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Sexpionage ...
- Thread starter Fossy
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I think that line says it all.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Sensual Siren (3)
Citipark Gardens, Southall, West London
The Apartment was smart, several steps up from the dingy rooms she had been allocated at the Care Facility in Moscow.
Citipark Gardens, Southall, West London. That was the new address for Yulia Jelic, the girl who had lived in Washington DC, Santiago and now here she was in London, UB2.
Dropping her small case to the floor she looked around and an acute feeling of isolation rendered her momentarily distant. She wasn’t ready for this, another assignment. She was still suffering those awful nightmares, and her body still ached. She had not made love, nor had sex of any kind – except in those damned Virtual Reality scenes – since her time in the dungeons of Santiago. And now here she was, expected to charm a Porn Baron into letting her Honeytrap the Head of MI6!
It was a big job, and Yulia knew that she should be grateful. What would she do if she wasn’t an assigned Agent? Would they even let her live if she was of little value? Would they let her family live? That thought filled her with fear. They wanted her here, so she had to be here. She had no choice in the matter.
She held the leaflet in her hand, the one that described her accommodation.
“The highly contemporary specification will include Amtico walnut flooring and two-tone designer kitchens complete with a range of high-end integrated appliances. Each apartment features a private balcony, and each property will showcase innovatively designed interiors, state-of-the-art integrated appliances and plenty of storage space. Citipark Gardens will incorporate leafy communal spaces into its captivating architecture, in the form of three pleasant rooftop oases for its residents to enjoy exclusively. Southall station is seven minutes' walk from the development, providing superb transport connections; from here, residents will have an easy commute into the City and Central London.”
She smiled. Her parents were supposed wealthy Belarusian business people, financers, bankers both her Mother and Father. Yulia was taking a year, maybe two, out of her career and higher education to get a wider experience of the world. She was only just twenty … Yulia smirked at the way her back stories were getting more complex and her age ever younger …
She wiped away a solitary tear. There was no use for anything like that, no feeling sorry for herself … that wasn’t the Russian way and so it would not be hers.
The Prince of Wales Pub, Southall, West London
Yulia sat warily upright on her bench seat in the Prince of Wales Indian-Gastro-Pub, the view of the bar with its vast array of beers in front of her, along with the portly figure of Lev Yemanov.
Yulia was dressed down in jeans and a thin tank top, her hair framing her face so that it accentuated her natural beauty. Two glasses of chilled Chardonnay in rather fetching crystal wine glasses, unusual for the type of venue they were in.
“Your family will be proud,” said Yemanov, sipping carefully.
“Thank you,” replied Yulia, waiting.
“I congratulate you on your achievements for the Service.”
Yulia thought back to the ‘Medal for Service Distinction’ that sat in storage with the other meagre possessions she had. Yes, her parents would be proud of the rape and abuse she had suffered in the name of the great, all-powerful Federation, for which they had given her a medal. Did she sound bitter? Well maybe, just a little.
Yulia nodded and smiled in response.
Lev Yemanov, he of the toad-like face and portly waistline, was her contact and handler in London. It was Yemanov who had the relationship with Buck Adams, how he had come to know a Porn Baron so well she did not want to ask.
“It is always an honour to serve your country,” he said, fingering the rosette on his lapel. “There is no greater distinction.”
He looked at the girl carefully. “This operation, it’s not something that comes along every day, especially not for one so young.” He sipped at his wine.
“I am eager to be of service,” said Yulia.
“Suffice it to say that the operation, the recruitment of a high ranking foreign official, is one of the most high profile that we have undertaken since the Cold War ended. It is of utmost importance that there be no exposure, no unmasking of the hand of the Service. The Official must be compromised, thoroughly and without ambiguity.”
His voice had grown quiet, serious. Yulia said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
“Naturally, Comrade Colonel Tretykov expressed concern that your overall inexperience despite your recent success, could be a disadvantage. I assured him that I would be with every step of the way …”
Oh, so you’re an extreme fetish submissive model too are you Comrade Yemanov? Her sardonic words remained inside her head.
Yemanov lit his e-cig and blew blackcurrant smoke at the ceiling. He sat further back on the couch.
“And the operation against Mister Moore, this high ranking official, do you intend that it should be a true honey trap?” Yulia knew the answer but she had suddenly acquired a desire to make Yemanov squirm a little.
“The target is never alone during his normal working operations. You cannot meet him during his everyday life. We have assessed his vulnerabilities over many months in order to establish this weakness he has for extreme porn, and I have worked hard with Mister Adams to get him to trust me up to this point where you need to step in Yulia.” He used her cover name.
Yulia stiffened. “Are those my files?” She nodded at the folders placed on the table in front of Yemanov. He nodded.
“From the Rehabilitation Centre?” Once again, he nodded.
“Maybe I can see?” Silently her handler pushed the folders across towards her. With a nervous trepidation she opened the cover and read the narrative that stared her in the face.
‘Summary: Agent Novikova is fully recovered from a physical perspective. Her body will retain scar tissue, the location of which will make it evident that she has received the wounds via sexually oriented torture. For this reason, if we are to make use of Novikova’s undoubted beauty and nubile form then we must leverage these marks … along with the encouraging results from the Virtual Reality (VR) tests.’
Shaking her head Yulia paused to take a drink of her wine before continuing.
“Her Psychological condition is, however, fragile. She remains jumpy and possesses an inherent caution that was not evident before her experience in Santiago. The conclusions drawn from the Virtual Reality (VR) Programme support the recommendation that we utilise Agent Novikova as a part of WASTELAND.”
“WASTELAND,” Yulia questioned.
“Codename for this assignment.” Yemanov replied.
The Agent nodded. “So basically, I was tortured to such extremes that the Service now sees my only value as being in a role where the residual effects of that horror, both mental and physical, can be leveraged for the greater good of the Federation?”
Yemanov could see that his Agent was becoming angry. “You should remain calm Agent, and look at the assignment you have been presented with as a huge slice of good fortune.”
Yulia smirked, and then laughed. It was a sound underpinned not by mirth but by a scornful undertone.
“Yes, you are right Agent Yemanov, I will try and remember that when I am naked and in chains.”
To Be Continued …
Citipark Gardens, Southall, West London
The Apartment was smart, several steps up from the dingy rooms she had been allocated at the Care Facility in Moscow.
Citipark Gardens, Southall, West London. That was the new address for Yulia Jelic, the girl who had lived in Washington DC, Santiago and now here she was in London, UB2.
Dropping her small case to the floor she looked around and an acute feeling of isolation rendered her momentarily distant. She wasn’t ready for this, another assignment. She was still suffering those awful nightmares, and her body still ached. She had not made love, nor had sex of any kind – except in those damned Virtual Reality scenes – since her time in the dungeons of Santiago. And now here she was, expected to charm a Porn Baron into letting her Honeytrap the Head of MI6!
It was a big job, and Yulia knew that she should be grateful. What would she do if she wasn’t an assigned Agent? Would they even let her live if she was of little value? Would they let her family live? That thought filled her with fear. They wanted her here, so she had to be here. She had no choice in the matter.
She held the leaflet in her hand, the one that described her accommodation.
“The highly contemporary specification will include Amtico walnut flooring and two-tone designer kitchens complete with a range of high-end integrated appliances. Each apartment features a private balcony, and each property will showcase innovatively designed interiors, state-of-the-art integrated appliances and plenty of storage space. Citipark Gardens will incorporate leafy communal spaces into its captivating architecture, in the form of three pleasant rooftop oases for its residents to enjoy exclusively. Southall station is seven minutes' walk from the development, providing superb transport connections; from here, residents will have an easy commute into the City and Central London.”
