0 comments/ 27663 views/ 5 favorites Holey Nightie: Golden Tongues Affair By: Bacomicfan Holey Nightie: The Golden Tongues Affair When the door swung open, Miss Cashnickel nearly fainted. There in the doorway, dark eyes literally glowing with confidence, was Agent 0011-1/2. He removed his light jacket with a bold flourish and tossed it a dozen feet across the room, where it landed dead center on one of the hooks of the wood and copper coat rack, settling over it perfectly, coming to rest immediately upon landing. "Good evening, Miss Cashnickel," the tall, handsome agent said, the tone behind the words sounding more like "Would you like to go down on me, Miss Cashnickel?" to the swooning secretary. "Mister Bondage. Um...so wonderful to see you," she stammered, her eyes saying, "Yes, yes, yes!" to the words that only her mind heard. James walked up to her with a swagger, leaned over her desk and rubbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger, staring into her eyes, smiling his sweet, disarming smile. She nearly creamed all over herself...as she nearly did EVERY time he gazed into her eyes like that. "You here to see Number One, or are you going to finally sweep me off my feet and take me home with you?" she managed to say, surprising even herself. James kissed the tip of her nose and winked into her pretty blue eyes. "Nonsense, Miss Cashnickel, no man could possibly deserve a treat as obviously tasty as yourself. You are above such things. For you to accept a mere mortal man, even myself, would be criminal. You deserve a true god to worship you properly...and I, Miss Cashnickel, am but a mere man. Above average, perhaps, but a man nonetheless." Again he winked. He released her chin and stood, nodding toward the large oak door to the right of her desk. "He's in, I take it?" "Yes....he's.....in. He's...been expecting you." she sighed, her eyes glassy as she watched the incredibly good-looking man head for the door. As he opened it, he turned and winked again, blowing her a kiss. He then looked her up and down with a most obvious and evil sexual smirk on his face. Miss Cashnickel covertly reached for a box of tissues in her desk drawer, to sop up the growing moisture between her legs. When she looked back up to the door, James was gone and the door was shut. "Ahh....Bondage....good to see you. I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances, however." The jovial looking, slightly round man held out his hand and James took it, shaking it with restrained vigor. "A problem, Number One?" James's right eyebrow raised, his interest piqued. "Please, sit down," Number One said, pointing toward the chair in front of his desk... a chair that James had sat in countless numbers of times over the last fifteen years. When both men were seated, he answered the younger agent's question. "I'm afraid you've assessed the situation correctly, James. There most certainly IS a problem." Opening the center drawer of his desk, he pulled out a somewhat worn, cream colored file folder and tossed it over to James's side of the desk. "I'm sure you're aware of our ongoing problems with Holey Nightie. Most exasperating." "Yes," James replied, flipping open the bulging folder and thumbing through its contents. "But I thought you'd finally sent someone to take care of her." "Yes, we did," Number One said, running his hand agitatedly through his almost nonexistent hair. "But it appears she was onto us. Either she was aware of the trap we'd set for her, or we have a leak in the organization. Either way, she foiled our plan to....put an end to her constant interference in the States. As you can see from the first photo in the file..." "Yes, yes, I see..." James sighed, sitting back in his chair looking at the eight by ten glossy. "That appears to be agent 009. And he appears a bit the worse for wear." "Don't be coy, James. He's dead. That Holey Nightie witch killed him like she has so many of our top agents. The woman MUST be dealt with!" Beads of sweat were forming in rapid succession on Number One's forehead, a brow that had furrowed considerably in the last few moments. James was silent. His keenly trained eyes were taking in every detail of the color glossy, disturbed at what he saw. But it was exactly the same as all the other photos in the file. Only the individual man in each photo changed. Everything else was exactly the same. It was Holey Nightie's m.o. And she never wavered from it. "When can I see the body?" James asked, his brow now furrowing as well. "Immediately. I want you on this case as of this very instant. The sooner this nefarious vamp is no longer a thorn in the organization's side, the better. I'll take you to the morgue myself. Come along." Obviously unnerved and in a hurry to set things right, Number One stood up quickly and strode past James out the door. James followed, deep in thought, not even bothering to tease Miss Cashnickel on his way out. ********************** "It's exactly the same as all the others," the rotund man said as he