for some sleep on the flight back to Atlanta. For those of you who've never taken the red-eye, here's how it works. Everyone takes pillows and blankets and settles in. The attendants rattle off their usual safety spiel, the plane takes off, and then they turn off all the lights in the cabin. Everyone taking the red-eye as the same plan: get as much sleep as possible. The attendants don't go up and down the aisle with the drinks cart, no food is served, no movie is shown. The Delta flight takes off from LAX at midnight and lands in Atlanta at 6:30 a.m. It's a three and one-half hour flight, and the other three hours is the time zone change. The attendants did their blah-blah and soon we were airborne. The inside of the cabin was very dark, and I could hear heavy breathing all around me. I put the pillow against the side of the plane, leaned into it, pulled the blanket up to my chin and down over my knees, and went to sleep. In re-constructing the time later, I must have slept for about half an hour. I was awakened by a girl's voice, which came from right next to my ear. "Hey, mister. Wake up, mister. I'm bored." It was, of course, my little friend from the departure gate. She had moved into the open seat next to me. I opened my eyes and looked at her, but in the darkness I could barely see her. I could smell her breath, though, a sweet smell of lollipops and fruit-flavored little girl lip gloss. Her face was inches from mine. "Talk to me, please, mister. I'm bored." "What do you want?" I asked her. "I want to talk. I'm bored. What's your name, mister?" "Jim," I replied. "Jim what?" "Jim Coxman." She giggled. "Coxman? You're making that up. It sounds like a porno star." I had a couple of reactions to this. First, no one likes to have their name mocked, even though I've gotten grief throughout my life for my name. It's a fine old Anglo-Saxon name, and probably my ancestors went through life without people giggling over it. These days, though, it was one fuckin' joke after another. And my other reaction was that I was turned on when she said "porno." Hearing this innocent-looking teenager say "porno," and all that it implied about her worldliness, gave me a little rush, a stirring in my crotch. Down, boy. "No, really, that's my name," I said. "What's yours?" "Jennifer. But my last name isn't Pussywoman." she giggled again. Jeez, I thought, I've got a major tease on my hands. Was talking all she had in mind? But then she asked: "Are you married, Jim?" "Yeah, I am." "And what do you do?" "I'm a vice president of a company in Atlanta." "Ooh," she cooed. "A vice president. And a real Coxman. Are you a real Coxman, Jim?" I was embarrassed, and horribly, horribly turned on. My cock was getting hard in my pants, and I was glad for the darkness and the blanket, or she would have been able to see it. On the other hand, the way she was talking, she probably wouldn't be surprised at my growing erection. I didn't answer her question. She was silent for a minute. Then: "I saw you looking at me back there in the airport." Shit. Shit. Shit. "I noticed you," I said, trying to play safe. "You did more than notice me," she said. Her voice was so soft, so young, so innocent. "You were like scoping me out big-time, you know? If your eyes were lasers, you would have burned a whole in my panties, Mister Jim. Then when my panties were like all burned away by your laser- eyes, they would have like started warming up what's underneath my panties. Are you interested in what's underneath my little panties, Jim the Coxman?" Fuck me. What was this little harlot up to? She obviously was no innocent little schoolgirl. I decided I needed to change the subject. "How old are you?" I asked. "I'm 14," she said. "Just turned 14 last week. I'll be a freshman this fall in high school." "Jesus," I muttered," you're young enough to be my daughter." "Do you want to pretend to be daddy and daughter?" she said, so sweetly. "I played daddy and daughter one time with a teacher at my school. He liked it a lot, I think." "God no, I don't want to play daddy and daughter," I blurted. I may be a pervert, but even perverts have their standards! "Then what do you want to play, Mr. Coxman?" She made it sound so dirty. I had never wished so much that I had a different name. At the same time, I had never wanted to hear someone say my name again the way I wanted little Jennifer to say it over and over. I took a deep breath. I had to put an end to this. A stewardess could come by, and see me with this little girl, and it wouldn't take a lot of brains to figure out something was very wrong with this picture. "I want to go back to sleep," I told her. Of course, I really didn't. I wanted to fuck the ever-lovin' shit out of young Jennifer, ram my cock up her teenaged twat over and over until I filled her full of hot sperm. But I was a married man, with responsibilities, and