She smiled. Her parents were supposed wealthy Belarusian business people, financers, bankers both her Mother and Father. Yulia was taking a year, maybe two, out of her career and higher education to get a wider experience of the world. She was only just twenty … Yulia smirked at the way her back stories were getting more complex and her age ever younger …
She wiped away a solitary tear. There was no use for anything like that, no feeling sorry for herself … that wasn’t the Russian way and so it would not be hers.
The Prince of Wales Pub, Southall, West London
Yulia sat warily upright on her bench seat in the Prince of Wales Indian-Gastro-Pub, the view of the bar with its vast array of beers in front of her, along with the portly figure of Lev Yemanov.
Yulia was dressed down in jeans and a thin tank top, her hair framing her face so that it accentuated her natural beauty. Two glasses of chilled Chardonnay in rather fetching crystal wine glasses, unusual for the type of venue they were in.
“Your family will be proud,” said Yemanov, sipping carefully.
“Thank you,” replied Yulia, waiting.
“I congratulate you on your achievements for the Service.”
Yulia thought back to the ‘Medal for Service Distinction’ that sat in storage with the other meagre possessions she had. Yes, her parents would be proud of the rape and abuse she had suffered in the name of the great, all-powerful Federation, for which they had given her a medal. Did she sound bitter? Well maybe, just a little.
Yulia nodded and smiled in response.
Lev Yemanov, he of the toad-like face and portly waistline, was her contact and handler in London. It was Yemanov who had the relationship with Buck Adams, how he had come to know a Porn Baron so well she did not want to ask.
“It is always an honour to serve your country,” he said, fingering the rosette on his lapel. “There is no greater distinction.”
He looked at the girl carefully. “This operation, it’s not something that comes along every day, especially not for one so young.” He sipped at his wine.
“I am eager to be of service,” said Yulia.
“Suffice it to say that the operation, the recruitment of a high ranking foreign official, is one of the most high profile that we have undertaken since the Cold War ended. It is of utmost importance that there be no exposure, no unmasking of the hand of the Service. The Official must be compromised, thoroughly and without ambiguity.”
His voice had grown quiet, serious. Yulia said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
“Naturally, Comrade Colonel Tretykov expressed concern that your overall inexperience despite your recent success, could be a disadvantage. I assured him that I would be with every step of the way …”
Oh, so you’re an extreme fetish submissive model too are you Comrade Yemanov? Her sardonic words remained inside her head.
Yemanov lit his e-cig and blew blackcurrant smoke at the ceiling. He sat further back on the couch.
“And the operation against Mister Moore, this high ranking official, do you intend that it should be a true honey trap?” Yulia knew the answer but she had suddenly acquired a desire to make Yemanov squirm a little.
“The target is never alone during his normal working operations. You cannot meet him during his everyday life. We have assessed his vulnerabilities over many months in order to establish this weakness he has for extreme porn, and I have worked hard with Mister Adams to get him to trust me up to this point where you need to step in Yulia.” He used her cover name.
Yulia stiffened. “Are those my files?” She nodded at the folders placed on the table in front of Yemanov. He nodded.
“From the Rehabilitation Centre?” Once again, he nodded.
“Maybe I can see?” Silently her handler pushed the folders across towards her. With a nervous trepidation she opened the cover and read the narrative that stared her in the face.
‘Summary: Agent Novikova is fully recovered from a physical perspective. Her body will retain scar tissue, the location of which will make it evident that she has received the wounds via sexually oriented torture. For this reason, if we are to make use of Novikova’s undoubted beauty and nubile form then we must leverage these marks … along with the encouraging results from the Virtual Reality (VR) tests.’
Shaking her head Yulia paused to take a drink of her wine before continuing.
“Her Psychological condition is, however, fragile. She remains jumpy and possesses an inherent caution that was not evident before her experience in Santiago. The conclusions drawn from the Virtual Reality (VR) Programme support the recommendation that we utilise Agent Novikova as a part of WASTELAND.”
“WASTELAND,” Yulia questioned.
“Codename for this assignment.” Yemanov replied.
The Agent nodded. “So basically, I was tortured to such extremes that the Service now sees my only value as being in a role where the residual effects of that horror, both mental and physical, can be leveraged for the greater good of the Federation?”
Yemanov could see that his Agent was becoming angry. “You should remain calm Agent, and look at the assignment you have been presented with as a huge slice of good fortune.”
Yulia smirked, and then laughed. It was a sound underpinned not by mirth but by a scornful undertone.
“Yes, you are right Agent Yemanov, I will try and remember that when I am naked and in chains.”
To Be Continued …
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Sensual Siren (4)
VIP Rest Rooms, Sophisticats Private Gentleman’s Club, Soho, London
When Yulia stepped out of the stall, Adams was sitting on the small seat across from the wash basins. She hadn't heard the door open, hadn't heard his footfall against the shiny black floor tiles, but somehow his presence, even in the women's restroom, didn't shock her. After his reaction to meeting her around the dinner table in the restaurant of his flagship club, Sophisticats, in the heart of London’s Soho district, there was no telling what he might do.
Private VIP Dining Area, Sophisticats Private Gentleman’s Club, Soho, London (A little earlier)
“This is the daughter of my Belarusian friends, the one I was telling you about.” Yemanov smiled a beaming grin as the hand in small of Yulia’s back pushed her gently forward. The handler had helped her dress, making no pretence even to turn away, ogling her while she stripped, showered and then dressed herself in a manner that was designed to capture the attention of Buck Adams.
Adams gawped, open-mouthed, at the beautiful girl, his gaze drinking in her slender frame, sleek thighs, straight-backed gait, gorgeous face but most of all her firm, expansive breasts, clearly unconstrained but still holding youthfully high on her chest.
Buck Adams, smiled, stood and offered his hand in a relatively chaste manner.
“Buck Adams … this is my place, I own it,” he smirked, his words fuelled by ego, then added, “… what an enchanting little thing you are.”
His manner was patronising in the extreme, bordering on the misogynistic, - ‘little thing’ indeed, you wouldn’t be saying that with my fist gripping your balls you bastard! These were Yulia’s first thoughts of her host, the man she needed to charm. Her first actual words however, were …
“It’s my pleasure, Mister Adams, I have been so looking forward to meeting you.”
Dinner proceeded. The table was circular and so the three of them effectively sat next to one another, but far enough away for Adams to be forced into contenting himself with looking as opposed touching.
However, now here he was, in the VIP Rest Rooms, leaning, arms folded waiting for Yulia to exit the cubicle. One leg crossed the other, his right ankle resting on his left knee he smiled when she appeared. His gaze followed Yulia to the clear glass basin where, proffering no surprise at his presence, she washed her hands, glancing over her shoulder to shoot him a smile. "I've been anticipating this all day."
"Anticipating what?" he asked, rising to his feet. The innocence of his tone bordered on the snide.
"You know what," she replied, unzipping her purse. "Meeting you … properly. I’ve heard so much about you Mister Adams.”
“It’s Buck …” he purred as he approached her rear whilst she was still positioned at the sinks.
"Yulia," Adams whispered into her hair, hovering close behind her as she bent toward the mirror to freshen her lipstick. Even on a store mannequin, that low-cut dress she wore would have given him a hard-on. He'd be drooling if he caught a glimpse of it on a wire hanger. But the classy outfit, just barely clinging to Yulia's flesh, beckoned him to her.
"Yulia," he said once more, but this time his soft tone had become a growl. His courtliness, if indeed he had any at all, was gone. Reaching around her body, he slid his hand inside the top of her dress to dig out her breasts.
“Oh Mister … Buck …” Yulia feigned innocuous surprise, whilst gritting her teeth at his forceful action. Her body was perfect. Firm but yielding, and her breasts seemed to mould around his fingers. He pressed them together, watching in the mirror as her cleavage augmented her chest to an even larger span.
“I love you Russian girls, playing hard to get but wanting it all.”