uncovered the body for Number One and James to examine, "and the photos just don't do the horror of it all justice. That Holey Nightie woman is the devil in disguise, I tell you. She's as cruel as they come. Look at this poor man." "Well," James noted, "he appears to have died happy." "Don't let that satisfied grin fool you, James. He died a horrible death. One can only imagine how he must've suffered before he died." Number One's eyes were round, red-rimmed and pupils dilated, such was his conviction in this heinous matter. "Looks to me like he scored with every one of the Dallas Cheerleaders before he died," James blundered, realizing all too late that he'd ruffled some feathers. "James! Really!! I'll not abide such talk. Agent 009 was one of our best operatives, and if he's dead it's not a joking matter!" "Sorry, Number One," James said, trying to rebound from his poor attempt at humor, "What I mean is that this Holey Nightie must be insidious indeed to make a man smile so, even as she's snuffing out his very life." "Exactly my point, James. Evil in the flesh! She MUST be stopped!" "I agree, Number One. Now, let me just examine our fallen comrade here for clues." Agent 009 lay on the shiny metal table, grinning in death. James examined him closely, finding every inch of his head, from his slickened hair to his sticky neck, covered in a dried, yellow-white, tacky substance. "Cum, sir," the morgue attendant said bluntly. "We've analyzed it. It's the she cat's sexual fluids, it is. They're all over his face and neck. It's even glued his eyes shut, it has. We had to pry the lids open to examine them. She's made a sticky mess out of the poor man's head! If not for her little note in his mouth, we'd probably have had to pry THAT open, as well. As it was, we had to pump out a tenth of a liter of it from his mouth before we could get to the note. A most disgusting process it was, I can tell you. She thought of everything, however, and left her cheeky little note in a baggie! A she devil, I tell you!" "I couldn't agree with you more, my good man," James noted coolly. Then, rubbing his chin he queried, "I can assume, then, that lack of oxygen was the cause of death?" "Yes, sir," the attendant replied, "though we can't tell yet if he choked on her cum or if he was simply smothered. We've yet to examine his lungs, though I'm dreading what we'll find there. A full autopsy is pending." "Smothered?" James asked, his right eyebrow raising again with piqued interest. "Yes, sir....um.....if you'll just read the note. We put it back into his mouth so you could see exactly how it was placed before we removed it initially. But we DID clean out the.....ah....fluids for you, sir." "Very gracious of you," James murmured as he leaned forward, snapping latex gloves over his hands, to open the smiling mouth. From inside it he pulled out the baggie with the enclosed note. Before he had completely removed it, however, he noticed something odd. There was an awful lot of room in that oral cavity, and it didn't seem right. Then James realized why there was so much room. The man's tongue was missing. He looked back at Number One. "Yes, James," Number One said, "it's just like all the others. That she devil has removed the tongue of every one of our agents she's killed. Read the note. If it's the same as all the others, the witch will explain why she does it. It'll make you shudder, I'm sure. James opened the baggie and then carefully unfolded the note. The paper was crisp and dry, well protected in the baggie. "Apparently, Holey Nightie went to great lengths to protect the note." "Yes," replied Number One, "she obviously wants us to know her sick reasons for what she does. Arrogant, that one." "Yes, I would tend to agree," James said as he finished opening the note. When it was fully opened, a tiny piece of red satin fell out from the folds, landing on Agent 009's pale, cold shoulder. "That's the other part of her m.o." said Number One. "Apparently, that's how she got her name. With each victim she seduces and ... neutralizes ... she tears off a piece of her nightie and sends it back with the deceased along with the note. I dare say the trollop's nightie must be getting pretty shabby by now. Very sick woman, that one." "Yes, obviously so," James replied, a chill dancing along his spine. But somehow the satin in his hand felt tantalizing. He rolled it around in his palm, feeling its softness, its sleekness. He imagined the rest of the nightie, and the alluring Holey Nightie wearing it. His pulse quickened. But then his spy's strength of will jarred him back to reality. His attention returned to the note. With angry but curious eyes he read every word. In neat, bold, hand printed block letters the note proclaimed: Dearest Number One, Surely, you can do better. Every agent you've sent to capture or kill me has been no match for my wiles. Nonetheless, I've given each of them the most ecstasy they've ever had in their lives...before I killed them, of course. Every agent I've returned