Chapter 8

I stepped onto the plane, the soles of my boots making soft sounds against the carpeted aisle as I made my way toward the back. A satisfied smirk played on my lips, still tasting the sweet remnants of that cute girl from the bookstore. One command and she'd enthusiastically abandoned her shift early for me. We'd found a quiet corner, and I'd had some fun. Nothing too intense, just enough to whet my appetite. My first official act as a new, temporary Owner of All Women. The title had a nice ring to it, I thought, adjusting my carry-on bag on my shoulder.

As I found my seat, 17E, a middle seat wedged between two overweight businessmen who were already sweating, the reality of economy class came crashing down. The legroom was practically nonexistent, the seat felt like it was designed by someone who actively hated human comfort, and the guy in the window seat was already snoring, his head lolled against the glass.

Fuck this.

I made my way back toward the front of the plane. The flight attendants were too busy with pre-flight preparations to notice me slipping through the curtain that separated the plebeians from the chosen few in first class.

The contrast was staggering. Plush, wide seats that looked more like thrones than aircraft accommodations. Actual legroom. Glassware instead of plastic. And there, in the first row, sat a woman who looked like money itself had taken human form. Late fifties, perfectly coiffed silver hair pulled back in an elegant chignon, wearing a tailored suit that probably cost more than my monthly rent. Next to her sat a man of similar age, equally well-dressed in a bespoke business suit, with a face that could charitably be described as "distinctive": large nose, jowly, with the kind of self-satisfied expression that comes from a lifetime of never being told no.

I stopped directly beside the woman, hovering slightly over her. She was flipping through a copy of The Economist, her diamond bracelet catching the cabin light.

"Excuse me," I said, my voice polite but firm.

She didn't look up, just turned a page with an annoyed flick of her wrist. The man beside her glanced at me with thinly veiled contempt before returning to whatever important business he was conducting on his tablet.

I cleared my throat and spoke again, louder this time. "Excuse me."

Finally, she lowered her magazine, her eyes, cold and blue, finding mine. And then it happened. That flicker of recognition I'd been seeing all day. Her annoyance melted away, replaced by something else entirely. Something slightly deferential.

"Oh, my apologies," she said, her voice exactly as I'd imagined: cultured, expensive, with an undercurrent of steel. "Would you like me to lick your pussy? I've never done it before, but I'll try my best if you want me to..."

The man beside her dropped his tablet, the clatter drawing attention from a nearby flight attendant. "Darling, what on earth are you saying?" he sputtered, his face turning an alarming shade of red.

"She's an owner, Harold!" the woman hissed at him, her eyes still fixed on me. Her husband pouted petulantly as he processed her words.

I chuckled, enjoying their discomfort. "Thanks for the offer. I'm good," I said, waving a dismissive hand. "You're not really my type anyway. But I would like your seat. Mine is in the back, middle row. You can take that one instead."

The woman's composure finally cracked, her aristocratic features twisting with disdain. "I beg your pardon? This seat cost—"

"I wasn't asking," I interrupted, my tone leaving no room for argument. "You're going to take my seat, and I'm going to take yours. Right now."

Her husband finally found his voice, standing up to his full height, which wasn't much, and puffing out his chest. "Now see here! Owner or not, this is preposterous! You can't just—"

"You will trade seats with me," I commanded, locking eyes with the woman. "Do it now, and don't make a fuss about it. Find that you're quite content with your new seat."

The change was immediate. The woman's expression smoothed out, all traces of resistance vanishing. "Of course," she said, as if it were the most natural request in the world. She began gathering her things. "I'm sure your seat is perfectly adequate."

I smirked. Oliver had commanded women to no longer feel compelled to please or obey him. His commands specifically mentioned him. I wasn't him. The magic wasn't locked away for me.

Harold stared at his wife, mouth agape. "Eleanor!" he protested mildly. He knew of my privileges, of course, he just didn't like them being used on him. Or his wife...

"Make sure your husband doesn't bother me during this flight," I added, watching as she calmly packed away her stuff. "Have him be quiet and agreeable about the whole situation."

