Reporting to her superior in Septagon necessitated her passage through a security checkpoint. Fortunately for Major Elaine Garcia, her rank bestowed upon her the rare privilege of completing the mandatory pat-down procedures in a private examination room, away from the prying eyes of male security personnels. A career servicewoman that she was, having navigated this mandatory security ritual countless times, she had become intimately familiar with virtually every female security officer assigned to conduct these inspections.

With the ethereal grace of a runway model, Major Elaine Garcia glided toward the security checkpoint, fully aware of how the screening procedure would unfold. In a high-testosterone industry brimming with masculine energy, her youthful and feminine allure stood out as an anomaly, a beacon that drew attention like a flame to moths.

Like natural predators, the sexually frustrated male security guards stalked and devoured her with their eyes, their hungry stares peeling away the layers of her tight-fitting Class A uniform to reveal the prized treasure beneath. Their imaginations ignited, each mind raced with unspoken desires, painting vivid fantasies of how they would devour her should the opportunity present itself.

Her dark blue Class A uniform, a masterpiece of precise tailoring, clung to her form like a second skin crafted exclusively for her. The fabric’s rich, deep hue absorbed the ambient light, casting an aura of authority and refined elegance. The expertly tailored cut of her jacket not only offered a subtle yet undeniable lift for her breasts, enhancing their prominence, but also accentuated their perfectly round contours with tasteful precision. Adorned with gleaming award ribbons and a name tag, her breasts seemed to swell beneath the crisp fabric, as if silently screaming for admiration and lustful caresses.

The jacket's tightly cinched waistline below her bust created a breathtakingly dramatic and mesmerizing contrast of curves. This intentional constriction at the waist sculpted her figure with such intensity that it demanded attention, drawing observers' eyes inward, and compelling them to linger on the narrowest part of her silhouette. The four golden buttons, the shimmering gold bullions on her shoulder epaulets, and the rich gold-and-blue sleeve braid intensified the intoxicating allure of femininity emanating from a woman in command.

In a symphony of contrasts, the coat's hem flared out in a sweeping display, boldly accentuating the lush expanse of her hips. This precise tailoring forged an hourglass silhouette, paradoxically creating an irresistible femininity that defied the inherent rigidity of conventional military uniforms, leaving behind an allure that was impossible to resist.

Each piercing click of her six-inch, meticulously polished, pitch-black polyurethane stilettos against the marble floor thundered through the bustling marble hall. The curve of her Achilles tendon and the delicate arch of her foot were exquisitely accentuated by the towering heels. Her regulation skirt, audaciously hemmed thirty centimeters above her knees, flaunted a privilege reserved for only the elite few servicewomen.

With each deliberate stride, the skirt provocatively crept higher, unveiling more of the stocking welts and the occasional glint of metal garter clips securing the non-elastic stockings in place. Enveloped in a pair of ultra-sheer 10-denier silk stockings, her sculpted calves shimmered under the bright morning lights, casting a seductive sheen that demanded attention with every step she took. The nearly-invisible material served only to intensify the sultry glimpses of smooth skin beneath. From the vibrant red of her soles, the perfectly aligned backseam of her fully-fashioned stockings traced a provocative line up her toned calves and lower thighs, before enticingly vanishing beneath the hem of her shortened skirt.

Conversations dwindled to a hush as she approached the security checkpoint. Every head in the vicinity snapped around in unison, drawn toward her, unable to deny her commanding presence and electrifying sensuality. The illicit thrill of being so exposed while wielding absolute control fueled Major Garcia’s exhibitionist nature. Commanding their attention, she purposefully swayed her hips like a mistress preying on her target, effortlessly manipulating the sexually fragile men around her.

The metal detector’s alarm pierced the air as Major Elaine Garcia triggered its sensors. The male security guards, jolted from their intense fantasies involving Elaine and her alluring figure, scrambled awkwardly in a feeble attempt to conceal their inappropriate reactions. A young female guard, her crimson lips twisted with scorn for her male colleagues’ blatant lust and disregard for dignity, stepped forward with her portable metal detector in hand.

“Let’s do this in private!” a commanding feminine voice thundered from behind the supervisor’s desk, freezing the young female guard in her tracks.