to you was unable to stop smiling. I dare say that even your British morticians have been hard pressed to get rid of those smiles. Such is the joy and ecstasy of being amorous with the Holey Nightie. And should you be wondering exactly HOW your proud warriors succumbed to death, simply put two and two together. Their heads are covered with my own personal fluids. Does that give you a hint? If not, let me be blunt. All my lovers must please me orally before they can get any further with me. It's a hard and fast rule of mine. If they can't make me cum with their tongues, they can't have me any other way, either. Conversely, if they DO manage to please me orally, I will then allow them to satisfy me with other...parts of their bodies. I'm sure you can guess what I mean. I'm far too demure to discuss such things. When one of your top agents pleases me orally, I keep his tongue as a part of my growing collection. So far, every one of your agents - eleven so far, I believe, I do lose track - has been able to do so...hence, I have a rather large and varied collection at the moment. However, when given the opportunity to please me with their more "formidable" organs, they have all failed miserably. I think you need to train your agents in more than just oral expertise. I should like to collect more than just tongues, you know. But until you send an agent who can match me thrust for thrust, I shall simply have to cause their demises the old fashioned way...by sitting on their heads until they either suffocate or drown in my rather copious sexual juices. But please don't think me evil or cruel. As you have seen by the bodies I've returned to you so graciously , each and every one of them has enjoyed my "cruelty." As I said earlier, you'll be extremely hard pressed to remove those smiles, now won't you?! I do have that effect on men. In the future, should you send another agent to seduce and conquer me, won't you please send one who can fuck worth a damn? I'd truly appreciate it. I've plenty of tongues now, thank you. What I need now is a cock that can melt me and make me coo like a dove. Please do send only your best from now on, won't you? I've little time for the less skilled among your help. I generously thank you in advance for your anticipated cooperation in this matter. The Holey Nightie "That bitch!" Number One spat. "Now do you see why we've given you this assignment, James?" "Yessss....," James sighed, deep in thought, "I see why I'm the only possible choice to stop this madwoman. And, rest assured, Number One, stop her I shall. I will avenge my fallen comrades. You can count on that." "I'm sure you will..." Number One began, but then cut his words short as he saw James examining the body closely once more. He was bent over, peering intently at tiny, glimmering spots that dotted Agent 009's neck and shoulders, many of them not buried beneath sticky vaginal fluids. "What have you there, James?" Number One asked. "Insidious. It's flecks of molten gold." James looked ahead, eyes blank, deep in thought. "I can only guess at what that Hellion did with that gold. She's even more diabolically disturbed than I could've imagined. She MUST be stopped....at all costs!" "Exactly, James," Number One said, clenching his fist and gritting his teeth. "And I'm the only one who can stop her," James stated fiercely, his eyes hardening, smoldering, his mind churning ahead to his meeting with the Holey Nightie. "Yes, James, that's why we've finally come to you to take care of this...sticky matter." "Don't worry, Number One. Holey Nightie won't be suffocating any more of our agents under her sticky crotch. She's met her match, now. James Bondage is coming for you, Holey Nightie. You'd best be on your guard. You'll be panting your last happy breaths while squirming on MY formidable cock. YOU'LL be the one on a morgue slab smiling from ear to ear. Your day has come! This, James Bondage vows!" As James swaggered out of the morgue, Number One yelled to him, "Go get her, James! Fuck that arrogant bitch to death! Rip that sarcastic harlot in half!" Then, his chest heaving with indignation, he once again ran his agitated fingers through his few remaining wisps of graying hair. What he then muttered neither James nor the morgue attendant could hear. As the door to the morgue slammed shut behind James, the morgue attendant and Number One heard his final comment. "Oh, that I will, Number one. That I will." The flight was long and tiring, but James felt the need to hurry things along. Natasha Badenoff - alias the Holey Nightie - had snuffed out the futures of over a dozen of the agency's top field agents...all good men, several of them friends of James's. As if that weren't enough, she threw it arrogantly into their faces, speaking of the world's best operatives as if they were playthings for her to use for her pleasure then snuff out like mere bothersome insects. She'd even mutilated the bodies, removing the tongues from each, for what despicable purpose only she and Satan himself