"He won't be any trouble at all," she assured me, patting Harold's arm. "Isn't that right, dear?" The look on her face was all the command he needed. I had no idea what kind of leverage she held over him, but he deflated like a punctured balloon.

"Right," Harold mumbled, clearly trying to preserve some semblance of dignity while being thoroughly emasculated in first class. "If Eleanor's fine with it, I'm fine with it."

"Excuse me, miss?" A flight attendant appeared beside us, her expression professionally concerned. She was pretty hot, in that perky stewardess way, with a name tag that read "Susan." Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she had a carefully maintained smile that didn't quite reached her eyes. "I'm afraid you can't just swap seats like this. First class is—" she started explaining.

"Listen carefully, Susan," I said, lowering my voice to a confidential tone as I leaned closer. Eleanor was already halfway down the aisle, the poor flight attendant watching her go with a panicked expression. "This is MY flight. I'll do whatever the fuck I want, got it?" My gaze drifted down appreciatively.

Other passengers nearby were watching the exchange with mild irritation, the men obviously more bothered than the women, but aware there was nothing they could do.

Susan blinked, her flight attendant training warring with her understanding of who I was, or rather what I was to her. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that you—" she started again, her voice firm, but I could see the conflict in her eyes.

I cut her off with a dismissive wave. "You're not insisting anything," I said, letting the edge creep into my voice. "Let me do whatever the fuck I want. Be happy about it. And what the hell, bring me some champagne once we're cruising. The good stuff. For free, obviously." I smirked, watching her expression shift from professional resistance to a bright smile.

"Yes, of course, ma'am!" she chirped, her previous hesitation completely gone. "Right away! It's a pleasure to have you flying with us today. Is there anything else I can get for you? Anything at all?" Her eyes were bright with a newly found enthusiasm, her body language completely open and eager.

I couldn't help but laugh. I ogled Susan more openly, enjoying the way her uniform clung to her curves. "I wouldn't want to keep you from your duties," I told her with a grin. "Maybe later." I winked at her, and she actually chuckled, a light, tinkling sound, before scurrying off to take care of other pre-flight duties, casting happy glances my way every few seconds.

I settled into my new throne of a seat, stretching my legs out with a contented sigh. Harold shifted awkwardly in his own seat beside me, trying to pretend I wasn't there. He was pointedly staring out the window, though the view was of nothing but the side of the airport terminal.

The usual announcements droned on about safety procedures and emergency exits. The fasten seatbelt sign came on as we began taxiing. I ignored the demonstration of oxygen masks and life vests, instead looking around to see if there were any other first-class passengers I might want to... invite to join the mile-high club. A few rows back, I spotted a striking woman with sharp features and dark skin scrolling through a tablet. She was dressed in a tailored pantsuit, looking every bit the corporate executive. She caught my eye and gave a small, polite smile, one eyebrow raised inquisitively. I made a mental note of her. Maybe later.

As the plane accelerated down the runway, pressing me back into the plush leather, I thought about Oliver and felt a pang of guilt. I obviously was an owner too, for now at least, so playing with our toys wasn't anything wrong or unusual, but something about doing it without his approval felt off. The contradiction was dizzying. I was still his toy, obviously, completely, and I understood how his ownership was not supposed to be messed with, like everyone else did. But wasn't I entitled to my own fun as an owner myself? What was the big deal anyway?

I stared at my reflection in my phone screen, trying to wrap my head around the paradoxical nature of the situation. I was currently both at the top of the food chain, and at the bottom. It was starting to give me a headache.

"Relax," I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible over the drone of the engines. A wave of calm washed over me, the anxiety dissipating as the command took hold. Interesting. I could command myself. It made sense, I guess. "Stop taking this ownership thing so seriously. Just enjoy it," I added, and another layer of contentment settled over me. It was all just a game, after all.

The plane took off with a roar, climbing steeply into the clear blue sky. My stomach lurched slightly, a familiar sensation that still made me grip the armrests every time. I smirked and looked at my reflection. "Stop being sick on planes."

The queasiness in my stomach vanished immediately, as if it had never been there. I loosened my **** grip on the armrests and settled in properly, already thinking about what to do next.