“Come with us, Major!” Senior Security Officer Shaw motioned for both the female guard and Major Garcia to follow her to a more secluded space.

On-duty Officer Shaw, her familiar smile morphing into a teasing grin, guided Elaine into a secluded pat-down room. She always found an intriguing thrill in uncovering the hidden mysteries beneath Elaine’s uniform. She gestured for Junior Officer Beckett, the fresh-faced trainee shadowing her, to join them. The two female officers maintained their authoritative composure under the watchful eyes of their male colleagues. Major Garcia’s stilettos continued to hammer out their hypnotic rhythm. Each sharp click amplified the tension in the air as she followed Officer Shaw.

The three women entered a small, brightly lit room, featuring a circular pedestal in its center that resembles a sacrificial altar. Senior Officer Shaw closed the door behind her. She pressed her thumb against the door’s biometric input panel to engage its locking mechanism. The electronic tumbler emitted a drawn-out pneumatic hiss, before a definitive click echoed, sealing them inside.

Elaine mounted the circular pedestal without waiting for commands. Her stilettos struck the mirror-like surface with sharp clicks that echoed through the small room. Standing above the reflective platform, she glimpsed herself from below—a perfect upskirt view with bare thighs and the metallic glint of her chastity belt fully visible. She caught her breath at the sight of her image trapped in an infinite corridor—the parallel mirrors creating an endless army of Elaines, each one observed by countless unseen eyes.

The two security guards positioned themselves in front of Elaine. Officer Shaw's presence eclipsed her junior colleague, whose lean and athletic frame seemed almost childlike by comparison. Shaw's uniform—designed to weaponize her femininity—surrendered completely to her curves. Its pressed and pristine white fabric, devoid of a single crease, showcased breasts so full they threatened to burst open with each breath. The twin metal barbells pierced through Shaw's nipples pressed against the breast pockets like bullets ready to fire. Their outlines were so distinct Elaine could trace their exact dimensions with her eyes alone. The razor-sharp collar points framed a black necktie that sliced downward from her neck, between those magnificent breasts, and stopped just above her black trousers.

Enhancing this flagrant display of sensuality was her 8-centimeter-wide utility belt. Far from being a mere functional accessory, it cinched her waist like a corset, emphasizing the stark contrast between her impossibly narrow waist and the opulent curves cascading both above and below. This exaggerated hourglass silhouette amplified the femininity of her figure within the confines of a traditionally masculine uniform. The mirror behind her captured the full expanse of Shaw's derriere, their full round shape encased in her black pants, further intensifying the provocative allure emanating from her.

Standing on the circular pedestal, Elaine could feel the lack of heating in the inspection room, grateful for the additional layers of insulation her uniform provided. The familiar stench of clinical-grade alcohol—used for cavity searches—filled her nostrils. She spread out her arms and legs wide, a posture she had perfected through countless security screenings. Senior Security Officer Shaw unlatched the probing wand from her shoulder as Elaine settled into position. The sleek, metallic device hummed to life. Shaw performed a perfunctory scan while reciting the standard protocols she had long since memorized. The wand emitted steady beeps as it glided across the pronounced contours of Elaine's chest.

Shaw's eyes locked with Elaine's as she dragged the wand's electrified tip across the underside of her breast. Elaine's sharp intake of breath cut through the room's silence. A violent crimson flooded her cheeks and throat as her chest heaved against the confines of her uniform. Knowing all too well the secret treasures hidden within Elaine's uniform, Shaw pressed the cold metal harder against the curve, dragging it upward until Elaine's knees nearly buckled. The heavy concentration of metallic jewelry around her nipples triggered a frenzy of electronic wailing.

Shaw traced a deliberate, circular motion around Elaine's waist, fully aware of what lay hidden beneath her tight uniform. The piercing beeping sound that followed was anything but accidental. As Shaw methodically guided the wand down towards Elaine's crotch, an exaggerated expression of open-mouthed shock contorted Shaw's face at the ear-piercing alarm, prompting a knowing chuckle from Elaine in response.

"I'm sorry, Major Garcia, I would have to politely ask you to stand with your feet wider apart," Shaw said in a routine theatrical manner, her voice suspiciously loud and clear.