I couldn't do that. "But I don't want you to go back to sleep," Jennifer said. "I want to play. Don't you want to play?" I could still smell that sweet breath. She'd started leaning in closer and closer to me over the course of this conversation, until her face was practically touching mine. When she exhaled, I could feel her breath on my face. My crotch was throbbing. I was trying to do the right thing, for God's sake, and this teenaged minx wouldn't let me! "OK, Mr. Coxman, I'll be honest with you," she told me. "I saw you checking me out back at the airport, and it turned me on. So I put on a little show for you. Did you like my little show? I think you did, cause I could see something in your pants that made me think you liked what you were seeing." "Yeah, but then your dad came along," I said, still trying desperately to change the subject. "Daddy was just seeing me off. My parents are divorced. Dad lives in LA, mom lives in Atlanta. I spent a couple weeks with Dad, and now I'm going home. But I don't want to talk about daddy. I want to talk about what was going on in your pants in the airport. And I have a question for you, Mr. Coxman. Is the same thing going on now? And I felt her hand. Her 14-year-old hand was suddenly right on the front of my pants, touching my engorged cock. It lay there for just a second, and then she curled her fingers around it, through the fabric, and squeezed my dick. "Oh, God," was all I could manage to say. "Ooh, Mr. Coxman," Jennifer whispered. "Maybe I ought to call you Big Jim. Are you normally like this, or is it because you're, you know, sitting next to a sexy girl? " "Jennifer, please go back to your seat," I managed to rasp out. "I don't think so, Big Jim," she said. Her hand started moving, slowly, teasingly, up and down on my cock, still holding on, jacking me off through my khakis. "And I don't think you really want me to. Don't you want me to stay here and keep touching you? How about if I gave you a little handjob? Or maybe even something better than a handjob? How about if I pulled your dick out of your pants, and put my head under the blanket, and licked your big ol' dick the way I licked that sucker back in the airport? And how about if I kept on licking until you spurted your sperm right into my hot little mouth?" Well, fuck. As Popeye says, that's all I can stands, I can't stands no more. I had tried. But everyone around us was asleep, I desperately wanted this girl with every fiber of my being, she was the one who was advancing the game. And if 14-year-old Jennifer wanted to give me a blowjob, well, I just wasn't going to say no. "Yes, I would like that," I whispered to Jennifer. "I thought you would," she said, gleefully. "But instead of just pulling your dick out through your zipper, why don't you like pull your pants down? That way I can be more creative and you won't run the risk of your dick scraping against your zipper, you know? Don't worry, it's dark, no one can see." Once I had committed to going along with her, there was no stopping. I didn't even think about it. I unbuckled my belt, and slid my trousers and jockeys down over my knees, all the way to my ankles. Instantly, I felt her hand on my now-naked cock. My cock was so hot and her hand was so soft and so cool. She made a gentle fist around the shaft and began to jack me slowly, up and down. I was so turned on, so churning with horniness, that it actually felt better than fucking. It was so dirty, such forbidden fruit, feeling this teenager's hand on my cock. Then she stopped. "Scuse me a minute, big guy, but I got something that will make this even better." Her hand disappeared, and I was aware of her bending over in her seat and rummaging around. She must have brought her backpack with her and set it on the floor. Soon she was back, cuddling up next to me, leaning in to me, and I smelled something. Coconut oil. Suntan lotion! "I'm told that it feels better with a little lotion for the motion," she said, and giggled again, that little-girl giggle that had sounded so innocent before but now sounded depraved. I heard the squirting sound - it wasn't me, not yet - and she gooped the lotion into her hand and then went back to massaging my hard-on. Christ, that felt even better! The cool lotion, my hot, hot blazing hot dick, all of it being done surreptitiously, under the blankets. My eyes had adjusted to the dim light now and I could see little Jennifer next to me. Her eyes were huge and danced with lasciviousness. "I'll bet that feels, like, pretty good, doesn't it?" she whispered. "Oh, God, yes," I moaned, very softly, being sure not to wake anybody up. "I like doing older guys," she said. "I did a lot of the boys in my eighth grade class, and they were kind of fun at first, but then I got tired of them. I seduced my math teacher, and once I found out how grateful older guys are, and how