"I'm from Belarus," Yulia teased, pushing her ass back into his groin.
Adams took in a sharp breath and the heady scent of her perfume filled his lungs. As she massaged his hard cock with her firm posterior, he ran both hands down the front of her dress. "I’m sure you Belarusian sluts are just the same."
This man really was a pig!
But, remaining focused on the job at hand, Yulia smirked, spreading her legs. When he rubbed her pussy through the smooth fabric of that erection-enhancing dress, she writhed into his invasive touch.
"You want me?" she murmured, grasping his fingers as she lifted the short hemline. "Then here I am."
She was being the perfect Academy Cadet. A little ‘Sparrow’ for the Motherland … as she played this arrogant man entirely by the text book.
When he plunged his eager fingers beneath her lace thong, she guided them down her smooth mound and then onwards so that they disappeared between her soft lips. Despite her abhorrence of this swine, Yulia’s slit was bursting with juice when he slid his fingers inside. Adams snarled out his lust … God, he couldn't wait to fuck her, and she'd be begging for it in a minute, but he liked to take his time, to tease his girls.
The Club owner rubbed her clit, stepping backward, pulling up the edge of her dress higher so they could watch themselves in the mirror. Yulia slipped a finger underneath each thin side of her skimpy underwear and pulled it down over her smooth thighs to let it pool on the floor …
As she stepped out of it, leaning her head back into his shoulder, “What if someone …” the club was still open after all.
He laughed, “I have a man posted outside, no one is coming in here until we go out.” Adams pulled his finger free and dragged her backwards until he sat down on the leather sofa.
Yulia, dress bunched around her waist and naked from the waist down, turned her body and straddled his legs, groaning to order.
"You just can't wait for it, can you?" he said with a devilish smirk.
"I can't wait to fuck you." Her breath was hot on his lips. "I can't wait to feel your huge cock in my pussy. I can't wait to throw my tits in your face and feel your tongue all over them."
She knew he would like her to sound vulgar, all men like him did.
Adams could take a hint. As she fished a condom from the depths of her purse, he pressed his face into her breasts until he could barely breathe. "God, I love your tits!"
"I love your cock," she cooed, rubbing its swollen tip through his black pants. She undid his belt and pulled down the zipper, freeing his firm erection from his boxer shorts.
"Just taking this huge thing in my hands gets me so wet." She purred perfectly as she took his hard cock between her palms.
"Does it? Does my cock turn you on?"
"Oh fuck yeah," she growled, slipping the condom down the length of his firm shaft. With the snap of latex, his erection pulsed into her touch. There was no way she was letting a so-called Porn Baron, especially a licentious bastard like this, inside her without protection … there was no telling where his cock had been!
"How about this?" he asked, sucking her aroused nipple into his mouth.
Yulia moaned, throwing her head back, her long blonde hair flowing long and free. "I love that!" she cooed.
"What else?" Adams asked, switching breasts. "Tell me what else turns you on."
Raising her posture a little, enabling to writhe against his sheathed cock, she turned her gaze toward the frosted glass of the women's bathroom door.
“Are you okay?” He asked, showing uncharacteristic concern.
She turned back to him and smiled, winding her arms around his neck and nodded.
"Good girl. Now come on my Belarusian beauty, sit on my cock."
She hovered over him like she might change her mind, like she might decide she didn't want to fuck him today after all. A keen smirk infiltrated her lips as she grasped the base of his shaft. Falling on his erection, she let it pierce her core. Yulia cried out like its mass was killing her, and the thrill sent a shiver right through him. Pulling her close, he sucked hard on her exposed nipples.
"You want to know what turns me on?" she whispered, running her hands through his hair. She spoke quiet, almost confidentially. "You want to know what really turns me on, Mister Adams?”
“Yes, oh fuck, yes I do … tell me.”
She took a deep breath … here goes.
“Slap my face hard while you’re fucking me and then squeeze my neck so tightly that I can barely breathe … do that Mister Adams, and you will discover what really turns me on!”
To Be Continued …
VIP Rest Rooms, Sophisticats Private Gentleman’s Club, Soho, London
When Yulia stepped out of the stall, Adams was sitting on the small seat across from the wash basins. She hadn't heard the door open, hadn't heard his footfall against the shiny black floor tiles, but somehow his presence, even in the women's restroom, didn't shock her. After his reaction to meeting her around the dinner table in the restaurant of his flagship club, Sophisticats, in the heart of London’s Soho district, there was no telling what he might do.
Private VIP Dining Area, Sophisticats Private Gentleman’s Club, Soho, London (A little earlier)
“This is the daughter of my Belarusian friends, the one I was telling you about.” Yemanov smiled a beaming grin as the hand in small of Yulia’s back pushed her gently forward. The handler had helped her dress, making no pretence even to turn away, ogling her while she stripped, showered and then dressed herself in a manner that was designed to capture the attention of Buck Adams.
Adams gawped, open-mouthed, at the beautiful girl, his gaze drinking in her slender frame, sleek thighs, straight-backed gait, gorgeous face but most of all her firm, expansive breasts, clearly unconstrained but still holding youthfully high on her chest.
Buck Adams, smiled, stood and offered his hand in a relatively chaste manner.
“Buck Adams … this is my place, I own it,” he smirked, his words fuelled by ego, then added, “… what an enchanting little thing you are.”
His manner was patronising in the extreme, bordering on the misogynistic, - ‘little thing’ indeed, you wouldn’t be saying that with my fist gripping your balls you bastard! These were Yulia’s first thoughts of her host, the man she needed to charm. Her first actual words however, were …
“It’s my pleasure, Mister Adams, I have been so looking forward to meeting you.”
Dinner proceeded. The table was circular and so the three of them effectively sat next to one another, but far enough away for Adams to be forced into contenting himself with looking as opposed touching.
However, now here he was, in the VIP Rest Rooms, leaning, arms folded waiting for Yulia to exit the cubicle. One leg crossed the other, his right ankle resting on his left knee he smiled when she appeared. His gaze followed Yulia to the clear glass basin where, proffering no surprise at his presence, she washed her hands, glancing over her shoulder to shoot him a smile. "I've been anticipating this all day."
"Anticipating what?" he asked, rising to his feet. The innocence of his tone bordered on the snide.
"You know what," she replied, unzipping her purse. "Meeting you … properly. I’ve heard so much about you Mister Adams.”
“It’s Buck …” he purred as he approached her rear whilst she was still positioned at the sinks.
"Yulia," Adams whispered into her hair, hovering close behind her as she bent toward the mirror to freshen her lipstick. Even on a store mannequin, that low-cut dress she wore would have given him a hard-on. He'd be drooling if he caught a glimpse of it on a wire hanger. But the classy outfit, just barely clinging to Yulia's flesh, beckoned him to her.
"Yulia," he said once more, but this time his soft tone had become a growl. His courtliness, if indeed he had any at all, was gone. Reaching around her body, he slid his hand inside the top of her dress to dig out her breasts.
“Oh Mister … Buck …” Yulia feigned innocuous surprise, whilst gritting her teeth at his forceful action. Her body was perfect. Firm but yielding, and her breasts seemed to mould around his fingers. He pressed them together, watching in the mirror as her cleavage augmented her chest to an even larger span.
“I love you Russian girls, playing hard to get but wanting it all.”
"I'm from Belarus," Yulia teased, pushing her ass back into his groin.
Adams took in a sharp breath and the heady scent of her perfume filled his lungs. As she massaged his hard cock with her firm posterior, he ran both hands down the front of her dress. "I’m sure you Belarusian sluts are just the same."
This man really was a pig!
But, remaining focused on the job at hand, Yulia smirked, spreading her legs. When he rubbed her pussy through the smooth fabric of that erection-enhancing dress, she writhed into his invasive touch.
