Prologue

 

Was the King aware of his son's tyrannical edicts? Punishing, sometimes torturing, poor and unsuspecting peasants at the slightest whim and with unbridled abandon?

Probably yes. But the King's agenda was replete with important matters and though many times he casually uttered cautionary words to his Interior Minister, e.g., 'Prince Imay's deportment needs to be tempered', action was delayed when shortly thereafter the profligate son would actually perform some redeeming deed.

Such was the case with Imay's zoo. Kept for the entertainment of the dozens upon dozens of royal grandchildren, Imay's attention to the collection of exotic animals, assuring for their care and administering to every requirement of the sizable collection, was heart warming. And the children loved visiting..., petting and offering treats in the menagerie of lions, tigers, elephants, antelope, giraffe's, etc.

So it was a fateful day when, soon after a little Princess commented that the zoo had no pigs, Imay's satyrical affection for a rather voluptuous blonde was most inappropriately spurned but in rather timely fashion.

Flown in from a South American country by private jet, the curvy Scandinavian, aspiring to be an actress, had competed in the 'Miss World' contest. Rumor abounded that, had her breasts been just huge, the judges could have overlooked the diverting mounds of attraction. But Miss Erica Stilsen's mammary glands were extraordinary, forcing the apprizing panel, under the guise of political correctness, to select the girls with mere 'talent' for final consideration.

And so, soon after the decision, a disheartened and impoverished Erica Stilsen consented to a covert trip to visit Prince Imay in his Middle Eastern desert country. With the Prince promising an honorarium, which would technically preclude her from entering the forthcoming Miss Universe contest, the naive girl understood that her amateur status mandated the secrecy.

"No one will ever know you've visited here," an eager Imay whispered to Erica on the phone. "The plane will be waiting at a small airport outside of Caracas. By special dispensation, customs and immigration will be waived. Upon signing a simple agreement the funds will be transferred and you'll be on your way."

And for once, Prince Imay did not lie. Erica avoided the closing ceremony where 'Miss World' was selected from the ten finalists and under cover of darkness slipped into the cabin of the long distance jet wearing a baggy raincoat. No customs. No immigration. No witnesses outside of those in the Prince's employ.

The pilot reported that the withered men's trench coat was strained at the chest, confirming he had picked up the correct passenger. The agreement was summarily signed and the crew snickered when she removed the camouflage to sit. All knew full well that her 'goodwill' visit to their small Islamic kingdom was a nothing more than a subterfuge to assuage Prince Imay's carnal interests.

Was Miss Erica the only person deceived by the clandestine invitation?

"Some photos," suggested Prince Imay. "And a wonderful dinner. That's all."

The peasants knew of Prince Imay's veracity, or rather the lack thereof. But Miss Erica had yet to learn of the moral turpitude of the King's favorite son.

Upon entering the Kingdom's airspace, Miss Erica received the first hint of the Prince's intent. A saucy stewardess, suddenly losing her notable humility, handed Miss Erica a garment.

"The Prince strongly suggests that this would be appropriate attire for your visit," the pretty, dark haired, brown-eyed girl ominously declared.

It was phrased as a suggestion. But Miss Erica reflected on the tone of her voice. It insinuated a commandment more than a proposal.

She let the cocktail dress unfurl as the stewardess smiled derisively. It was lewdly brief.

"You will have to change here. The lavatory is locked. And keep in mind that technically we have entered the Kingdom. You're to conduct yourself under our rules and customs."

'Fortunately, the light of dawn is hours away,' thought the beauty contestant. 'And I have appeared in public wearing the flimsiest of bathing suits...'

And so, on a midnight transoceanic flight the curious story of Prince Imay's continuing efforts to stock his zoo begins.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

Miss Erica Stilson arises from the first row of the jet's dozen large seats. She has never before flown in a Gulfstream jet and is amazed with its comfort. The sizable cabin is comprised of six pair of large and stuffed swivel chairs, which one would more likely find in a den or television room than on an aircraft. The rear section of the cabin has a mahogany table surrounded by six less ostentatious chairs. The configuration evidently allows the Prince to hold meetings while traveling and also provides seating for less significant underlings if a large entourage is to travel.

