Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
You've let the 'pussy out of the bag' now, I fear BarbOnly the tabloids and the paparazzi know for certain!
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Sexpionage IV
- Thread starter Fossy
- Start date
...
fake News if she’s swallowing!!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
THE GIRLS OF SEXPIONAGE - THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF GOD
ISSY UNDERWOOD
Issy Underwood is a young actress in her first major series. In the latest Sexpionage story, ‘There But For the Grace of God’, Issy is exposed to her first ever sex scene.
“It was hard to do because the Sexpionage Writers and Producers want realism all the time, and so, well … I guess you will have to draw your own conclusions.” Says young Issy.
Well, I guess it’s hard to simulate a blow job in London’s Victoria Station … but you will have the chance to judge how real Issy’s scene is in the up-coming Sexpionage series which will be with us very soon.
ISSY UNDERWOOD
Issy Underwood is a young actress in her first major series. In the latest Sexpionage story, ‘There But For the Grace of God’, Issy is exposed to her first ever sex scene.
“It was hard to do because the Sexpionage Writers and Producers want realism all the time, and so, well … I guess you will have to draw your own conclusions.” Says young Issy.
Well, I guess it’s hard to simulate a blow job in London’s Victoria Station … but you will have the chance to judge how real Issy’s scene is in the up-coming Sexpionage series which will be with us very soon.
I guess I already have, slut! Victoria station indeed! Right next to Trafalgar Square, what a harlot! Next time why not drape yourself naked over one of the lions while Roger punishes you? Tart…
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
The story line will explain the context to you a little more Loin' ...
Dammit, I was hoping to inspire you, I want my Trafalgar lion whipping, please?The story line will explain the context to you a little more Loin' ...
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
You always inspire me Loin' ...Dammit, I was hoping to inspire you, I want my Trafalgar lion whipping, please?
Awwww… shucks! The Spy Who Loved Me? What a keeper, you can stay!
Searching for cheap flights to London
I wonder how long the chain needs to be to manacle me to a Lion?
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
IT'S BACK - ON SATURDAY 1ST JULY SEXPIONAGE RETURNS WITH A NEW BLOCKBUSTER SERIES -
"THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF GOD"
Starring Grace Miller and featuring Jason Underwood, Barbara Moore and newcomer Issy Underwood, 'There but for the Grace of God' charts the reactions of Grace Miller following her betrayal by Jason, who is currently living in US exile but also in the arms and sweet pussy of CIA Agent Barbara Moore. Meanwhile back at MI6 there is work still to be done in Eastern Europe ...
"THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF GOD"
Starring Grace Miller and featuring Jason Underwood, Barbara Moore and newcomer Issy Underwood, 'There but for the Grace of God' charts the reactions of Grace Miller following her betrayal by Jason, who is currently living in US exile but also in the arms and sweet pussy of CIA Agent Barbara Moore. Meanwhile back at MI6 there is work still to be done in Eastern Europe ...
twonines
LIMERICUS
Bring it on!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
SEXPIONAGE RETURNS ...
Coming Apart (1)
A Disused Market Warehouse, District XIII (Józsefváros), Budapest, Hungary
EIGHT MONTHS after Jase had left Grace, and his family, behind in the UK to be with CIA Agent Barbara Moore in the US … (see Crucifying an Angel).
The room was dark, a dim glow from bare bulbs dotted around the walls provided the only light. The heat was almost overwhelming which made the stink of piss even more disgustingly profound.
Four men, black tee shirts plastered to their bodies, grinned. They seemed unconcerned about either the stench or the heat.
The only sound was a girl choking back a sob. Her breathing was ragged and her naked body glistened in the faint luminosity of the room.
The reason for her torment was clear. She was seated on the cold, dirty, concrete floor. Her thighs were separated by an iron spreader which also manacled her wrists at either side, and with her ankles secured to the floor by eye-bolt fastenings drilled into the concrete, she was completely immobile.
Her naked body was glistening with sweat, and her long dark, matted hair hung lank over her shoulders.
“Okay, one more time.” One of the men broke the silence. The girl recognised the man from her initial ‘interview’, the deep scar set into his left cheek.
“Who sent you?”
Nothing.
The man slapped Grace Miller hard across the face sending her head and hair flying to the side, her neck snapping in a twist.