Both women knew where this theatricality was going. Officer Shaw positioned her wand between Elaine's thighs, just below the hem of her shortened skirt, nudging her legs wider apart. The wand crept upward, together with the skirt, unveiling the welt of Elaine's fully fashioned stockings. The stockings ended and gave way to the smooth expanse of her bare upper thighs. Finally, the wand's journey reached its climax, exposing the gleaming metal of the chastity belt's crotch shield.

Meanwhile, the trainee officer stood frozen, bewilderment etched into every feature of her face. Her eyes, wide with a potent mix of professional duty and intense curiosity, struggled to align the rigid textbook rules of engagement with the unexpected intimacy playing out before her. She shifted her weight awkwardly as a fierce blush surged up her neck. Her own breathing quickened. Though she could have looked away or interrupted, she found herself unable and unwilling to do either, secretly thrilled at becoming an invisible witness to their private ritual. Officer Beckett, new in her line of work, gasped at the sight of the gleaming mound of stainless steel that sealed the treasure between Elaine’s thighs.

“Officer Beckett, let me show you how to do a cavity search on personnel with TC-7 privilege,” her senior gave the order loudly and clearly.

“Hands up, Major, and hold the grips above you. No sudden movements!”

With a wide smile, Elaine obediently followed the senior security officer's order, eagerly anticipating the ensuing cavity search. Officer Shaw circled behind Elaine, moving the probing wand along her hips, intentionally keeping her skirt lifted high. To aid with the cavity search, Officer Shaw skillfully folded her inspectee's skirt upward until it appeared as though Elaine wore no skirt at all. The two parallel standing mirrors and the one she was standing on multiplied her exposure infinitely—hundreds of Elaines with parted thighs and gleaming metal between them, a willing surrender to the humiliation that she secretly craved.

Officer Shaw shoved her legs between Elaine's to force her stance wider.

"Spread your legs further," she ordered Elaine.

The two women's bodies crushed together. Shaw's legs clamped like a steel vise between Elaine's thighs, prying them apart even wider, leaving her crotch bare and vulnerable to Beckett's gaze. Their bodies melded into one, Shaw's voluptuous curves pressing so tightly against Elaine's back that each breath made their starched uniforms scrape against each other, sparking an inferno of lust between them. Shaw's voluminous breasts pressed like searing brands against Elaine's back, their warmth and softness impossible to ignore. Elaine's heartbeat thundered as Shaw's hips ground relentlessly against her. Her exposed skin rubbed against the coarse fabric of Shaw's law enforcement uniform trousers, stirring something raw and primal deep within her.

Shaw's hands moved slowly upward. Under the guise of posture adjustment, her fingertips dug into Elaine's ribcage, deliberately tracing the metal rim of the chastity belt encircling her waist. When her palms finally claimed Elaine's breasts, the senior officer's grip tightened possessively, kneading the flesh until Elaine's breath caught audibly in her throat. Shaw's thumbs circled relentlessly, tracing the contours of Elaine's mounds, mercilessly hunting for the pierced nipples that were unfairly constrained within a regulation blouse and a Class A uniform jacket.

In the parallel mirrors, the two women clad in occupational uniforms locked their gaze into each other’s eyes through the reflection, like a pair of lesbian performers about to kick their lovemaking act into high gears. Shaw’s thumb and index finger hooked the second button of Elaine’s blouse. She needed only a simple twist to cause the starched cotton fabric to part with a whispered surrender, leaving a gap large enough for the security officer’s left hand to slide in, causing a rush of cool air to hit her flushed skin.

Her right hand returned to fondling Elaine’s breasts from outside the uniform, thumb circling around her areola, feeling the bumps of the nipple piercing through the dark blue jacket. Elaine’s pierced nipples hardened against the metal barbell embedded within them and against the lace fabric. The presence of Shaw’s calloused fingers caused Elaine’s body spine to betray her, arching forward involuntarily, offering her treasure chests deeper into those merciless fingers hunting for metal-pierced flesh.

Elaine’s body convulsed as Shaw’s fingers traced the metal rim encircling her nipple. The uniform strained as Shaw thrusted her hand deeper, capturing the pierced nipple between her index and middle fingers, twisting it until Elaine’s desperate moan echoed off the inspection room’s cold walls. The intricacies of the metal piercing threading through the nipple only made it easier for Shaw to maneuver its positioning inside Elaine’s uniform. With her nimble fingers, Shaw yanked the nipple free from its modesty prison, causing it to obscenely jut beyond the lace that had failed to contain it. Shaw marveled at her masterpiece; even with the distance between them and their own reflections, the right nipple and its piercings were more visibly pronounced than was her left breast.