Despite the surprise of the stewardess' demand and being handed a dress so brief it appears to be more suited for a doll than a human, Erica's surroundings bring pleasant thoughts. 'Maybe this Prince is handsome and is seeking a bride,' she thinks, allowing her attention to be diverted from the nearby stewardess. 'Why would he otherwise go through all this expense for some photos?'

She envisions a royal wedding with throngs of loyal subjects cheering as the glamorous 'former' beauty contestant is proudly escorted down the aisle to greet the elegantly attired Prince. Cameras flash and Miss Erica smiles radiantly knowing it will be the last performance where she forces the tedious, well practiced display of her even white teeth for photographers.

"Remove everything please. Only the dress is to be worn. And I'll take those."

The stewardess' firm and even voice interrupts Miss Erica's fantasy. Standing in the aisle with just her brassiere and panties she is folding her clothing when the stewardess regains her attention.

Miss Erica is at first disconcerted with the thought of going naked before the pert girl and having her clothing taken. But she settles her agitation with the realization that the stewardess is a subject of the Prince and will pay a dear price for soiling or misplacing the garments.

And besides, nakedness in the presence of others is not unknown to her. During pageants she has many times peeled in rooms crowded with fellow contestants.

The brassiere is unhooked and seems to utter a 'sigh' of relief as it snaps away from its burden. As stated, Miss Erica Stilsen is amazingly well endowed. And every time the huge mounds are freed and draw her attention she cannot help thinking of an encounter early in her aspiring career when a judge quite frankly suggested that her 'profile' was out of vogue.

"The world has changed young lady. These contests don't stress the T&A factor like the old days. Your shape is counter to the trend..., which seeks talent, intelligence and a tinge of humility."

She is most aware of the diminishing importance of T&A, otherwise referred to as 'tits and ass' outside the contest circuit. And Erica is indeed talented, intelligent and tries to be as humble as she can. But with her breasts proceeding her, any impressions of her other 'attributes' are quickly swallowed up in a burgeoning tide of lust on the part of the male judges..., and envy on the part of those female.

Though receiving acclaim at dozens of contests, Miss Erica has found that the early prognostications of the judge are disappointingly correct. Under the new parameters, she can not win against girls emulating 'Betty Crocker'.

The stewardess snaps the bra and panties from her hands and picks up her remaining clothing. "Your clothes will be stored on the plane to await your return flight," the stewardess logically offers.

But Miss Erica doesn't really hear her words. She is too astounded by the licentious stare of the stewardess. She never before felt uncomfortable standing in deshabille before a female. But the stewardess is gawking, first at her nipples and then at her mons.

"Nicely trimmed. But the Prince will want you shaven."

With an irritating snicker, the stewardess turns. Miss Erica is chagrined to note that the 'locked' lavatory door easily yields to a twist of her hand and her clothing is brusquely tossed into the small chamber.

With a jangle of keys, the stewardess turns her head and again stares at the naked beauty contestant as she locks the lavatory door.

"Your clothes will be most safe," she suggests with a diabolical smile.

Miss Erica ponders her situation. Dawning upon a mind daydreaming of a handsome Prince and a royal wedding is the utter vulnerability of her circumstances.

"Put your dress on, unless you want to show those erect nipples to the crew."

The comment forces Miss Erica back to her reality. Though the garment offers little covering, it is better than complete nakedness. The strapless dress is really nothing more than a narrow potato-sack of sheer, satin-like fabric open at top and bottom.

"It's simple to put on..., either step into it and pull up..., or put your head through it and pull down."