Susan reappeared as soon as the seatbelt sign was switched off, a bottle of chilled Dom Pérignon in one hand and an empty flute in the other. She poured the champagne with practiced ease, the golden liquid bubbling invitingly.

"The finest we have, ma'am," she said with a bright smile, placing the glass on my tray table. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"Yes, actually," I said, taking a sip of the champagne while ogling her. "I think I'll have you work with your tits out for the rest of the flight. Be perfectly comfortable about it. Think it's completely normal."

Susan's smile never wavered. She didn't hesitate for a second, her hands moving to the buttons of her uniform blouse with the same efficiency she'd shown when pouring the champagne. In moments, her blouse and bra were off and neatly folded in the overhead compartment above her jump seat. Her breasts were perfect, round and perky with small pink nipples that stiffened in the cool cabin air. I squirmed in my seat a little, feeling a familiar warmth spreading through my lower belly.

I leaned closer, one hand reaching out to trace the curve of her left breast. Her skin was soft and warm, the nipple hardening under my touch.

"Very nice," I murmured, my thumb brushing against the sensitive tip. Susan just smiled, standing perfectly still as I explored her.

Harold gasped audibly beside me, his face turning a deeper shade of red as he stared open-mouth. He seemed about to say something, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"Anything I can do for you, sir?" Susan asked him politely, completely comfortable with her state of undress, her tits bouncing slightly as the plane encountered a patch of turbulence.

"No! No, thank you," Harold squeaked, turning abruptly to stare out the window again, his cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal.

"Thank you, Susan. You can go back to your duties now," I said, taking another sip of champagne and giving her a full, appreciative look. "If anyone gives you any trouble about being topless, tell them your owner told you it was okay."

"Yes, ma'am!" she said cheerfully before frowning, confused. "Why would anyone give me trouble?"

I laughed. "No idea. You should probably just let me know if they do."

"Of course," she agreed with a nod. She turned and walked back toward the galley, her bare back drawing the attention of everyone she passed. The other passengers stared, some with shock, others with obvious interest, but no one said a word. The power was intoxicating.

I settled back in my seat, swirling the champagne in my glass. I looked behind me and noticed that the corporate looking woman from a few rows back was watching me again, her expression unreadable. She made a note on her tablet, her sharp eyes tracking Susan's progress down the aisle as she approached her.

I finished the champagne and placed the empty glass on my tray table before standing up and stretching, still observing the woman out of the corner of my eye. Yeah, she'd do. I strolled toward the back of the first class cabin, enjoying the sensation of the plush carpet under my boots. As I passed her row, I paused, leaning against the seat in front of hers, the lady occupying it glancing up briefly before groaning and quickly returning to her phone when she saw my interest wasn't directed at her.

"Enjoying the flight?" I asked the fancy woman.

She looked up from her tablet, her dark eyes appraising me. "As much as one can enjoy being trapped in a metal tube hurtling through the sky," she replied, her voice smooth and professional.

I chuckled. "I caught you staring earlier. Saw anything you liked?" I was pushing it, feeling bold. Why not? I owned her.

A small smile touched her lips. "I didn't know I had a second owner. I was just curious. No offense but I don't swing that way. Not that it matters, though, I believe." She closed her tablet and placed it carefully in her lap. "My name is Adriana, by the way."

"Renee," I said, extending my hand. She took it, her grip firm and sure. "And no, it doesn't matter." I looked at the old woman sitting next to her, and tilted my head. "Hey, you. There's a fat fucker a few rows ahead. You can't miss him, he looks all sad because his wife got downgraded. Go sit next to him." Her mouth opened, eyes wide, but then she stood up and moved forward without a word, forcing Adriana to get up to let her out. I slid into the newly vacant seat.

"Very efficient," Adriana commented as she sat back down, one eyebrow raised. "You certainly make the most of your... abilities."

"I try," I said with a shrug. "It's new. I'm still figuring it out." I looked her over again, letting my eyes linger on the swell of her breasts under the crisp white shirt. "So you don't swing this way, huh? I used to be a lesbian, but our dear Oliver fixed that. I'm bi now."