Shaw repositioned herself in front of Elaine, ravenously seizing her right breast, meticulously repeating the procedure she had just carried out on Elaine’s left breast. Her touch was methodical and precise as if she were following a well-rehearsed script. Seemingly satisfied with the way Elaine's nipples protruded obscenely through her thick uniform, Shaw buttoned Elaine’s shirt back up, her lips curling into a perverse smile. She then swept the metal detector over her chest once more, gliding it across her uniform, leaving a trail of piercing wails as it came into proximity with the metal implements that kept Elaine's nipples erect. It was a theatrical procedure for anyone eavesdropping outside the private examination room.

"Stand still and keep your hands straight up," Shaw commanded.

Shaw's fingers dipped into her trousers, retrieving a sleek rectangle no larger than a cigarette lighter, its gleaming metal surface interrupted only by a single crimson button. She positioned the device against the steel aperture at the rear of Elaine’s chastity belt, hovering mere millimeters away from the head of her golden butt plug that had been stretching her orifice, causing Elaine’s anal muscles to clench involuntarily in anticipation.

The device responded with three sharp chirps as Shaw pressed the crimson button down. Deep within Elaine's most intimate recess, the pear-shaped plug emitted a mechanical whir that vibrated against her sensitive inner walls. The aperture first contracted, its polished metal petals folding inward like a closing flower, creating a fleeting emptiness that made her inner muscles clench desperately around for something to grasp.

After three agonizing seconds of suspension, the aperture rotated clockwise, the polished steel edges gliding against her hypersensitive nerve endings. A throaty moan escaped Elaine's parted lips. Her eyelids fluttering as the dilation began, stretching her orifice millimeter by excruciating millimeter, until the aperture returned to its maximum diameter. The process filled her with a sensation that teetered between pleasure and beautiful agony. The first phase of the handshake was complete. It was a test that confirmed the butt plug's aperture mechanism was fully functional.

The second phase of the handshake sequence commenced as Elaine experienced synchronized jolts of electricity inside her orifice. This phase ensured that the metal aperture blades maintained optimal contact with her flesh. The electric field generated by these synchronized electric pulses created a unique transfer function that served as a handshake signature mapped to the contours of her anal channel anatomy. This signature was impossible to replicate without having the butt plug being securely fitted inside an anal opening.

The third and final phase lasted mere seconds—a faint green light pulsed from the base of the butt plug, its glints dancing across the mirror-polished floor beneath Elaine's skirtless lower body. This seemingly innocuous light signaled the most invasive violation of privacy. The miniature computer inside the plug had established a secure connection to the facility's mainframe. Hidden in a location that eluded even the highest-ranking security officers, this central system now received streams of data tracking not only her whereabouts, but also her vital signs.

With the connection activated, the device became a conduit for remote commands, able to flood her with pleasure so intense it bordered on agony or deliver punishment that would bring her to her knees in seconds. Elaine had surrendered her body to the mercy of faceless masters, effectively becoming wetware bound within invisible electromagnetic fences she dared not cross—a sophisticated leash keeping the Major firmly under control within the military facility.

"We're not done yet. Keep still," Officer Shaw commanded as she put the gadget back in her side pocket.

"You have another cavity to search. I'm not leaving anything to chance."

The senior security officer slipped her gloved index and middle fingers behind the steel wire that connected Elaine's crotch piece to the waistband. Elaine's breath quickened, her pupils dilating as Shaw traced downward, following the wire's path with deliberate slowness. When her fingertips finally reached the clitoral hood, Elaine's hips betrayed her with an involuntary forward tilt. Shaw's professional mask slipped—she bit her lip as she applied pressure in small, deliberate circles that had nothing to do with security protocols.

Shaw's lips curled into a half-smile as Elaine's breath quickened to shallow gasps. Obstructed by the metal shield guarding the labia majora, Shaw's gloved fingers expertly maneuvered around, parting the damp flesh. When her middle finger dipped inside the welcoming lips, it froze mid-stroke as it met unexpected resistance—a hard cylindrical object where there had only been warmth and wetness before.