"You want me?" she murmured, grasping his fingers as she lifted the short hemline. "Then here I am."
She was being the perfect Academy Cadet. A little ‘Sparrow’ for the Motherland … as she played this arrogant man entirely by the text book.
When he plunged his eager fingers beneath her lace thong, she guided them down her smooth mound and then onwards so that they disappeared between her soft lips. Despite her abhorrence of this swine, Yulia’s slit was bursting with juice when he slid his fingers inside. Adams snarled out his lust … God, he couldn't wait to fuck her, and she'd be begging for it in a minute, but he liked to take his time, to tease his girls.
The Club owner rubbed her clit, stepping backward, pulling up the edge of her dress higher so they could watch themselves in the mirror. Yulia slipped a finger underneath each thin side of her skimpy underwear and pulled it down over her smooth thighs to let it pool on the floor …
As she stepped out of it, leaning her head back into his shoulder, “What if someone …” the club was still open after all.
He laughed, “I have a man posted outside, no one is coming in here until we go out.” Adams pulled his finger free and dragged her backwards until he sat down on the leather sofa.
Yulia, dress bunched around her waist and naked from the waist down, turned her body and straddled his legs, groaning to order.
"You just can't wait for it, can you?" he said with a devilish smirk.
"I can't wait to fuck you." Her breath was hot on his lips. "I can't wait to feel your huge cock in my pussy. I can't wait to throw my tits in your face and feel your tongue all over them."
She knew he would like her to sound vulgar, all men like him did.
Adams could take a hint. As she fished a condom from the depths of her purse, he pressed his face into her breasts until he could barely breathe. "God, I love your tits!"
"I love your cock," she cooed, rubbing its swollen tip through his black pants. She undid his belt and pulled down the zipper, freeing his firm erection from his boxer shorts.
"Just taking this huge thing in my hands gets me so wet." She purred perfectly as she took his hard cock between her palms.
"Does it? Does my cock turn you on?"
"Oh fuck yeah," she growled, slipping the condom down the length of his firm shaft. With the snap of latex, his erection pulsed into her touch. There was no way she was letting a so-called Porn Baron, especially a licentious bastard like this, inside her without protection … there was no telling where his cock had been!
"How about this?" he asked, sucking her aroused nipple into his mouth.
Yulia moaned, throwing her head back, her long blonde hair flowing long and free. "I love that!" she cooed.
"What else?" Adams asked, switching breasts. "Tell me what else turns you on."
Raising her posture a little, enabling to writhe against his sheathed cock, she turned her gaze toward the frosted glass of the women's bathroom door.
“Are you okay?” He asked, showing uncharacteristic concern.
She turned back to him and smiled, winding her arms around his neck and nodded.
"Good girl. Now come on my Belarusian beauty, sit on my cock."
She hovered over him like she might change her mind, like she might decide she didn't want to fuck him today after all. A keen smirk infiltrated her lips as she grasped the base of his shaft. Falling on his erection, she let it pierce her core. Yulia cried out like its mass was killing her, and the thrill sent a shiver right through him. Pulling her close, he sucked hard on her exposed nipples.
"You want to know what turns me on?" she whispered, running her hands through his hair. She spoke quiet, almost confidentially. "You want to know what really turns me on, Mister Adams?”
“Yes, oh fuck, yes I do … tell me.”
She took a deep breath … here goes.
“Slap my face hard while you’re fucking me and then squeeze my neck so tightly that I can barely breathe … do that Mister Adams, and you will discover what really turns me on!”
To Be Continued …
The things we women have to do. Sigh. The man really is a pig.
Who names their kid “Buck” anyway?
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Gotta be his 'porn' name BarbThe things we women have to do. Sigh. The man really is a pig.
Who names their kid “Buck” anyway?
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
The actual head of MI6 right now is actually called Richard Moore, and so Roger Moore seemed a great name for all the reasons you mention 99
All relatives of mine, part of the distant UK wing of the global Moore clan. We Moore’s are everywhere.The actual head of MI6 right now is actually called Richard Moore, and so Roger Moore seemed a great name for all the reasons you mention 99
Gibbs505
SERVORUM DOMITOR
Moore or Les?All relatives of mine, part of the distant UK wing of the global Moore clan. We Moore’s are everywhere.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Damn Barb! I actually never made that connection! A whole new dimension gas just been added to the Sexpionage landscape!All relatives of mine, part of the distant UK wing of the global Moore clan. We Moore’s are everywhere.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Shit Yes. Where can I buy it? I have a certain girl here that I cannot wait to try it on!
That's not really possible to enjoy that, is it, girls? Really??
Again, a very attractive employment opportunity for several of our members
The susceptibility of British government Ministers to anything in skirts (or pants, for that matter) has become something of a cliche. Is it part of the interview questions to make it onto the shortlist?
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Sensual Siren (5)
Buck Adams’ Private Office, Sophisticats Gentleman’s Club, Soho, London
Roger Moore, Head of MI6, was too important a client to leave anything to chance, and so despite it being 11pm on a Wednesday evening, Buck Adams was still very happy to host the Government Defence VIP.
These two unlikely bed-fellows were not friends, but they were very much acquaintances. Moore paid Adams way over the odds for the fetish treats he provided; an amount high enough to also secure his silence about the Intelligence Chief’s indiscretions.
“So, you say she’s here right now?”
The Club owner and Porn ‘King’ smirked as he nodded. “She is … we have her bound for you in one of the rooms.”
The faint buzz of late night public transport from Oxford Street came up through the window. Several lamps were lit giving out an ambient glow, and the men had drawn two chairs to the small oak table with the shiny surface. Moore gripped the other man’s hand with an earnest look on his face.
“But she’s Eastern European you say, that has to be a worry. Is she legit?”
Now Adams laughed, “Roger, my dear boy, wait until you see her. All questions regarding legitimacy will disappear from your thoughts, but, yes, she is legit. Yulia has been thoroughly checked, like all our girls. We have never compromised you before, have we?”
Moore visibly relaxed. He had endured another long, hard day and unwinding in the Sophisticats VIP rooms was just what he needed.
“Could I see her?”
“Of course, my friend, but let’s enjoy the fine wine first.” Adams poured a glass of Domaine de Chevalier Blanc 2016, from a carafe with his free hand and offered it to Moore.
“You look well,” he said, priming the pump.
The Head of MI6 let go of Adams’ hand, sat back, took a sip from his wine glass, and looked at his watch. “I do not have more than an hour, maybe two. I will probably be free for the full evening the night after tomorrow.”
Adams nodded. “That is of course fine. So, I suggest that for tonight you watch one of our professionals working on her, with a view to doing the necessary yourself when you have the necessary time.”
There was a pause, before Adams added, “It goes without saying that tonight’s little … erm … exhibition, will be entirely free of any charge.”
It was sometime during that dialogue that Adams had sent a message to his staff informing them to take Yulia from her dressing (or undressing) room, and make sure that she drank a full carafe of water before they left for the allocated VIP suite dungeon.
Mister Moore’s impatience to see his ‘new girl’ was beginning to become evident, and so their pleasant pre-session drinks came to an end. As they both moved away from the table, Adams reflected on his luck in having Yulia Jelic presented to him ‘on a plate’. Not only was she one of the most stunning girls he had ever laid eyes on, and he worked in a world of stunning girls so that was quite a claim, she actually ‘got off’ on pain. Unbelievable, she seemed too good to be true.
That, indeed, was the red flag that Adams should have paid heed to … but, of course, he did not.
Model’s dressing rooms, VIP Suite, Sophisticats Gentleman’s club, Soho, London
“I don’t need to drink anything more!” Yulia protested after the first two swallows, but the large brute of a man at her front, as opposed to the one that had her right upper arm in his tight grip, made her drink all of it until her belly felt bloated.