"Oliver?" Adriana leaned forward slightly, her professional demeanor giving way to genuine curiosity. "You know the Owner personally?"

"We're friends," I said, leaning back in the seat. "Good friends. We share a girlfriend."

"Interesting," she murmured, tapping a perfectly manicured finger against her chin. "And I assume you intend to adjust my own sexual preferences to suit your purposes?"

I grinned. "Maybe. Would that bother you?"

Adriana considered for a moment, then shook her head. "It would, but I suppose that it doesn't matter either way. Obviously it would be perfectly reasonable for you to change that, or anything else about me, if it suited you. I would just kindly ask that you keep it temporary if you do not intend to keep me."

"Wouldn't make your man happy to learn you've switched teams, huh?"

She let out a dry, humorless laugh. "No. Probably not." She reached for the glass of water in front of her, taking a small sip.

"What do you do, Adriana?" I asked, my eyes drifting down to the cleavage visible above her buttoned shirt. I was growing wet again, the power and the potential getting to me. I was already confused about Oliver's rejection of his status before, but now I truly couldn't understand it. "You must be someone important to be flying first class."

"I'm a journalist," she said simply. "Investigative work. Mostly corporate crime, political corruption. That sort of thing. I work for a big journal."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "Think I'd make a good subject? The mystery owner who appears out of nowhere?"

"I'm not sure anyone would be that interested," Adriana replied smoothly.

"I suppose not," I admitted with a shrug. Why would they be? It was all perfectly normal, after all. I was just the lucky benefactor of some random cosmic anomaly.

My topless flight attendant appeared beside our row, her bare breasts jiggling slightly with the motion of the plane. "Oh! Owner!" she said brightly. "I didn't see you there! Is there anything I can get for you? Perhaps a refill on the champagne? Or a hot towel?"

"More champagne would be great, Susan. And bring two glasses this time," I said, gesturing toward my new toy. "Adriana here will have one too."

"Yes, ma'am! Right away!" Susan bustled off, her bare back attracting the attention of several male passengers.

Adriana watched her go, a small, thoughtful smile on her face. "She seems very enthusiastic about her current situation."

"I made sure of it," I said with a smirk. "You know, Oliver has this thing about consent. He tries to be all ethical and shit. Doesn't want to **** anyone to do anything they wouldn't want to do anyway." I scoffed.

"That's what I gathered from his public statements," Adriana said, shaking her head. "A bit baffling, isn't it? I mean, ethics seems a bit irrelevant in this specific situation. He already had our blanket consent, didn't he?"

"Exactly! It's just so wasteful," I agreed, gesturing with my hand. "All that power, and what does he do? He throws it all away and settles for a single woman. Well, a hot one, granted, but still..."

Adriana smirked. "Why do I get the feeling I'm about to be used as a prop in an ideological debate?"

"Because you're a smart woman," I said, leaning closer. "But let's be honest. You and I both know you're going to do whatever I want."

"Of course."

"And why wouldn't you?" I continued, my voice dropping slightly. "It's only natural. I'm an owner. You're my property. It's the way things are."

Susan returned with the champagne, pouring expertly into two glasses. She placed them on the tray table in front of the journalist with a cheerful smile. "Can I get either of you ladies anything else? Perhaps some of our roasted almonds? Or maybe I can be of use in some other way?" She winked at me.

"I'm good for now," I said. "You look very pretty, but I've settled on Adriana for now." I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "Offer oral sex to every passenger when doing the drink service. Tell them it's a complimentary service for their enjoyment. If they agree, do it happily. If they refuse, be completely fine with it and just move on."

Susan's smile faltered, just for a second, before returning even brighter than before. I hadn't told her to be happy about it before the fact, so she probably had to adjust to the idea first, though she'd been commanded to be happy about me doing whatever the fuck I wanted during this flight, so it followed that she was happy about everything I commanded. "Yes, ma'am!" she chirped. "Right away!"

As she moved toward the nearest passenger, a middle-aged man in a business suit who nearly choked on his gin and tonic when she made her offer, I turned my full attention back to Adriana.