much they get off on doing stuff with a little girl like me, I concentrate now on doing men rather than boys." "Are you a virgin?" I managed to rasp out. Up and down went her slick, slick hand, making a slight squeaking noise in the dark. "Of course I'm a virgin, silly," she said. "I'm only 14! It's not like I'm a slut or something.." Actually, I had just been thinking that a slut is exactly what she was. "I don't get it," I said. "Well, Mr. Happy here sure gets it," she said. Again, that giggle. Up down up down squeak squeak Jennifer's little hand is jacking me off, getting me closer and closer. "When I have sex, I want it to be on my terms, when I decide, and not just because some guy is panting after me. Anyway, stuff like this isn't real sex, is it? Didn't you like learn anything from President Clinton and Monica Lewinsky?" "Do you want me to do something to you?" I asked, hoping maybe I could get my hand up under that skirt and feel what I was sure was the nicest pussy God ever made. "No, I don't want your nasty old hands fondling me," she said, rather harshly, which puzzled me. But then her tone changed. "I took my panties off up in my seat. Once I start using my mouth on you, I'll have a free hand and I'll diddle myself." I would have thought my dick was as hard as it could possibly get, but when she told me she was going to masturbate while blowing me, it got even harder. It felt like it was going to burst. "Whatever," I said, "just please don't stop." And she stopped. And pulled her hand away. Damn, I had been so close! "Why did you stop?" I asked, trying not to whine. "I want to take it to the next level, Mr. Coxman. I want to put my head under your blanket and blow you. Would you like that?" "Yes, God yes, please blow me Jennifer." "OK, but before I do that, you have to go along with my part of the game." "What's that?" I asked. "I want to tie your hands behind your back," Jennifer said. "It turns me on. And when I'm turned on, I give a better blow job." Well, fuck. Normally getting tied up is not my particular cup of kinkiness. I tried it once, years ago, and didn't care for it. But frankly at this point if Jennifer had said she wanted to cut off one of my toes with a pair of pruning shears, I probably would have gone along with her. My dick was so hard it was starting to hurt, my balls were swollen and aching (I'd been on a business trip for a week with no sex and not even any masturbation), and I wanted that little 14-year-old mouth stretched over the head of my cock so damn bad. You know the old joke: God gave a man two heads, a little one and a big one, and enough blood so that only one could think at a time. My little head was now doing all the thinking. "OK," I croaked. "Tie me up." "Cool!" she said. Back to the backpack, and this time she pulled out a pair of pantyhose. It was hard in the dark, but I crossed my wrists behind my back the way she instructed, turned in my seat so my back was to her, and she tied my wrists with the pantyhose. Damn, did she tie them. I hadn't been expecting such a thorough job. Looped over and under and through and tied off tight. Houdini himself couldn't have gotten out of those knotted hose. I re-twisted and sat back down. Essentially I was sitting on my arms now, and knew they would go to sleep shortly. But then if I had Jennifer sucking my dick I didn't care what happened to my arms. My erection was starting to get uncomfortable. Her tiny little hand returned, this time rubbing lotion with her fingertips on the head of my cock, which felt like it was the size of a grapefruit! Those little fingers, all slick with suntan lotion, swirling around and around, so teasing, oh man. And again she stopped. Fuck, what was the deal, anyway. This time she reached up behind her head and pulled the Scrunchy off her ponytail. For guys who aren't familiar with teenaged girls, the Scrunchy is a pony tail holder made of cloth with elastic inside. She took the Scruncy and started rummaging around under the blanket. "Hey! Shit! Be careful with those!" I hissed, again, not too loud. She was playing with my balls. I felt the Scrunchy go up over my scrotum to the base, then she twisted it and wrapped it around a second time, like a rubber band. It wasn't too tight, and didn't pinch, but it had the effect of mashing my balls close together and down to the bottom of my sac. They were pressed together very tight now, with no room to move around. Again, not my idea of fun, but once she put her mouth on me, all else would melt away. "Are you liking this, Mr. Coxman? Do you like what I'm doing to you?" she whispered. The smell of the gum on her breath mingled with the smell of the coconut oil coming from under the blanket. Teenage girl smells. My cock throbbed as she continued to rub her littler fingers around and around on the tip. "I love it, Jennifer. I love what you're doing to