could know. It galled James. Not only did it ignite a deep loathing within him at the low esteem in which she held human life, but how callously and remorselessly the American vixen ended that life. It itched inside him like a rash on his very internal organs. But there was something more. Something about himself he didn't even like seemed to be coming to the surface. Somehow, the twisted words in that folded note sucked him into an unholy challenge. From what the most recent note - as well as the others that preceded it - said, Holey Nightie sat on her would be captors or assassins and either smothered them beneath her grinding sex organs or drowned them in her gushing fluids. Either way, her pleasure became their demise. And she'd scoffed at their sexual prowess, boldly stating that if any one of them had been a halfway decent lover, she'd have removed and collected more than just their tongues. James, in some unspeakably perverse way, took that as a challenge. He would not only prove to her that British agents were the best in the world at espionage, but in the sexual arena as well. He would break her. He would use his sexual knowledge and expertise to humble her and ultimately put her behind cold, steel bars. He knew he would. It would be his toughest challenge ever, but he would succeed. He MUST succeed! And so Britain's number one secret agent came to be in this tawdry, southern U.S. bar. Given the seedy name of "The Tasty Clam Lounge," it was by far the biggest moneymaker for the equally seedy hotel that harbored it: the "Roving Palms Hotel." The lounge - and the hotel itself, as well, James suspected - was obviously a den of thieves and hardened malcontents. Evil and debauchery lurked around every corner. James stared at his own reflection in the greasy mirror behind the even greasier looking bartender, but it didn't register on his mind. If it had, he'd have seen the two approaching gargantuans plod up behind him, their ogre faces looking unduly expectant. "This hotel belongs to Ms.Natasha Badenoff, mister. And I don't think she knows you. It might be in your best interest to walk on out of here right now, before we have to...assist you out." James looked up at the two hulking figures, neither appearing to have an IQ above fifty, but both looking deadlier than cyanide. Their arms and legs were tree trunks surrounding their rock hard barrel chests. They looked like they ate bellhops for breakfast and secret agents for dinner. James eyed them nonchalantly, not the least bit impressed, except by their icy but vacant stares and their slack-jawed mouth breathing. Typical enforcement goons. "Perhaps if Ms.Badenoff knew who I was, she'd be interested in meeting me. If I were you poor fellows, I wouldn't be so hasty about ... assisting me to do anything without checking with her first. If she knew who you were assisting out the door, she might have you both sauteed and served for tomorrow's main course. Maybe you should check with her first...just to keep your testicles in their usual locations? One can never be too cautious with a woman like Ms.Badenoff." The brute nearest him held one fist inside the other, cracking one set of knuckles in the squeezing palm of his other hand. He was itching to pummel James into so much steaming pudding. But, while dumber than a tumbleweed, some minuscule synapse in his brain fired just enough to realize that James just might be correct. At any rate, it apparently wasn't worth taking the risk. "And just who might you be, Mister Fancy Dan? Who should I tell Ms.Badenoff is interested in meeting her? Before I crush your puny bones into dust, that is." "My name is Bondage....James Bondage. Think you can get that right, my good....man?" The knuckle-cracking behemoth sneered. His nostrils flared. His eyes glinted with his desire to mangle James beyond recognition. But he kept himself under control, though his muzzle glowed an angry, meaty red. "Yeah, smart mouth, I think I can get it right. But I gotta tell ya, if Ms.Badenoff isn't interested in talking to ya....yer gonna wish you'd left when we asked ya to. Ain't that right, Bimbo?" The other cretinous monolith chuckled, showing two incomplete rows of amazingly yellow teeth. "Yeah, that's right, Samson. He'll be wishin' outta his ass when we're done with him." A gurgling chuckle followed, making James feel an urgent need to clear his throat. "Ahhh, how sweet," James said, "Now please....run along and fetch Ms.Badenoff, won't you? I think she'll be VERY willing to meet me. She might even give you some new chew toys to play with afterwards, as a nice reward." The two musclebound protectors seemed confused by the comment, which James figured was just as well. They turned almost in unison and shambled off around the bar to a side doorway covered by hanging lengths of clacking beads. They were gone quite some time, causing James to believe that possibly he was barking up the wrong tree. Even though Holey Nightie owned this hotel, it was possible she wasn't here