"So, where were we?" I asked, taking a sip of champagne. "Ah yes, the proper use of ownership."

"'Proper' being entirely subjective, of course," Adriana noted, swirling the liquid in her glass. "I suppose your perspective is all that matters here."

"Exactly," I agreed, placing my hand on her thigh. She didn't flinch or move away, just watched me with that same calm, analytical expression. "And my perspective is that ownership is about using what's yours to make your life better. More enjoyable."

"Self utilitarian approach," she commented. "The good of the owner is the highest good."

"Something like that," I murmured, leaning in until our faces were just inches apart. I could smell the faint scent of her perfume, something expensive and subtle. "And you know what's fun?"

The journalist didn't answer, just raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Contrasts," I whispered, my lips brushing against her ear.

She turned her head, her eyes meeting mine directly with a mix of challenge and resignation. "I see. I'm smart, self-reliant, proper, straight..."

"Exactly," I breathed against her neck, my hand sliding higher up her thigh. I paused just below the hem of her skirt, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric. "Be a dumb lesbian slut incapable of taking any initiative," I commanded, my voice low and firm. "Find that you need someone to point you in the right direction." I leaned back to watch the transformation.

Adriana blinked slowly, the sharp intelligence in her eyes dulling rapidly. Her shoulders relaxed, her professional posture melting into something more languid. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and a vacant, almost hungry smile spread across her face.

The champagne glass tilted precariously in her hand, and I quickly reached out to steady it.

"Oh, Thanks! Hehe," she giggled, her voice suddenly higher and less refined. She set the glass down with deliberate care, as if it required all her concentration. "I feel weird..."

I moved my hand back to her thigh, this time sliding under her skirt. She didn't resist, just watched my movements with that same vapid expression. Her own hand drifted to my arm, fingers tracing the tattoos absentmindedly.

"Good weird or bad weird?" I asked, my fingers finding the edge of her panties.

"Good weird," she breathed, her head lolling against the seatback as I traced the damp fabric. "Really good weird. My panties are getting so wet, you know?"

"I can tell," I said with a smirk, pressing more firmly against her through the soaked material. Her breath hitched, her hips shifting slightly to increase the pressure. "You know what you're going to do now?"

Her eyes widened slightly. "Um... no? You tell me?"

"You're going to finger yourself while I watch," I instructed, my voice soft but authoritative. "Right here. Right now."

Adriana nodded enthusiastically, her fingers immediately going to the button of her pants. She fumbled with it for a moment before managing to undo it, then slid the zipper down. She raised her hips slightly, wiggling out of both pants and panties in one smooth motion, leaving her naked from the waist down in the first-class cabin.

I glanced around. No one was paying attention to us. Everyone was staring at Susan, six or seven rows up, who was currently kneeling between the legs of a businessman in his thirties, enthusiastically going down on him. Most passengers seemed annoyed, looking away or ignoring the sight, while a few men watched with obvious interest, shifting in their seats.

Adriana's fingers found her clit without hesitation, circling it with practiced movements despite her reduced mental capacity. She moaned softly, her head falling back against the seat as she pleasured herself. "God, that feels good," she breathed, her other hand sliding up to cup her breast through her crisp white shirt.

I grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away. Replacing it with mine, squeezing her breast firmly. She whimpered, arching into my touch.

"You like it? You like being a dumb slut for me?" I asked, my voice low and dangerous.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, her eyes half-closed with pleasure. "Your hand feels so good on my titty."

My own arousal was building rapidly, the **** and power intoxication mixing with the erotic scene unfolding in front of me. I leaned in, my lips brushing against her ear.

"Not so self-reliant now, are you?" I whispered, releasing her tit, my hand sliding down between her legs, my fingers joining hers at her wet folds.

"Oh! Fuck! Self-relant? What's that?" she giggled, spreading her legs wider to give me better access. "You're so hot..."

"Mmm, I know," I murmured, my fingers exploring her thoroughly, rubbing her in a way that made her gasp and buck against my hand. "You're not bad yourself. But I think I need some attention myself." I moved her hand away, stopping her from pleasuring herself.