The men, both dressed all in black, had made her strip naked, tied her arms behind her back by her thumbs and looped a cord around her neck before tying that down to the previously mentioned looped cord. The Agent’s arms were pulled upwards before the men added a long lead, a leash around her neck, so she could be led like a dog.
Mortifying.
She knew both men were eyeing her scars. Those marks told her story, or at least some of it.
“You like getting these?” One of the men fingered her back, running his tips over the still slightly raised welts.
Yulia lowered her head and then looked up at him through a curtain of lusciously long blonde hair and, with a submissive nod, replied, “Yes … Sir.” She hated this game but it had to be played.
“Amazing. What a little slut you are. Your fucking parents must be so proud of you. Come on, move your ass.”
His words hurt more than anything he could have done to her, but ‘move her ass’ she did.
The procession led down several corridors, and was watched on a screen by Moore and Adams at the back of the chosen dungeon room. The Club owner smirked a smug smile as he regarded the dropped jaw and opened mouth of his important acquaintance when he saw the girl.
“She is truly beautiful,” was all the Head of MI6 said.
Yulia couldn’t keep her breasts from bouncing. It was humiliating in the extreme to be paraded naked like this ... and yes, she had been told that she was already being watched on camera. The things she did for the cursed Motherland!
In the chosen room Adams and Moore were seated in comfy leather seats, nursing whisky glasses, at the back of the room.
“We have Bruno as our Dom for this demonstration.” Adams whispered to Moore.
One of the men dressed in black moved off to sit at the side, whilst the other presented himself as the aforementioned Bruno. He was large of stature, a domineering presence, both men were, and their overall demeanour suggested they were from a military background.
Bruno pushed Yulia forward to face the back of the room and then he had her stand her so that he could fully bind her. It was Bruno’s decision how to bind and exhibit her. Given that the importance of the session had been explained to him by Mister Adams, he planned to expose Yulia in a most lewd and humiliating manner.
He bound her wrists together; then used a rough hemp rope around her upper body to cinch her waist as tightly as he could. Finally, he tied ropes to her thighs and secured Yulia’s ankles to her groin, before Bruno and his nameless colleague hauled her up to hang from the overhead beam. Her knees were pulled up as far as they would go and spread wide apart in the process.
A whimper was all that Yulia could manage, as her position meant that her breasts were prominently displayed with her pussy yawning obscenely and anus similarly exposed for Mister Moore’s enjoyment.
The bondage was expertly executed, and tilted her hips to show off the spread, moist, pink folds of her cunt. The small, but important, audience could see plainly the tight, brown pucker marking the entrance to her ass, hidden in the dark cleft of her buttocks.
“I told you,” Adams leaned in to speak confidentially to his guest, who in turn simply nodded, his throat already dry beyond verbal competence.
Unseen to the watchers was the bound girl’s rapidly engorging clitoris was peeping out of its hood. Yulia was already feeling a growing pressure in her bladder, telling her she would soon need to urinate. She knew now why these brutes had insisted that she drank the whole pitcher of water,
Bastards!
A full bladder put pressure on her urethral sponge, which, in turn, stimulated her vaginal walls. Bruno knew just what he was doing! Yulia’s feminine treasures were fully spread and exposed to the hard, cruel stares of the UK’s Head of Foreign Intelligence. The Agent knew why she was undergoing this painful humiliation … the WASTELAND Programme, to which she was assigned, was the most high profile plan that the Federation had undertaken in many years, but that reasoning served as cold comfort at this moment in time as the ropes began to bite!
Although Yulia could feel a growing stimulation radiating throughout her body, it only served to compound her ever growing need to pee … she moaned in agonised self-pity.
Bruno put a hand on her back to push her so that she swung in her bonds like a puppet. She could sense the swelling of her clitoris, and struggled to supress a groan. The reaction of the SVR Agent’s body left no doubt that she was aroused. Yulia was devastated. It was true. Since her treatment in the dungeons of Santiago this was how she became turned on … a fact that Service now knew and intended to make full use of!
The “exhibition” was worse than she ever imagined. Towards the back Roger Moore studied Yulia. He had his own plans for her and rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he watched the girl’s delightful suffering.
The beautiful and bound Agent groaned, bit her lip and wished she could hide her face, but there was nowhere to conceal herself in any way. She let her head fall back and closed her eyes; it was all that she could do. There was no way to avoid the staring gaze directed her way.
When Yulia began moaning from the muscle ache created by her enforced position, Moore’s groin swelled. The girl felt like she had been turned into a puppet simply for amusement and entertainment as she sweated, writhed and wriggled in her bonds.
“Is your man going to do anything else?”
“Anything else, Roger?” Adams questioned.
“Yes, you know, to the girl I mean.”
The Club owner smiled. “The intention tonight is to show you two things my dear friend. Firstly, how beautiful she is, which she is, right Roger?”
Moore nodded in agreement, before his host continued.
“… and also, to tie and display her like this, maximise her humiliation and then watch as, without actually being touched, she becomes turned on. We do this to prove that she is the perfect masochist ,which means that you may feel comfortable with the reasoning as to why she is being presented to you. She likes it Roger, plain and simple.”
The Senior Government official held out his tumbler for a refresh to his dwindling shot of golden Ardbeg, and smiled.
Yulia knew that her pussy was dripping of its own accord, she could feel it, but she couldn’t see the growing pool evidencing her stimulation that was spreading onto the stone floor below her bound body. Sweat ran in rivulets down her face, neck, breasts; she was itchy, and her muscles ached.
The girl tried to control herself, but there was nothing she could do. The ropes irritated her skin and tormented her mercilessly. To feel an itch and not be able to scratch was maddening. And being bound caused her limbs to spasm and twitch from the strain. It was sheer torture. And now, the girl’s bladder began to demand her full attention.
She felt the need to urinate.
“I … I … need to … pee … please,” she pleaded no absolutely no avail whatsoever." She struggled for the next fifteen minutes to control herself, as the growing need became a terrible torment.
With her bladder swollen, the pressure became unbearably painful.
“PLEASE!” She yelled out.
“Mister Adams, I simply adore this girl …” Adams grinned at the response of his guest to the bound girl’s begging.
Finally, half out of her mind, Yulia began to whimper and whine as the dam was about to burst. It wasn’t long in coming. She felt her urethra contract, and knowing that this meant she was about to pee, tried to clamp down and stop herself ...
But it was no use, her position made control an impossibility. Yulia’s bladder was too full … it had swollen to the bursting point. A soft, low groan escaped her lips as the mouth of her twitching urethra began to open.
“Ohhhhhh pleeeeeeease!”
A moment later, she began urinating uncontrollably. The yellow drops, became a flow and then turned into a surge, as urine gushed out from between her thighs in a high arc to cover the cold stark floor below.
Yulia’s head fell back and her long hair flowed towards the ground.
“Please, please will someone touch me! Oh God, pleeeeeeeeese!”
But no one did, and, through her own words and lascivious actions, her sexual masochism was proven for all to see.
“She is absolutely splendid Buck, old boy. I will return the day after next to use her. Have her prepared and ready for me as usual.”
Roger Moore, Head of MI6, stood and moved over to where a very humiliated Yulia hung bound and naked. His hand smoothed over her thigh and the cupped her breasts.
“Yes, you will do very nicely little swallow …”
Yulia knew that now there was no turning back.
Yulia’s suffering will be continued next week in the serialisation of … ‘Government Plaything’.
Thank you all for your wonderful support and interaction.
Buck Adams’ Private Office, Sophisticats Gentleman’s Club, Soho, London
Roger Moore, Head of MI6, was too important a client to leave anything to chance, and so despite it being 11pm on a Wednesday evening, Buck Adams was still very happy to host the Government Defence VIP.
