[Runesmith]

She awoke to someone shaking her by the shoulder. "Ma'am! Are you alright, Ma'am?"

She opened her eyes. It was the stewardess, with a look of horrified concern on her face. The mood lighting in the cabin was the bright yellow and pink of a fake dawn, and light string music was playing. She realized that she was still lying on the floor at the foot of the bed. The room door was open and a trolley with breakfast on it was parked nearby, unserved, with the smell of freshly baked bread and coffee wafting from it. The stewardess was squatting beside the slave, unintentionally opening up a view of her shapely thighs covered in sheer tights converging towards the neon green patch of flimsy lace covering her intimate areas.

"I.. I am fine," croaked the slave, struggling to get up, as the stewardess held her elbow. Every joint in her body hurt as she raised herself up, and as she did so, she saw the reason for the horrified look on the stewardess' face. Her dress was torn, with the hem of the dress still bunched up around the waist. The tatters of the torn panties still hung from her right thigh, and the bruises from the riding crop were turning purple on her inner thighs. Leaning on to the stewardess, she managed to stand up on shaky legs, her knees screaming in protest.

The man was sitting up on the bed, propped up by pillows and casting an impatient glance at the stewardess. "I...am okay. Serve breakfast," whispered the slave anxiously, fearful of what would happen to them both if the man got angry. The fear seemed contagious, and the stewardess nervously set about serving breakfast.

She took out a tablet, folded out a pair of leg frames and set it up over the man's lap, spread a white table cloth over it, and proceeded to serve breakfast. The slave held on to the overhead bin to keep her balance on her trembling legs. After the man's breakfast was served, the stewardess came over, took her by the elbow and led her to the door beyond the head side of the bed. Behind the door was a large bathroom, bigger than the one she had seen in front of the plane, which seemed to extend all the way to the tail of the plane. The slave staggered towards the toilet seat, which opened and glowed blue as she approached, and sat down heavily on it. The stewardess took a quick look in to the room, stepped in to the toilet and closed the door behind her.

"Hey, are you okay? If there's something wrong, you can tell me. I can contact the authorities when we get back to Europe," the stewardess spoke in a low voice as she leaned forward. "No... please. I am fine," murmured the slave, closing her eyes and letting loose a stream of hot piss, and wincing as it touched her bruised cunt lips. "Look, I do this for a living ok? I'm a fetish escort," she lied, hoping that this do-gooder idiot would let go and not get them both in trouble.

A look of distaste crossed the stewardess' face for an instant, before the plastic, professional look returned. She waited until the slave cleaned up, washed her face, and tried to make herself as presentable as possible, and then followed her back in to the bedroom. Taking out a second tablet from the cart and gesturing to the bed, she asked, "Shall I serve you your breakfast, Ma'am?"

Getting on to the bed with her owner, who was royalty to boot, didn't sound like something a slave would be expected to do. The slave simply sat down on the floor near the entry door to the room, facing the foot of the bed. The man smiled and nodded approvingly. The stewardess hesitated, set the tablet down next to the slave and served a croissant, butter, fruit, yogurt and a steaming mug of coffee on it. As the stewardess bent over, the slave could see the man looking at the girl's exposed rear end appreciatively. The slave wondered whether the goody-two-shoes girl even knew why she had got this job.

Half an hour later, the stewardess returned and cleared the dishes and tablets, placing them neatly on the trolley. As she was about to leave, the man spoke up, "You! There are some crumbs here. Clean up," pointing to his lap.

"Yes, your highness, I am sorry your highness," apologized the stewardess, grabbing a napkin from the trolley. She hurried over to the bed, and bent over the side of the bed, looking for the crumbs. The man's right hand immediately dived under the raised hem of her uniform skirt, and grabbed her nylon covered buttock. The stewardess gave a surprised shriek and started to straighten up, but at that moment, with practiced precision, the man's left hand grabbed the front of her dress, and with a pull from the his left hand and with a push on the buttocks with the right, the stewardess was tossed over on to the bed, landing face down, with her buttocks raised up right on the man's lap.