The captive girl grunted.
“Who do you work for?”
“Fuck you, you fucking moron.”
Not Grace’s wisest choice of words. Another motion of his arm, this time a punch to the temple that rendered Grace momentarily dizzy …
“Fetch the collar and the bag.” Said the man.
With a gleeful grin one of his colleagues did as he was instructed, and in seconds a tight leather collar was being secured around Grace’s neck, under which was the open end of a plastic bag.
The collar ensured that the bag was sealed and underneath the transparent covering, Grace’s pretty features were beginning to show panic as her air supply was cut off and each attempted breath served only to suck the bag into her mouth and nostrils.
As the men stood back to admire their writhing, squirming captive, the hapless girl shook her head violently, in desperation.
The man who had previously given out the instructions nodded to one of his collaborators, who approached Grace, and, much to her relief, tore an open corner into the bag allowing her to gulp in a mouthful or two of much needed oxygen.
But that was all she had the opportunity to take, because, upon receiving another nod, the same man took out his cock and began to piss into the bag.
Grace’s eyes widened and her head shaking began again, but her neck movement was severely restricted by the harsh tightness of the collar, and the bag soon began to fill with stinking, golden urine that inched slowly but very surely upwards, over Grace’s mouth, coating her lips, then over her nose, the piss infiltrating her nostrils …
“Drink bitch, or you will suffocate.” The lead man laughed along with his colleagues.
Then with great reluctance, and through absolute necessity, Grace’s mouth opened …
Vauxhall Park, Fentiman Road, Vauxhall, London
Vauxhall Park was a hidden gem. In the heartland of the City, the green area was a joy to behold. Boasting a complete mini village and a large lavender garden, it offered a mindful respite for the many workers housed nearby. The gardens were hundreds of years old, having first opened in 1661, and said to have been a favourite haunt of Samuel Pepys the renown diarist.
On this particular day one man, middle aged, suited was walking towards a wooden bench by the smaller lake, near to the old stone bridge. On the bench in question sat a second man. Less smartly dressed, unshaven, wearing jeans and sweater.
The suited man sat down next to him, they did not look at each other.
“She’s gone totally dark,” said the scruffier male.
The other man nodded. “Keep me posted,” he replied.
After pausing his walk for only a few seconds Roger Moore stood and continued onwards. His mind was in turmoil. He felt personally responsible for Grace Miller, and now, as if being permanently ‘Off the Grid’ wasn’t dangerous enough, she had gone totally silent. Had she been taken?
There was nothing Moore could do. He needed to have plausible deniability for all Off the Grid ops, this one included. And so it would be left in the hands of the scruffy guy on the bench, her handler.
To Be Continued …
"THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF GOD"
PART I
PART I
Coming Apart (1)
A Disused Market Warehouse, District XIII (Józsefváros), Budapest, Hungary
EIGHT MONTHS after Jase had left Grace, and his family, behind in the UK to be with CIA Agent Barbara Moore in the US … (see Crucifying an Angel).
The room was dark, a dim glow from bare bulbs dotted around the walls provided the only light. The heat was almost overwhelming which made the stink of piss even more disgustingly profound.
Four men, black tee shirts plastered to their bodies, grinned. They seemed unconcerned about either the stench or the heat.
The only sound was a girl choking back a sob. Her breathing was ragged and her naked body glistened in the faint luminosity of the room.
The reason for her torment was clear. She was seated on the cold, dirty, concrete floor. Her thighs were separated by an iron spreader which also manacled her wrists at either side, and with her ankles secured to the floor by eye-bolt fastenings drilled into the concrete, she was completely immobile.
Her naked body was glistening with sweat, and her long dark, matted hair hung lank over her shoulders.
“Okay, one more time.” One of the men broke the silence. The girl recognised the man from her initial ‘interview’, the deep scar set into his left cheek.
“Who sent you?”
Nothing.
The man slapped Grace Miller hard across the face sending her head and hair flying to the side, her neck snapping in a twist.
The captive girl grunted.
“Who do you work for?”
“Fuck you, you fucking moron.”
Not Grace’s wisest choice of words. Another motion of his arm, this time a punch to the temple that rendered Grace momentarily dizzy …
“Fetch the collar and the bag.” Said the man.