These two unlikely bed-fellows were not friends, but they were very much acquaintances. Moore paid Adams way over the odds for the fetish treats he provided; an amount high enough to also secure his silence about the Intelligence Chief’s indiscretions.
“So, you say she’s here right now?”
The Club owner and Porn ‘King’ smirked as he nodded. “She is … we have her bound for you in one of the rooms.”
The faint buzz of late night public transport from Oxford Street came up through the window. Several lamps were lit giving out an ambient glow, and the men had drawn two chairs to the small oak table with the shiny surface. Moore gripped the other man’s hand with an earnest look on his face.
“But she’s Eastern European you say, that has to be a worry. Is she legit?”
Now Adams laughed, “Roger, my dear boy, wait until you see her. All questions regarding legitimacy will disappear from your thoughts, but, yes, she is legit. Yulia has been thoroughly checked, like all our girls. We have never compromised you before, have we?”
Moore visibly relaxed. He had endured another long, hard day and unwinding in the Sophisticats VIP rooms was just what he needed.
“Could I see her?”
“Of course, my friend, but let’s enjoy the fine wine first.” Adams poured a glass of Domaine de Chevalier Blanc 2016, from a carafe with his free hand and offered it to Moore.
“You look well,” he said, priming the pump.
The Head of MI6 let go of Adams’ hand, sat back, took a sip from his wine glass, and looked at his watch. “I do not have more than an hour, maybe two. I will probably be free for the full evening the night after tomorrow.”
Adams nodded. “That is of course fine. So, I suggest that for tonight you watch one of our professionals working on her, with a view to doing the necessary yourself when you have the necessary time.”
There was a pause, before Adams added, “It goes without saying that tonight’s little … erm … exhibition, will be entirely free of any charge.”
It was sometime during that dialogue that Adams had sent a message to his staff informing them to take Yulia from her dressing (or undressing) room, and make sure that she drank a full carafe of water before they left for the allocated VIP suite dungeon.
Mister Moore’s impatience to see his ‘new girl’ was beginning to become evident, and so their pleasant pre-session drinks came to an end. As they both moved away from the table, Adams reflected on his luck in having Yulia Jelic presented to him ‘on a plate’. Not only was she one of the most stunning girls he had ever laid eyes on, and he worked in a world of stunning girls so that was quite a claim, she actually ‘got off’ on pain. Unbelievable, she seemed too good to be true.
That, indeed, was the red flag that Adams should have paid heed to … but, of course, he did not.
Model’s dressing rooms, VIP Suite, Sophisticats Gentleman’s club, Soho, London
“I don’t need to drink anything more!” Yulia protested after the first two swallows, but the large brute of a man at her front, as opposed to the one that had her right upper arm in his tight grip, made her drink all of it until her belly felt bloated.
The men, both dressed all in black, had made her strip naked, tied her arms behind her back by her thumbs and looped a cord around her neck before tying that down to the previously mentioned looped cord. The Agent’s arms were pulled upwards before the men added a long lead, a leash around her neck, so she could be led like a dog.
Mortifying.
She knew both men were eyeing her scars. Those marks told her story, or at least some of it.
“You like getting these?” One of the men fingered her back, running his tips over the still slightly raised welts.
Yulia lowered her head and then looked up at him through a curtain of lusciously long blonde hair and, with a submissive nod, replied, “Yes … Sir.” She hated this game but it had to be played.
“Amazing. What a little slut you are. Your fucking parents must be so proud of you. Come on, move your ass.”
His words hurt more than anything he could have done to her, but ‘move her ass’ she did.
The procession led down several corridors, and was watched on a screen by Moore and Adams at the back of the chosen dungeon room. The Club owner smirked a smug smile as he regarded the dropped jaw and opened mouth of his important acquaintance when he saw the girl.
“She is truly beautiful,” was all the Head of MI6 said.
Yulia couldn’t keep her breasts from bouncing. It was humiliating in the extreme to be paraded naked like this ... and yes, she had been told that she was already being watched on camera. The things she did for the cursed Motherland!
In the chosen room Adams and Moore were seated in comfy leather seats, nursing whisky glasses, at the back of the room.
“We have Bruno as our Dom for this demonstration.” Adams whispered to Moore.
One of the men dressed in black moved off to sit at the side, whilst the other presented himself as the aforementioned Bruno. He was large of stature, a domineering presence, both men were, and their overall demeanour suggested they were from a military background.
Bruno pushed Yulia forward to face the back of the room and then he had her stand her so that he could fully bind her. It was Bruno’s decision how to bind and exhibit her. Given that the importance of the session had been explained to him by Mister Adams, he planned to expose Yulia in a most lewd and humiliating manner.
He bound her wrists together; then used a rough hemp rope around her upper body to cinch her waist as tightly as he could. Finally, he tied ropes to her thighs and secured Yulia’s ankles to her groin, before Bruno and his nameless colleague hauled her up to hang from the overhead beam. Her knees were pulled up as far as they would go and spread wide apart in the process.
A whimper was all that Yulia could manage, as her position meant that her breasts were prominently displayed with her pussy yawning obscenely and anus similarly exposed for Mister Moore’s enjoyment.
The bondage was expertly executed, and tilted her hips to show off the spread, moist, pink folds of her cunt. The small, but important, audience could see plainly the tight, brown pucker marking the entrance to her ass, hidden in the dark cleft of her buttocks.
“I told you,” Adams leaned in to speak confidentially to his guest, who in turn simply nodded, his throat already dry beyond verbal competence.
Unseen to the watchers was the bound girl’s rapidly engorging clitoris was peeping out of its hood. Yulia was already feeling a growing pressure in her bladder, telling her she would soon need to urinate. She knew now why these brutes had insisted that she drank the whole pitcher of water,
Bastards!
A full bladder put pressure on her urethral sponge, which, in turn, stimulated her vaginal walls. Bruno knew just what he was doing! Yulia’s feminine treasures were fully spread and exposed to the hard, cruel stares of the UK’s Head of Foreign Intelligence. The Agent knew why she was undergoing this painful humiliation … the WASTELAND Programme, to which she was assigned, was the most high profile plan that the Federation had undertaken in many years, but that reasoning served as cold comfort at this moment in time as the ropes began to bite!
Although Yulia could feel a growing stimulation radiating throughout her body, it only served to compound her ever growing need to pee … she moaned in agonised self-pity.
Bruno put a hand on her back to push her so that she swung in her bonds like a puppet. She could sense the swelling of her clitoris, and struggled to supress a groan. The reaction of the SVR Agent’s body left no doubt that she was aroused. Yulia was devastated. It was true. Since her treatment in the dungeons of Santiago this was how she became turned on … a fact that Service now knew and intended to make full use of!
The “exhibition” was worse than she ever imagined. Towards the back Roger Moore studied Yulia. He had his own plans for her and rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he watched the girl’s delightful suffering.
The beautiful and bound Agent groaned, bit her lip and wished she could hide her face, but there was nowhere to conceal herself in any way. She let her head fall back and closed her eyes; it was all that she could do. There was no way to avoid the staring gaze directed her way.
When Yulia began moaning from the muscle ache created by her enforced position, Moore’s groin swelled. The girl felt like she had been turned into a puppet simply for amusement and entertainment as she sweated, writhed and wriggled in her bonds.
“Is your man going to do anything else?”
“Anything else, Roger?” Adams questioned.
“Yes, you know, to the girl I mean.”
The Club owner smiled. “The intention tonight is to show you two things my dear friend. Firstly, how beautiful she is, which she is, right Roger?”
Moore nodded in agreement, before his host continued.
“… and also, to tie and display her like this, maximise her humiliation and then watch as, without actually being touched, she becomes turned on. We do this to prove that she is the perfect masochist ,which means that you may feel comfortable with the reasoning as to why she is being presented to you. She likes it Roger, plain and simple.”