"Ooooh, upgrades? Fancy," she said, her eyebrow arching as she traced the unfamiliar object.

Shaw's fingers scissored around the neck of the vaginal plug. The plug shifted with a mechanical click along the track embedded in the chastity belt’s crotch shield. She discovered that she could pull the plug upwards until Elaine’s sharp intake of breath signaled its limit. Shaw then dragged the base of the plug back to the opposite extreme until Elaine’s hips jerked involuntarily away.

At a certain angle, the tip of the vaginal plug massaged Elaine’s rectovaginal septum, indirectly pressing against the metal plates that secured her butt plug from unauthorized removal. Her short breaths and moans betrayed her excitement despite the apparent pain. The freezing ambient of the examination room, from the lack of heating in the inspection room, failed to stop sweat from forming inside Elaine’s Class A Uniform. A smile played at the corner of Shaw’s mouth as she felt a small amount of bodily fluid leaked onto her latex gloves.

"Beckett! Come over and do her cavity search," the senior officer commanded her junior shadow with a stern voice.

Seemingly snapped out of her fantasy, the junior officer nervously approached the two women locked in bodily entanglement, unsure of what to do.

"Put on your latex gloves and start patting her down."

Shaw returned to her position behind Major Garcia, subtly grinding her ample breasts against Elaine’s back, her arms wrapped possessively around her subject. Immobilized in a stranglehold, the sturdy fabric of their military uniforms created an erotic symphony, heightening Elaine’s intoxicating thrill of submission to a uniformed woman. She swallowed hard, the collar of her uniform suddenly too tight, as Shaw’s breath tickled the fine hairs at the nape of her neck.

“Come closer. This is your job. Don’t be shy. Pat her breasts where her nipple piercings are.”

Shaw’s instruction was precise. With visible reluctance and a lack of experience, Beckett slowly raised her hands, fumbling at an otherwise simple task she was trained to do. She used the back of her hands—a conscious decision to maintain a professional distance—to gently pat Elaine’s breasts.

Growing impatient, Shaw grabbed Beckett’s hands forcefully and flipped them around. “Why are you using the back of your hands? Use your palms, goddamnit!”

A laughter erupted as Beckett nervously grabbed a handful of Elaine’s mounds with her palm. Beckett’s curiosity, a playful spark moments before, ignited into genuine fascination. Her thumbs began to trace the delicate contours of Elaine’s nipple piercings. Her subtle rubs caused Elaine to instinctively bite down her bottom lip—a desperate, yet futile attempt to stifle the moans threatening to erupt from her throat. The sensation of intimate physical contact with two women, one on either side, was proving to be a potent catalyst for Elaine.

“Next, move your hands around her waist. Feel the metal waistband all around”.

Beckett’s hesitant hands slipped under Elaine’s jacket flap. Her trembling fingertips caressed Elaine’s warm, smooth skin before finally finding the rim of the chastity belt’s waistband. Beckett began tracing the metal waistband along its circumference, from the back to the front, leaving none uninspected as her training dictated. The junior officer, unable to hide her demureness, made an unconscious effort to avoid her breasts from coming into contact with Elaine’s in the process. Shaw and Elaine, who had an established intimate relationship, were amused at Beckett’s attempt at prudence.

“Next, slip your fingers under the front-side cable and trace it down until you approach her genitalia. Make sure to go gently as you enter.”

Following instructions to the letter, Beckett’s jaw fell open as her fingers slipped into Elaine’s pleasure canal, discovering the vaginal plug lodged deep inside. Elaine’s knees buckled as Beckett’s index and middle fingers explored her depths. Moisture trickled down from around the chastity belt’s crotch shield, tracing the supple skin of her inner thighs, and ultimately leaving wet marks on her stockings’ welt. Being immobilized by a domineering woman in a vulnerable position was already more than she could ask for. Having another woman providing attention to her intimate organ, guarded by a steel prison, proved to be overwhelming for her.

Under any other circumstances, such intimate indulgence would constitute a serious breach of protocol—the kind of authority abuse that typically resulted in immediate termination. However, her TC-7 privilege came with a price tag that required her to consent to frequent intrusive searches—one that she actually took pleasure in.