me." "Would you like to call me dirty names while I do you, Jim?" "Oh, you little tease, you little slut. You are such a sexy little slut, Jennifer." "I told you, I'm not a slut, you asshole!" she hissed. Again, the sudden swing from being the most willing little girl in the world to being pissed off at me. Was this chick psycho or something? She'd asked me to call her names, for God's sake! "I'm gonna have to punish you for calling me a slut, Jim," she said. "I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to punish you real, real bad, you know?." And that's when the game turned. I tried to be stern with her, but the helplessness of my position was beginning to dawn on me. "You're very sexy, Jennifer," I said. "I'm sorry I called you a slut. I got carried away because you're so damn sexy." "It's too late now, Jim-boy," the girl said. "Let me tell you how this is gonna work. I'm gonna reach down and grab your balls in my hand. And I'm gonna squeeze 'em. I'm gonna squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until you can't stand it anymore. And you know what, Jim? You're not gonna do a thing about it. You're not gonna make a sound." I was starting to panic. What the hell kind of game was this? "I'll yell," I told her. "I'll yell for help." "Oh no you won't, Mister," Jennifer purred. She was back to being sexy-voiced now, and I could tell she was getting even more turned on by this stage of the game. "Think about it. If you make so much as a peep, I'll scream, you know?. And I'll like start yelling that you were trying to molest me. And the attendants will come running, and the lights will go on, and everyone will wake up. And you know what they'll see? They'll see a middle-aged man with his pants pulled all the way down and a big stiff woodie waving in the air. They'll see your hand tied with my pantyhose, but I'll like tell everyone you stole them out of my backpack while I was asleep and they'll just assume like it's some sort of perverted game you were playing. And I'll be crying and like sobbing that you lured me back here and tried to make me touch your dirty old penis, you know? "Who do you think they're going to believe, like some guy with his pants down and his dick hard, or a hysterical teenaged girl? What do you think your wife will say, Jimbo? Will she believe that you were tricked and trapped? What will your boss say when he finds out you were like arrested for trying to molest an underaged girl? Think you'll keep that vice president's job? Or do you think maybe you'll be arrested and hauled off to jail and your wife will divorce you and take your kids away cause you're like such a total pervert and you'll lose your job?" "Jennifer, please, listen to me..." I was sweating now. My arms were terribly uncomfortable pinned behind me, but my cock was still hard as an iron bar. Throughout her whole incredible little soliloquy, she had kept her hand moving on my cock, and it was still hard. I told her to listen to me, but I realized there was nothing I could say to counter her. She was absolutely right. I was helpless, and hers to do with as she pleased, to give me pain or pleasure. All I could do was beg for mercy, and I hated the thought of begging a 14-year-old girl. "Jennifer, please..." I began again, but she cut me off. "Shut up, Jim. Just answer me this one question. Like when I squeeze your balls, are you going to make a sound?" "No, Jennifer, I won't make a sound. But please don't do this to me. You have no idea how sensitive a guy's balls are. You could ruin me for life. Please don't do this." She leaned over and kissed me. It was perhaps the biggest surprise yet in a night that had been full of them. From out of nowhere, her mouth clamped over mine. I could taste her breath, fel her lips sealing over my lips. Her tongue began to probe into my mouth, and instinctively I relaxed and opened my mouth and let that delightful, delicious tongue enter my mouth. And just as suddenly, her hand moved away from my cock and gripped my scrotum. And Jennifer began to squeeze my balls. * * * SKY-JACKED PART TWO Because she had tied my balls off with the Scrunchy, they had nowhere to go. They were trapped tightly in my scrotum, side by side against each other, and couldn't even escape upward. She began increasing the pressure, and the pain began to build. And build. And build. Oh, God, you can't imagine how bad it hurt. Her hand, although small, was still large enough to get both my nuts firmly in its grasp. She didn''t alternate, squeezing and releasing, and she didn't pull down, or anything. She just squeezed, tighter and tighter and tighter. The pain was unbearable. I thought I was going to die. Beads of sweat were popping out on my forehead, and I'm sure my face was turning bright red. I thrashed around, trying to dislodge her, but her grip was like iron. I bucked my pelvis up and down