The Senior Government official held out his tumbler for a refresh to his dwindling shot of golden Ardbeg, and smiled.
Yulia knew that her pussy was dripping of its own accord, she could feel it, but she couldn’t see the growing pool evidencing her stimulation that was spreading onto the stone floor below her bound body. Sweat ran in rivulets down her face, neck, breasts; she was itchy, and her muscles ached.
The girl tried to control herself, but there was nothing she could do. The ropes irritated her skin and tormented her mercilessly. To feel an itch and not be able to scratch was maddening. And being bound caused her limbs to spasm and twitch from the strain. It was sheer torture. And now, the girl’s bladder began to demand her full attention.
She felt the need to urinate.
“I … I … need to … pee … please,” she pleaded no absolutely no avail whatsoever." She struggled for the next fifteen minutes to control herself, as the growing need became a terrible torment.
With her bladder swollen, the pressure became unbearably painful.
“PLEASE!” She yelled out.
“Mister Adams, I simply adore this girl …” Adams grinned at the response of his guest to the bound girl’s begging.
Finally, half out of her mind, Yulia began to whimper and whine as the dam was about to burst. It wasn’t long in coming. She felt her urethra contract, and knowing that this meant she was about to pee, tried to clamp down and stop herself ...
But it was no use, her position made control an impossibility. Yulia’s bladder was too full … it had swollen to the bursting point. A soft, low groan escaped her lips as the mouth of her twitching urethra began to open.
“Ohhhhhh pleeeeeeease!”
A moment later, she began urinating uncontrollably. The yellow drops, became a flow and then turned into a surge, as urine gushed out from between her thighs in a high arc to cover the cold stark floor below.
Yulia’s head fell back and her long hair flowed towards the ground.
“Please, please will someone touch me! Oh God, pleeeeeeeeese!”
But no one did, and, through her own words and lascivious actions, her sexual masochism was proven for all to see.
“She is absolutely splendid Buck, old boy. I will return the day after next to use her. Have her prepared and ready for me as usual.”
Roger Moore, Head of MI6, stood and moved over to where a very humiliated Yulia hung bound and naked. His hand smoothed over her thigh and the cupped her breasts.
“Yes, you will do very nicely little swallow …”
Yulia knew that now there was no turning back.
Yulia’s suffering will be continued next week in the serialisation of … ‘Government Plaything’.
Thank you all for your wonderful support and interaction.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
There is still very much time my friend! ...
Bait?
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Would the Head of MI6 really be that stupid? - answers on a postcard
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Just how I like them. Reminds me of my special girl!Oh yeah! One minute! Mr. Forepaly!
Sounds like she might be interested in a little heavy petting!
My kind of a sweet girl next door! Nice to know she's patiently waiting. I, however, am worried about staining my trousers!
Some men only think with their ****
One very hot story, foss!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Government Plaything (1)
Yulia’s Aprtment, Citipark Gardens, Southall, West London
“I said I would be with you every step of the way, and I will. The WASTELAND programme is too important to be left in any way to chance.”
Yulia smirked, “So you will be joining me in whatever despicable act of bondage Mister Moore has planned, will you?” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice as she spoke in a manner bordering on insubordination to the man who wasn’t just her handler but also her superior.
He laughed and poured himself a drink from the clear glass bottle of Stolichnaya. Despite being in her apartment, Yemanov gave no sign of wanting to share a drink with his Agent.
“You need to be properly sober for tonight,” was all he said when he sensed her thoughts.
Once again, a witless laugh emanated from Yulia’s throat. “I think the more drunk I am the better, don’t you?”
So far, the WASTELAND Programme was going to plan. Yulia had charmed the monstrous Buck Adams to such an extent that getting the required position in his stable of fetish models proved to be easy. It was then, following that humiliating exhibition of her bound body (see Sensual Siren), equally straight forward to get herself to become Roger Moore’s ‘girl of choice’.
And so now here they were, Yulia and Yemanov. He would drive her to Sophisticats where she would be left until the Head of MI6 had finished with her. Her assignment for this evening was to do no more than accede to everything he wanted. To moan, groan and writhe in the right places and cry out begging for mercy when appropriate.
God knows, she could manage that.
The plan was then for Yulia to secure an invitation away from the club and to Moore’s personal residence where she could become even more ingrained into his everyday life away from the fantasy.
“Did you read his file?” Yemanov asked once he’d finished his drink.
“Of course,” Yulia replied, annoyed he’d asked. She may not like this mission or having to work with this toad-like misogynist, but she was still a professional, and she would give this assignment her best, as she always did.
“Glad to hear it,” her handler replied, pouring himself another drink, caring not that he was about to drive his Agent to her assignment.
“Let’s hope you will not forget how to conduct yourself this time, and Colonel Tretykov has no cause to regret his decision in allowing you to do this.”
Staring at the ceiling, Yulia clenched her teeth to avoid saying something she might regret later. Once she had made a mistake. Just once. But it looked like Yemanov would use every opportunity he could to remind her of that lapse in judgment.
It had happened over a year ago when she’d finished a job in Washington DC (see Swallow’s Nest). The assignment had been a success but her subsequent lack of procedural adherence had caused the hierarchy from the Centre in Moscow to visit her and teach her the error of her ways (see A Friendly Hell).
Now, it was a black mark on her file, and that ordeal served as a reminder for her to remain focused at all times.
She had to get ready. It was the time for her to dress-to-impress. Yulia was anything but coy, she wouldn’t have made it through the Academy if she had been, and she’d done far worse with her body than strip in front of a man, but she was loath to give Yemanov a free show, and so Yulia had only appeared from the bedroom once she’d pulled on her panties and bra. But now her handler’s lust fuelled gaze followed her every move.
“I won’t let anyone down Comrade Yemanov,” she said, stepping into the tight, short dress that he had chosen for her to wear.” Lev Yemanov smiled an appreciative smile as she bent down to slip on her four-inch heels.
“The Motherland is relying on you Agent Jelic, and I would hate to have to reprimand you in the event of failure.”
“Perish the thought,” she muttered as Yemanov held the apartment door open for her. It was time to go.
Private VIP Area, Sophisticats Gentlemen’s Club, Soho, West London
"Please, take off all your clothes, fold them, place them on that bench over there. I'll be back in a few minutes." The strict looking middle aged female gave the young Agent her instructions.
Yulia heard the door shut behind her and then slowly began to undress.
She was down to just her bra and panties when the woman returned.
"You'll have to remove the undergarments too." She said and handed Yulia a full body leather cat suit. "You'll need to use a lot of talcum powder on your legs and arms to get this suit on. Let me know when you have succeeded." She turned and left again.
The SVR Agent was nonplussed. She knew this guy was kinky but really … did she have to put this diabolical costume on?
Yulia struggled, but after what seemed like an age, she had the suit pulled up on to her legs and her arms through the sleeves and was now struggling to secure the front fastening when the woman walked back into the room. She did not knock. She placed the bundle of what she was carrying down on the bench and told Yulia to turn around. Pulling the cat suit firmly over Yulia's shoulders, she reached around, grasped the zipper and pulled it up.
The leather fitted her stunning 34-26-34" body like a second skin.
It narrowed just above the hips and gripped at her abdomen. Yulia’s breasts squeezed into two built in leather cups, and something inside them pressed into the soft flesh. The Agent didn't realise that the inside of each cup was laced with a number of tiny needless meant to irritate her breasts without breaking the skin.
Feeling just a little embarrassed, Yulia watched, and whimpered, as the ‘helper’ pulled her nipples through two small holes cut out of the front of the leather garment, exposing them.
"Very good. Now step into this and pull it up over your hips." The instructions were given Yulia was handed a white leather corset.
