She manages to behave herself

The female security agent escorts Marnie off to a side room. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to remove your clothing."

The woman is perhaps ten years older than Marnie. Her skin is dark, her face displaying the first hints of wrinkles around her eyes but of otherwise smooth complexion. Her black hair is pulled back into a regulation severe bun. She is neither under- nor overweight, but rather of average build and bust. Her bearing suggests that, before this gig, she might have been an athlete, or maybe a dancer of some kind.

We could have some fun with this one, Uhazral says. Marnie can feel the demon's longing. Despite her ongoing shenanigans with Stephen and Katie, it has been days since it has properly corrupted and fed.

No, she chides. Not now. She surprises herself with her firmness, but the last thing she wants to do is make out with some stranger—a security agent, no less—in the middle of an airport.

Uhazral does not argue. She can feel its presence recede—it is still there, watching, but not inclined to interfere for the moment. Still, its past handiwork manages to do that on its own: Marnie's new nudism streak prompts her to not have any problem undressing in front of Ms. Guard.

Not that she has much to take off, of course—might as well make it a good show. She reaches up and pulls open the clasp of the halter strap. She pulls it apart and lets the straps fall to the side, but she holds them in such a way that the dress doesn't immediately slip down her chest. Instead, she peels it away, exposing her breasts one inch at a time. Her pert brown aureolae peek out, followed quickly by her nipples proper, and then her full tits. She rolls the dress down her stomach, past her bellybutton and towards her shaved mons.

The guard takes an involuntary breath. Marnie says nothing, makes no moves that would be considered sexually suggestive. So far she is merely following instructions: she is removing her clothes. Slowly.

The dress finally slides past her mons, exposing the tiny triangle of her pubic hair and the V of her vulva. Her labia are small and unassuming at the moment, but this exhibition is turning Marnie on, and she can feel herself get wetter. In a matter of moments they will be larger, redder, ripe for penetration….

Fuck, Marnie thinks. What the hell is happening to me?

The moment spoiled, Marnie lets her garment drop to the floor. The guard coughs. "Shoes too, please, miss."

Marnie obeys, kicking off the flip-flops. The guard motions to the metal table, which along with a metal chair comprises the sole furniture of the room. "Please face the table, put your hands flat on its surface, and spread your legs." As Marnie does this, she hears the snap of latex gloves covering the guard's hands.

The woman starts at Marnie's shoulders, lightly touching them and moving down each of Marnie's arms. She caresses Marnie's armpits. Next she cups Marnie's breasts, spreads them apart, fondling them slightly. Marnie is pretty sure this is not how a standard search is supposed to go. But it's not like she has any rights while flying, so how could she complain, anyway?

The woman's gloved hands glide along the side of Marnie's ribcage. A finger probes her navel, then the hands land on her ass. She feels her cheeks being slid apart, and a finger runs along her crack before slipping into her asshole. Marnie lets out an involuntary whimper. Meanwhile, the other hand strokes her reddened, wet labia and similarly invades her pussy. Three or four fingers probe that cavity deeply for any hint of contraband.

Finding nothing, the woman withdraws. She perfunctorily pats down Marnie's smooth, bare legs, checks the soles of Marnie's feet. Then she moves back. "OK, miss. Thank you for your cooperation. You may dress while I review your bag, then you will be free to go."