in my seat, strained at the pantyhose binding my wrists, but just felt the knots getting tighter the more I pulled at them. After maybe 15 or 20 second of agonizing, nut-busting pressure, I screamed. I couldn't help it. But since she was still kissing me, still had her lips sealed over mine and her tongue down my throat, my scream just went straight into her mouth. No one could hear me. It was like she was sucking the scream out of me, feeding on my pain. At 30 seconds, my eyesight was blurring and I was seeing stars. I felt myself wavering on the brink of unconsciousness, about to pass out from the worst agony I had ever felt in my life. And she released me. Thank God, I thought, she had enough sense to release me. My poor balls ached so badly though from her vise-like grip on my scrotum.. God were they sore! She broke the kiss and pulled her face back a couple of inches. I caught my breath and forced myself to whisper so I wouldn't wake anyone up. "God, Jennifer, please, honey, don't do that to me anymore. I can't stand it. You have no idea how badly that hurts a guy. You're gonna kill me or give me a heart attack." "Oh, come on," she said, and the devilish little giggle returned. "You're a big strong man and I'm just a little girl. You must outweigh me by 100 pounds. You mean a little girl like me can hurt a big man like you so easily?" She was enjoying this so much. I, on the other hand, could not figure out what her game was, except that she was in charge and I was just along for the ride. "You know, we've got, like, over an hour before we start approaching Atlanta and they turn on the lights, Jimmy-baby. Over an hour. And we're gonna play for that whole time. And if you're really good and don't make any noise, and I enjoy myself, at the end of the hour I'll let you cum. In my mouth. That's still what you want, isn't it? To spurt into my mouth? To fill my mouth up with your sperm and have me swallow it all down into my tummy? Isn't that what you want?" "Yes, Jennifer, please. But don't hurt my balls anymore, honey." "I'm afraid I have to, Jim," she said, matter-of-factly. "Now take a deep breath and close your mouth, cause I'm gonna grab your nads again." I obeyed her, knowing that the worst thing I could do would be to scream and draw attention to us. Her hand encircled my scrotum again, and started squeezing. The second time was worse than the first, cause my poor abused nuts were already aching from the first time. She squeezed and squeezed, as if she were trying to make them explode inside my sac. The pain was overwhelming, and I felt as if my balls and even my entire body was about to explode. But again, she stopped. "How ya doin', big boy?" she whispered. "Hangin' in there?" "Jennifer, please, isn't there some other game we could play? I wouldn't even have to cum. I could make you cum. Wouldn't that feel nice?" "I told you, I don't want your filthy old-man hands on my body!" she hissed. "So just shut up about that and take what's coming to you!" "But why is this coming to me?" I asked. "What have I ever done to you?" "You want to know? I'll tell you, asshole. Back there at LAX, I was minding my own business and along you come and sit down right across from me and start staring at me. I could feel the horniness just radiating out of you. You were molesting me with your eyes, raping me with your eyes. "Men do that all the time to me and to my friends. Teachers are always, like, trying to look up my dress in class, or they ogle my tits whether I'm wearing a bra or not. I go to the beach and guys whistle at me and yell "Hey babe, nice tits" and "Hey come here I got something for you!" I go to my family reunion and my uncle gets drunk and tries to get me to sit on his lap or play a "tickling game" with me. The boys my age, I understand. There's at least a chance I might date them if they're OK- looking or nice, and they've got hormones and they can't help it. But you men just creep me out. You're all a bunch of fuckin' perverts! "So this is, like, my little revenge on all you old perverts," Jennifer continued. "I found out a few months ago how easy it is to lead you guys around by your dicks. And I've been kind of refining my technique, and you're my latest project, Jimmy-baby. I'm making you pay for eye-balling me back at LAX, and I'm making you pay for all the other girls you've eye-balled and fantasized about fucking. I tease you and hurt you, and tease you and hurt you." She was finished. And fuck, so was I. I realized now there was no getting away from this cruel, depraved little girl. I was totally at her mercy for the next hour or so. By this time my dick had gone limp, from all the pain. Not completely limp, more like half-mast. There was still some blood in the old guy, though, and Jennifer started caressing my cock again with her hand. She rubbed her hand up and down, her palm sliding in