The Agent did as she was told and pulled the heavily boned garment up over her hips and around her waist. Once she had it in place, the woman began to buckle the four back straps, pulling them tightly together, drawing Yulia’s body shape into an even more slender size. When all four straps were buckled, they were addressed again and pulled one notch tighter, squeezing Yulia's waist a full two inches smaller, and making it somewhat difficult for her to take any deep breaths.
This also had the impact of pushing the Agent’s breasts further into the cat suit cups pressing her firm curves harder against the unseen needless.
With a gasp, Yulia glanced down and noticed how more than just her nipples were poking through the suit. It was if her aureoles were trying to escape through the purposely designed holes too. The woman then took four small pad locks and locked down each of the buckles. There was no taking off the cat suit until the corset was removed, and without the keys, that wasn't happening any time soon.
"Okay, let’s get your gloves on next, we need to be quick, your Master is waiting."
… Master …
Yulia’s right hand was grabbed – she offered with no resistance. The Agent watched as the glove, which was actually a bondage mitt covering her whole hand, was pulled up to her wrist and buckled on. The woman then took a hold of her left hand and did the same to it. Two more miniature pad locks made sure the mitts could not be removed.
When her ‘dresser’ stepped away to retrieve the next item, a close faced leather helmet, Yulia gasped. What the fuck was going on here? Yulia could not even begin to imagine what Moore had in store for her!
Or maybe she could …
To Be Continued …
Yulia’s Aprtment, Citipark Gardens, Southall, West London
“I said I would be with you every step of the way, and I will. The WASTELAND programme is too important to be left in any way to chance.”
Yulia smirked, “So you will be joining me in whatever despicable act of bondage Mister Moore has planned, will you?” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice as she spoke in a manner bordering on insubordination to the man who wasn’t just her handler but also her superior.
He laughed and poured himself a drink from the clear glass bottle of Stolichnaya. Despite being in her apartment, Yemanov gave no sign of wanting to share a drink with his Agent.
“You need to be properly sober for tonight,” was all he said when he sensed her thoughts.
Once again, a witless laugh emanated from Yulia’s throat. “I think the more drunk I am the better, don’t you?”
So far, the WASTELAND Programme was going to plan. Yulia had charmed the monstrous Buck Adams to such an extent that getting the required position in his stable of fetish models proved to be easy. It was then, following that humiliating exhibition of her bound body (see Sensual Siren), equally straight forward to get herself to become Roger Moore’s ‘girl of choice’.
And so now here they were, Yulia and Yemanov. He would drive her to Sophisticats where she would be left until the Head of MI6 had finished with her. Her assignment for this evening was to do no more than accede to everything he wanted. To moan, groan and writhe in the right places and cry out begging for mercy when appropriate.
God knows, she could manage that.
The plan was then for Yulia to secure an invitation away from the club and to Moore’s personal residence where she could become even more ingrained into his everyday life away from the fantasy.
“Did you read his file?” Yemanov asked once he’d finished his drink.
“Of course,” Yulia replied, annoyed he’d asked. She may not like this mission or having to work with this toad-like misogynist, but she was still a professional, and she would give this assignment her best, as she always did.
“Glad to hear it,” her handler replied, pouring himself another drink, caring not that he was about to drive his Agent to her assignment.
“Let’s hope you will not forget how to conduct yourself this time, and Colonel Tretykov has no cause to regret his decision in allowing you to do this.”
Staring at the ceiling, Yulia clenched her teeth to avoid saying something she might regret later. Once she had made a mistake. Just once. But it looked like Yemanov would use every opportunity he could to remind her of that lapse in judgment.
It had happened over a year ago when she’d finished a job in Washington DC (see Swallow’s Nest). The assignment had been a success but her subsequent lack of procedural adherence had caused the hierarchy from the Centre in Moscow to visit her and teach her the error of her ways (see A Friendly Hell).
Now, it was a black mark on her file, and that ordeal served as a reminder for her to remain focused at all times.
She had to get ready. It was the time for her to dress-to-impress. Yulia was anything but coy, she wouldn’t have made it through the Academy if she had been, and she’d done far worse with her body than strip in front of a man, but she was loath to give Yemanov a free show, and so Yulia had only appeared from the bedroom once she’d pulled on her panties and bra. But now her handler’s lust fuelled gaze followed her every move.
“I won’t let anyone down Comrade Yemanov,” she said, stepping into the tight, short dress that he had chosen for her to wear.” Lev Yemanov smiled an appreciative smile as she bent down to slip on her four-inch heels.
“The Motherland is relying on you Agent Jelic, and I would hate to have to reprimand you in the event of failure.”
“Perish the thought,” she muttered as Yemanov held the apartment door open for her. It was time to go.
Private VIP Area, Sophisticats Gentlemen’s Club, Soho, West London
"Please, take off all your clothes, fold them, place them on that bench over there. I'll be back in a few minutes." The strict looking middle aged female gave the young Agent her instructions.
Yulia heard the door shut behind her and then slowly began to undress.
She was down to just her bra and panties when the woman returned.
"You'll have to remove the undergarments too." She said and handed Yulia a full body leather cat suit. "You'll need to use a lot of talcum powder on your legs and arms to get this suit on. Let me know when you have succeeded." She turned and left again.
The SVR Agent was nonplussed. She knew this guy was kinky but really … did she have to put this diabolical costume on?
Yulia struggled, but after what seemed like an age, she had the suit pulled up on to her legs and her arms through the sleeves and was now struggling to secure the front fastening when the woman walked back into the room. She did not knock. She placed the bundle of what she was carrying down on the bench and told Yulia to turn around. Pulling the cat suit firmly over Yulia's shoulders, she reached around, grasped the zipper and pulled it up.
The leather fitted her stunning 34-26-34" body like a second skin.
It narrowed just above the hips and gripped at her abdomen. Yulia’s breasts squeezed into two built in leather cups, and something inside them pressed into the soft flesh. The Agent didn't realise that the inside of each cup was laced with a number of tiny needless meant to irritate her breasts without breaking the skin.
Feeling just a little embarrassed, Yulia watched, and whimpered, as the ‘helper’ pulled her nipples through two small holes cut out of the front of the leather garment, exposing them.
"Very good. Now step into this and pull it up over your hips." The instructions were given Yulia was handed a white leather corset.
The Agent did as she was told and pulled the heavily boned garment up over her hips and around her waist. Once she had it in place, the woman began to buckle the four back straps, pulling them tightly together, drawing Yulia’s body shape into an even more slender size. When all four straps were buckled, they were addressed again and pulled one notch tighter, squeezing Yulia's waist a full two inches smaller, and making it somewhat difficult for her to take any deep breaths.
This also had the impact of pushing the Agent’s breasts further into the cat suit cups pressing her firm curves harder against the unseen needless.
With a gasp, Yulia glanced down and noticed how more than just her nipples were poking through the suit. It was if her aureoles were trying to escape through the purposely designed holes too. The woman then took four small pad locks and locked down each of the buckles. There was no taking off the cat suit until the corset was removed, and without the keys, that wasn't happening any time soon.
"Okay, let’s get your gloves on next, we need to be quick, your Master is waiting."
… Master …
Yulia’s right hand was grabbed – she offered with no resistance. The Agent watched as the glove, which was actually a bondage mitt covering her whole hand, was pulled up to her wrist and buckled on. The woman then took a hold of her left hand and did the same to it. Two more miniature pad locks made sure the mitts could not be removed.
When her ‘dresser’ stepped away to retrieve the next item, a close faced leather helmet, Yulia gasped. What the fuck was going on here? Yulia could not even begin to imagine what Moore had in store for her!
Or maybe she could …
To Be Continued …
There always has to be an implied threat, doesn’t there? Let’s not allow any complacency to settle in. We own you is the message. Got it?