herself, preferring to let some underling run it. If such was the case, his search would have to continue elsewhere. Holey Nightie: Golden Tongues Affair But it appeared he WAS in the right place after all, as his attention was wrested from his floating olive by the clacking beads of the nearby doorway. When he looked up, he saw a vision of class and beauty...a cold, icy beauty. It was a case of the beauty and the beasts as she stood in the doorway with her two puppydog guards flanking her, only their wagging tails missing from the picture. While she stood there coolly in her skin tight, low cut, mid calf length black evening dress, with matching elbow-length nylon gloves, she puffed on the end of a foot long ebony cigarette holder with a gold mouthpiece. Her hair was up in a reserved beehive with a deep red ruby pinned front and center. Her eyes were an icy blue, surrounded by a similar blue eyeshadow and ultra long black lashes. Her lips were a crimson that made the ruby envious. She puffed tar and nicotine into the air sensually, licking her lips and staring approvingly at James. He felt naked in her disrobing gaze. Despite his attempt to stay cool and calm, his genitals stirred. As she moved forward with an air of absolute confidence, her hips swiveled with ease and grace...sultry and seductive. Rounding the bar, it was revealed that she wore the sheerest of smoky hose, barely imparting a hue at all to the natural flesh tone of her calves. Her feet were cradled in backless, black, high heeled mules, the instep of each adorned with a round, white puff of feathers. Just ahead of those puffs, the seam of her hose could be seen clinging to the tips of her red painted toenails. Each step she took was accompanied by the quiet but distinct "clack clack clack" of her heels on the tiled floor. James returned the mental undressing favor, his eyes caressing the hourglass curves of her sides and hips. He could see the haughty nipples pointing at him, calling him to them...enticing him to a gasping doom. When she had glided succulently to within a few feet of him, James rose to greet her, prompting her two thugs to quickly thrust their oversized paws into their jackets. A wave of the woman's hand stopped them. "I don't think Mr.Bondage is here to do me any bodily harm, boys. Are you, Mr. Bondage?" She looked at James with a conceited smirk. She knew he was already falling under her spell. "Not at all, Ms. Badenoff. In fact, I was trying to explain to your pets that a chat between us two could be very interesting to both of us. I would never harm a lady...least of all one as delectable as yourself. Unless, of course, she were to try to...retire me early herself. And I'm sure an obviously classy woman like yourself would never even THINK of something so...unsavory." "Of course not, Mr. Bondage. Men of your high caliber are to be savored, enjoyed...not wasted. Where would be the fun in that?" Her smile wavered between wanton and deadly. As James stood there giving her his best seductive smile and lusty eye twinkle, Natasha circled around him, looking him up and down. He began to feel like a steak in a butcher's display case. He watched her disappear behind him to the left, then reappear from behind on his right. She was still eyeing him like a sizzling roast. "We have things we should talk about, Ms. Badenoff. I'm sure you know why I'm here." The words seemed to make the puppies tense. James could see them flinch, their hands moving ever so discreetly up toward their jackets again. "Of course I know why you're here. I know many things. I have not stayed rich and powerful by letting myself become unaware of those around me, Mr. Bondage." She stood directly in front of him, staring defiantly into his eyes. She puffed her cigarette and let the smoke waft gently from between her lips for several seconds. When she moved closer to James, the mild tobacco scent was replaced by a heady perfume. It made his head swim. His brain seemed to be filled with the scent of her. The room began to get hazy. When Natasha reached up and pulled his head toward her, kissing his lips gently with her slick, glossy ones, the room became suddenly dark... His surroundings slowly coalesced into view. His vision started out as a hazy kaleidoscope of blues and blacks, then mentally stinging explosions of reds and yellows. Painfully, objects began to take recognizable shape. James was in a boudoir...the boudoir of the world's deadliest assassin, arrogant killer of a dozen of the world's top spies. The blues and blacks, reds and yellows, melted away, replaced by warm, coherent light. Candles flickered everywhere. The scent of burning incense - something Oriental - filled the room. A bed slowly took shape before his eyes. Unfortunately, he was tied to it....naked. As his eyes stared at the ropes knotted around his bare ankles, his mind already working on a way to free himself, he saw movement beyond them. His retinas changed their focal point. His bound feet blurred and the object beyond them sharpened