I unzipped my pants and let them fall down to my knees while I tried to focus my thoughts on my very real predicament. The mirror's reflection showed...me staring at the outline of my erection in the candy-striped, pastel pink, micro-fiber fabric. I startled when I heard a knock on the door.It was a very tight fit, but my stewardess squeezed in so that we were face to face; her penetrating green eyes only inches from mine and her breasts brushing against my chest. She had a small bag with her. That was a good sign. She was usually very forthright and certainly not very shy.She leaned over me and began to draw something on my chest. I didn't see what it was. I was focused on her tits. She only drew a few lines. Then she stopped because her rolled up shirt irritated her. To my great disappointment, she pulled it down again, covering her tits. Then, after a second, she changed her mind and pulled it off completely. Great!She leaned over me again and began to draw. She took her own sweet. That could be rather fun.She had plenty of rubber gear in her dungeon, and she had often wonderedhow feasible it was to take a vanilla person and convert them into a truesubmissive or gimp. The challenge was how she might take control of ChrisDresser. She had already sussed that his name was a play on words, andperhaps he was a crossdresser on the quiet.She let him come to the end of his pitch on his wretched program,although having said that, it sounded like it might be useful indeveloping her. With a low growl, you grip both of their members, his and yours, and stroke."Oh!" He arches his back, his head thrown back in ecstasy.You lean down and press your fangs against his throat. You don't break the skin, but he moans in need and want. In desperation and desire. You begin to stroke faster, his hand tangling in your hair and trying to push you closer to his throat."Bite me," he begs. "Bite me, please."You're so hard it's almost painful. You can feel a bead of sweat trickling down your.