the tanning lotion. And of course, he came to life almost instantly, springing to attention like a good little soldier. Jennifer once again reached into her bag of tricks; I had no idea what was coming next. "Know what I've got here now?" she crowed. "It's my toothbrush. I'm gonna give your dick a good brushing. And when I'm done, I won't clean it off. I'll just take it home with me, and every time I brush my teeth I'll be able to taste your cock." Son of a bitch, she really knew what to say to turn a guy on! My dick was hard again, rampant, ready to burst. My nuts still ached a little, but I was back to concentrating on my dick. She touched her toothbrush to the sensitive underside of the shaft, and began to drag it gently up and down. She'd go all the way up to where the head began to jut out, to that unbelievably sensitive little patch of skin on the underside, and then she'd slide it back down to the Scrunchy around my scrotum. Up and down, up and down. She moved the brush around to the side, and then around to the topside of the shaft, still going up and down gently. Never in my weirdest fantasies had I thought about having a teenaged girl gently scrub and tease my cock with her toothbrush, but it was intensely erotic. It stimulated me without really bringing me closer to an orgasm, the way a straight handjob would have. The bristles tickled my skin. It was heavenly, even as it was frustrating. Then young Jennifer moved her toothbrush to the head of my penis, which was throbbing and engorged. "You like this, don't you?" she whispered to me. "Which do you like more, my toothbrush teasing your big ol' cock, or the thought of me taking it home and brushing my pretty little teeth with it?" "Oh, God, Jennifer," I groaned softly. "You are so sexy. Please just let me cum." "Not yet, big boy," she said. She continued to push the toothbrush around and around in circles on the head of my cock, the bristles tickling, driving me insane. I was helpless and having my cock tormented by a teenaged girl I had just met, and I'd never been so turned on in my life. And, of course, she stopped. "I think you're getting a little too turned on, Big Jim," she said. "Time to bring you back to earth." I knew what was coming and braced myself, and sure enough, she began to squeeze my poor nuts again. Harder and harder. Oh shit, the pain was unbearable. I was nauseous, afraid I might throw up right there from the pain. She was squeezing me so hard, and my dick was starting to go limp. She stopped. Thank God, she stopped. "How ya doin' Jimmy?" she asked. "Want to try a little combination platter?" I wasn't sure what a combination platter was, or if I wanted to know. But I had no say in the matter. She ducked her head under the blanket that was spread over my torso, and instantly I felt what I had been dying to feel. Jennifer's warm, moist, sweet mouth engulfed the head of my cock! Fuck, what a feeling! Her velvety tongue began swirling around the tip of my cock, making lazy wet circles. She pushed her head down an inch and took a little of the shaft into her mouth. I was dying to thrust upward and force her to deep-throat me, but I had a feeling that would piss her off, and the last thing I wanted to do was make her angry. So far she had been torturing me rather calmly. What would she be like if she were mad? Slurping, slurping, slurping away. I was getting blown by a beautiful but deeply disturbed 14-year-old girl on the red-eye flight. Of course, it was inevitable that my bliss would not go on forever, and I felt her hand once again encircle my nuts and begin to squeeze again. I doubt that any man in history has ever felt such a combination of intense pleasure and intense pain. Her mouth was so hot and wet and sexy, and my cock was so hard. But her grip on my balls got tighter and tighter, tighter than it had ever been in any of the previous times. I was seeing stars, I was freaking out, I was going to pass out from the combination. The fucking combination platter, she had called it. Finally, she stopped both the pleasure and the pain. Stopped the sucking and the squeezing. I hated to feel her mouth come off me, but was so relieved to feel her hand leave my scrotum. I thought I could feel ridges in my scrotum where her fingernails had dug in hard. At this point in my ordeal, Jennifer ran out of new twists, new ways to either make me feel great or horrible. But she had not run out of steam. For the next hour, she worked me. She spread lotion on her hands and jacked me off, always stopping short of allowing me to have an orgasm. She toyed with the head of my cock with her fingers. She tormented me with the toothbrush, sometimes so soft I could barely feel it touching my skin, sometimes rubbing so hard I thought she would scrape the skin right off my penis. And she kept hurting me. I don't know how many total minutes my balls