Miss Erica elects the former. When she bends to clasp the thin red cloth between thumb and index finger of the left and right hands her breasts unfold and nearly touch the floor. The stewardess giggles as Miss Erica rights herself and begins tugging upwards. As the dress stretches over shapely calves and perfectly formed knees it becomes even more sheer.

It is apparent that in order to fit, it will conform to her figure like a coat of paint.., hiding nothing..., merely changing the color her feminine form from sun tanned beige to a sultry red about the area of her abdomen and lower torso.

The stewardess gawks as her incredible mammary glands jiggle with her endeavors..., tugging at one side and then the other. Finally busy fingers force the top hem over firmly erect nipples. But that is as far upwards as the tube-like covering will go. When Miss Erica peers downward it becomes evident that the garment's shortness causes her mons to flash.

The stewardess steps forward to assist. Well-manicured fingers slip under the bottom and attempt to adjust. It is a pretense. Miss Erica feels the short, well-trimmed fingernails of a working woman brush her partially exposed outer labia.

"You may consider it short, but it will please the Prince. And you will soon learn that is more important than your modesty."

Miss Erica is stunned into silence as nimble fingertips penetrate her vaginal lips. They are quick, obviously skilled at stealing opportunities to tantalize feminine charms.

Miss Erica has met other girls of the stewardess' ilk..., they worship at the alter of Sapphos..., and she has many times shunned their advances in the dreary changing rooms of various beauty pageants. In the aisle of the Gulfstream cabin however, the ability to resist is limited. Still, Miss Erica steps back in shock.

"You'll find the Prince to be a little gruff there, try not to be too demonstrative of your girlish modesty."

The stewardess laughs with her mild rebuke, mockingly waves her moist fingers before the stunned beauty, then sniffs with exaggerated delight.

"You'll soon learn to be more generous with your charms, Miss Stilsen."

With a devilish smile, the stewardess licks the fragrant essence from her fingers.

"Come here. You will be obedient or I will call the copilot."

Erica realizes there is no place to run or hide. The stewardess has not harmed her. The shock of being so brazenly examined outweighs by far any physical harm. After all, many times her own fingers have explored and much deeper.

With reservation, she slowly steps forward.

"When meeting the Prince, you will most humbly turn down the top hem like this."

The curious fingers reach out and create a two-inch fold in the stretched garment, completely revealing two perfectly shaped and erect nipples. The doubled over hem serves as bustier, plumping the huge mounds and making them appear like an offering on a crimson platter.

"And you will need to create a slightly larger fold here."

As suggested, the lower hem is turned up. Miss Erica's finely trimmed pubes is revealed. She feels more exposed than if she were completely nude.

"And for your own protection, I suggest you be a little moist here."

The fingers reenter Miss Erica's feminine portal. This time with much less resistance.

"The Prince likes to examine his girls here. You'll find his fingers to be much less irritating if you're properly lubricated.

"And he will interpret your wetness as evidence of your arousal in greeting such a handsome figure of royalty. You should consider your offering of moistness to be a sign of respect."

The stewardess steps back for a better view.

"Turn."

Miss Erica complies glad to hide her slowly forming tears of shame.

"Bend a little."

A pause. The sound of a girlish giggle.

"Yes. Your labia are nicely exposed. The Prince will be pleased. I know exactly how you will be photographed. His collection of rear spread shots is unsurpassed."

Miss Erica feels the brash fingers on her buttocks. They move to her rear crevice, gently pushing the red satin between her cheeks to form a crease.

"You'll find that the fine strands of latex woven within the fabric will nicely hold the dress in place. So be sure to hitch it here to make it conform to your derriere. He'll want nothing left to the imagination when displaying you to others."

The stewardess momentarily steps into the plane's small galley and returns.

"I'll need you spread and lying on the table. If it makes it easier for you, I'll call the copilot and have him strap you down. One way or the other, there is one last task to perform."

Miss Erica looks over her shoulder. The dark haired girl's devilish smile appears again. In her hands she holds a razor and can of shaving lotion.