With a gleeful grin one of his colleagues did as he was instructed, and in seconds a tight leather collar was being secured around Grace’s neck, under which was the open end of a plastic bag.
The collar ensured that the bag was sealed and underneath the transparent covering, Grace’s pretty features were beginning to show panic as her air supply was cut off and each attempted breath served only to suck the bag into her mouth and nostrils.
As the men stood back to admire their writhing, squirming captive, the hapless girl shook her head violently, in desperation.
The man who had previously given out the instructions nodded to one of his collaborators, who approached Grace, and, much to her relief, tore an open corner into the bag allowing her to gulp in a mouthful or two of much needed oxygen.
But that was all she had the opportunity to take, because, upon receiving another nod, the same man took out his cock and began to piss into the bag.
Grace’s eyes widened and her head shaking began again, but her neck movement was severely restricted by the harsh tightness of the collar, and the bag soon began to fill with stinking, golden urine that inched slowly but very surely upwards, over Grace’s mouth, coating her lips, then over her nose, the piss infiltrating her nostrils …
“Drink bitch, or you will suffocate.” The lead man laughed along with his colleagues.
Then with great reluctance, and through absolute necessity, Grace’s mouth opened …
Vauxhall Park, Fentiman Road, Vauxhall, London
Vauxhall Park was a hidden gem. In the heartland of the City, the green area was a joy to behold. Boasting a complete mini village and a large lavender garden, it offered a mindful respite for the many workers housed nearby. The gardens were hundreds of years old, having first opened in 1661, and said to have been a favourite haunt of Samuel Pepys the renown diarist.
On this particular day one man, middle aged, suited was walking towards a wooden bench by the smaller lake, near to the old stone bridge. On the bench in question sat a second man. Less smartly dressed, unshaven, wearing jeans and sweater.
The suited man sat down next to him, they did not look at each other.
“She’s gone totally dark,” said the scruffier male.
The other man nodded. “Keep me posted,” he replied.
After pausing his walk for only a few seconds Roger Moore stood and continued onwards. His mind was in turmoil. He felt personally responsible for Grace Miller, and now, as if being permanently ‘Off the Grid’ wasn’t dangerous enough, she had gone totally silent. Had she been taken?
There was nothing Moore could do. He needed to have plausible deniability for all Off the Grid ops, this one included. And so it would be left in the hands of the scruffy guy on the bench, her handler.
To Be Continued …
Oooohhh, Grace, the new favourite, is in trouble already?
Is she The Spy Who Loved Me? Because as memory fades, the grief of Ekaterina slowly fades, Grace is my new favourite!
Especially when she’s in trouble! Particularly now she has been so I’ll treated not only by Britain’s enemies, but even her very closest ally, the rat Jason?
Poor Grace, how I wish I could take some of the pain and humiliation away from her, replacing her tears with my own as I take her place…
Confined to the spreader bars, locked in place, my breath taken away, the piss filling the bag after I gasp for air, the awful amber fluid rising against my face… to breathe I must drink, Will there be any end to my humiliation? Will life ever give me a break? Poor Grace, given no grace, only to suffer for the sake of my nation, my family, my tormented soul… this is just where I belong… No grace…
My heart breaks as my arousal rises- take me instead?
Is she The Spy Who Loved Me? Because as memory fades, the grief of Ekaterina slowly fades, Grace is my new favourite!
Especially when she’s in trouble! Particularly now she has been so I’ll treated not only by Britain’s enemies, but even her very closest ally, the rat Jason?
Poor Grace, how I wish I could take some of the pain and humiliation away from her, replacing her tears with my own as I take her place…
Confined to the spreader bars, locked in place, my breath taken away, the piss filling the bag after I gasp for air, the awful amber fluid rising against my face… to breathe I must drink, Will there be any end to my humiliation? Will life ever give me a break? Poor Grace, given no grace, only to suffer for the sake of my nation, my family, my tormented soul… this is just where I belong… No grace…
My heart breaks as my arousal rises- take me instead?
High jinks ?????
Not sure that’s what poor estranged wifey Grace would call them. But as they say, in love and war, the winner takes all. Eat your heart out Grace!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Not sure it's your heart that Jase wants to 'eat out' Barb
...
twonines
LIMERICUS
Incoming! The winner is definitely going to take it all.