spent in the hot palm of her little hand, having the life squeezed out of them, but every second she was doing it felt like an eternity. My stomach ached, I was nauseous. My hands had long ago fallen asleep because she had tied my wrists so tight, and my arms ached horribly from being pinned behind me. I was her prisoner, her toy, her plaything, and I couldn't do a fucking thing about it. If I called for help or even moaned too loud, she'd scream "Rape!" and my life would be over. Finally, I heard her say to me: OK, Mr Big Jim the Coxman, I think playtime's just about over. I need to get back in my seat before we get to close to Atlanta. And since you've played along with me, I think the least I can do is, like, give you a reward. So it's time to cum. You ready?" "God, yes, Jennifer, please. I'll do anything." Well, I figure there's two ways you can cum. I could just jack you off and let you spurt all over everything. You'd get your nasty ol' sperm all over your shirt, and probably the seat in front of you and maybe even on the ceiling cause you'll be cumming so hard. Or I can put my head back in your lap and take it in my mouth. I'll let you cum in my mouth, and I'll swallow it all down. Which one do you want, Mister?" "In your mouth, Jennifer honey, please, baby, please, in your mouth," I begged. "OK, but it's gonna cost you." "How much?" "Hos much do you have? I know, I'll just check your wallet." She disappeared below the blanket again and I could feel her rummaging around in my pants, which were down around my ankles. She re-appeared, holding my wallet, opened it, and took out the cash. "Hmm, whoa, what have we here? Looks like about $300, Mr. Coxman. Are you rich?" "Not really. I said. That's part of my expense account advance for my trip. I have to give it back when I get back to work." "Well, it's your decision," she said. "Keep the money and try to get all the sperm mopped up before we land, or give me the money and cum in my mouth. What's it gonna be?" "Take the money," I said hoarsely. "Take it all." "Don't mind if I do," she said, and giggled again. "Oh, and here's your business card. I'll take one of these, too. Maybe I'll look you up later in Atlanta, Jimmy-baby." Before I had a chance to protest, she pocketed the money and my business card and bent over me. Her head disappeared below the blanket, and she took me in her mouth again. I didn't know if, at any moment, this might be some kind of trick and she might start crushing my nuts again. But she didn't. She began to suck my cock, and then I felt one hand encircle my shaft and begin to pump up and down in a slow, steady rhythm. The suntan lotion still made my hard-on wet and slippery, and her had slid up and down, while her mouth bobbed on my cock. I felt her tongue reach down and begin to make slow, wet circles around the bulbous head. Fuck, I was out of my mind. I'd been hard for more than an hour, sitting next to this nasty little youngster, being teased and put through brutal agony. And now it was finally all coming to an end. Jennifer was sucking my woodie as if it were a popsicle and she was dying of thirst, her little hand slid up and down, up and down, up and down. I could feel the semen boiling in my balls, getting ready to erupt. I wanted to hold her head in place to make sure she didn't remove that incredible sucking schoolgirl mouth, but my hands were tied and I couldn't. I had to just trust that she would keep on going. And I came. There are no words to describe how powerful and intense my orgasm was. My cock felt like a firehose hooked up to a hydrant, bulging and thrashing with power, and my seed was gushing out of my cock with incredible force. It felt like quarts of cum, and I squirted and squirted into her hot teen mouth, and I could feel her throat working, swallowing and swallowing. My balls throbbed and ached, I wasn't sure whether it was the lingering pain of her nut-crushing or the force of my orgasm, and still I was gushing, and still she was swallowing, and her tongue scraped over and over the head of my cock. I was done. She lifted her head, and looked at me. "Give me a kiss," she said sweetly, and I leaned over and kissed her, open-mouthed. I could taste my sperm on her tongue as we probed each other's mouths in a deep, passionate kiss. She broke it off. "Whoa, man, that was a ton of sperm," she said. Giggle, giggle, like she was describing a quantity of Halloween candy. "OK, let's get back to normal." Suddenly she was business-like, efficient. She leaned me forward, picked at the knots on the pantyhose and soon had me untied. I reached down and pulled up my pants and fastened them. She stowed her pantyhose and toothbrush back in her Jansport knapsack. My $300 was in the pocket of her denim skirt. "Well, Mr. Jim Coxman, that was, I don't know, kinda cool. You know?" And she got up and went back to her seat. THE END