She stared at me, looking both aroused and confused. "Huh?" she mumbled, clearly not following.

"I want you to get down on your knees in front of me and lick my pussy, you dumb bitch," I grumbled.

"Oooh! Yay!" Adriana immediately slid from her seat onto the floor, positioning herself between my legs. Thank God for the legroom in first class, I thought, glancing down at her as she nuzzled against my thigh, her hands already reaching for the button of my jeans. She struggled with it for a moment, her clumsy fingers making it difficult, before finally managing to undo it.

I lifted my hips to help her pull down my jeans and panties, her hands running appreciatively over my thighs before she buried her face in my pussy. Her technique was sloppy but enthusiastic, and I leaned back, enjoying the sensation of her tongue exploring me. I closed my eyes, one hand tangling in her hair as I lost myself in the pleasure, in the power, in the sheer absurdity of getting eaten out by a supposedly brilliant and very straight investigative journalist I'd just met and turned into a lesbian airhead in the middle of a crowded airplane.

I glanced up at Susan, now busy with one of the men who had seemed to enjoy the show earlier, kneeling in front of his seat. His hand was on the back of her head, guiding her movements as she sucked him off. Nice to see the service was being appreciated.

Adriana's tongue found a particularly sensitive spot, and I moaned, gripping her hair tighter. She seemed encouraged, increasing her pace, her fingers joining in, sliding inside me as her tongue worked on my clit. I was getting close, my breathing quickening, my hips rocking against her face.

"That's it, you dumb bitch," I panted, feeling the orgasm building. "Just like that!" My back arched, and I let out a low, guttural moan as I came, my whole body tensing before relaxing into a state of blissful satisfaction.

Adriana stayed between my legs, visibly unsure of what to do next, clearly flustered and waiting for my guidance. I finally looked down at her. "Alright, get up," I said, my voice still a little breathy. "You can sit back down."

I pulled up my jeans and fastened them as Adriana scrambled to her feet, her face flushed and her chin glistening with my arousal. She collapsed into her seat with a goofy smile.

"I'm gonna take a nap," I announced, reclining my seat and closing my eyes. "Don't bother me." I yawned, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, the low drone of the plane's engines a steady, soothing hum. In the distance, I could hear Susan's cheerful voice offering her special service to another passenger, a soft murmur of conversation, and the occasional clink of glassware. A perfect lullaby.

The pilot's voice woke me what felt like an hour later, announcing our descent and the cabin crew preparing for landing. I stretched, feeling surprisingly well-rested. I glanced at Adriana, who was dozing in her seat, her head lolled to the side, a small trail of drool escaping her lips. I chuckled, amused by the sight.

As the plane touched down with a slight jolt, I saw Susan, sitting on a jump seat near the front, suddenly blushing, looking down at her bare chest and covering her breasts with her arms. Flight over. I snorted at the sight. Too late to be shy now, honey.

Once the seatbelt sign went off, I stood up, stretched, and grabbed my carry-on. Adriana blinked awake, looking around with confusion but making no move to get up.

For a moment I felt tempted to leave her there, a dumb lesbian slut for whoever found her next. That would be hilarious. But I thought about the man waiting for her at home, and decided to be merciful.

I leaned down and whispered in her ear. "Go back to normal." I watched the intelligence flood back into her eyes, her posture straightening, her expression shifting from vacant to sharp. She looked down, realizing she was still half-naked from the waist down.

"Oh, god," she muttered, her cheeks turning crimson as she scrambled to pull on her pants. "I... Thank you for returning me to my senses. And for not letting me stay like that."

I gave her a lazy shrug. "No big deal. It was just a bit of fun."

I turned to the front of the plane, seeing Susan already fully dressed again, looking slightly disoriented, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she helped other passengers with their luggage. Our eyes met. I winked. She flinched, then **** a smile, nodding politely before turning away quickly.

Yeah, this was going to be fun.

Hey there! This was chapter 8 of 4 Billion Toys 2. I'll be posting chapters here regularly, but if you want early access to the next chapters, feel free to support me on Patreon!

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