into crystal clarity. "Good evening, Mr. Bondage. Welcome back." Natasha Badenoff sat in a lavishly plush chair, almost as if she lounged on a great throne. She sat back in it, one arm on the chair arm and the other holding her cigarette holder off to one side, her lips puffing out a steady stream of smoke as they smiled wickedly. Gone was the black dress and the beehive hairdo. Missing were the long black gloves. Instead, Natasha had become her alter ego - the deadly siren, The Holey Nightie. The facial makeup was the same, though her midnight black hair now curled down below her shoulders...beautifully bare shoulders that looked as soft as cotton and as sweet as sugar. The only thing marring those lovely shoulders were the two slim straps that held up her evil namesake....her nightie. It was a red, satin nightie that seemed too sheer and light to have enough weight to hang down as it did. It seemed so gossamer that it should float in the air like a cloud. But hang it did, gliding down over the swell of her breasts, dropping limply over her smooth belly, and ending in a somewhat ragged hem just barely below her slim, waspish waist. It appeared pieces had been cut from that hip-hugging hem. Then, even in his groggy state, James realized where the tiny slivers of satin folded into the arrogant notes had come from. This was indeed a psychotic vixen! He would have to be careful indeed. Her long legs were crossed, showing one lush, creamy thigh to James's appreciative eyes. Halfway up that thigh, a red and black lace garter held up the sheer smoky hose he'd noted earlier. He could just see the tempting seam as it slid behind her thigh and calf on it's footward trek down her shapely leg. At the end of that kissable seam, Natasha's foot rocked forward and back, the feathery mule dangling from the tips of her nylon-covered toes. As he watched, she curled her toes downward, letting the slipper fall to the floor. It made no sound at all. Despite himself, James smiled. "I hope my perfume and lipstick haven't left you with any unpleasant aftereffects. I do try to use sedatives that don't do such things, but everyone reacts differently to them, as I'm sure you know." "Not at all. I'm a bit groggy, but coming 'round nicely," James replied honestly. He felt no ill effects from the knockout drugs. "Wonderful. Then we can have that talk you mentioned. But, unfortunately for you, I fear the outcome of our discussion won't be exactly as you'd hoped." "Well," he said, straining at his bonds, "we'll just have to see about that, now, won't we? After all, I HAVE been threatened before." "Ahhh, Mr.Bondage, I'm sure you have. But never by me. I know your weaknesses. I know ALL men's weaknesses. You might call me an exploiter of those weaknesses. No man can resist me if I don't want him to. You'll prove to be no different." "Again," James replied, "we'll have to see about that. I've exploited a few weaknesses in my time, as well." "Yes, I'm certain of that. But, please realize you're no longer speaking with Natasha Badenoff, mere club owner and millionaress. You now face the seductively deadly....Holey Nightie." She took one last long puff on her golden tip. The tip of the cigarette glowed, then dimmed. She placed the cigarette holder on an ashtray that looked more like an incense holder. The last few wisps of smoke wafted from it, dissipating before they'd gotten more than a few inches away. Then she puckered her lips and blew out smoke in a long, slow, erotic exhale. Her eyes became wicked, leering at her naked captive. Slowly, she uncrossed her legs, letting James's eyes feast on her gartered thigh and the gossamer nylon. When the stirring began between his legs she smiled and licked her glistening lips. With a quick flick of her ankle, she kicked off her second mule and stood up. Her swaying stride from the chair to the bed involved so much hip action that she nearly chortled her glee as James's eyes became captivated by the movement. He swallowed hard. Sweat beads formed on his forehead. Natasha ran her hands up and down her sides, from just below her ribcage to just below her hips, up and down, as she approached her bound captive. James hardly knew where to look...the proud, ample bosom; the sleek red nightie; the swaying hips; the shapely, nylon-hugged legs; the leering eyes; the lip-moistening tongue. With every new sight his eyes roamed to, his penis grew and hardened. Despite the danger, he wanted this woman more than he'd ever wanted a woman before. And he had to fight with every ounce of strength and spy savvy he had to keep from surrendering to her charms. The battle to keep his composure was pretty much nip and tuck. He realized with just a hint of worry that things could topple either way. He steeled himself, willing his libido to remain in check. The sultry vixen walked near to the side of the bed, each of her thighs on either side of James's bound hand. She purposely let one inner thigh graze his hand lightly. The fingers twitched as if his hand had been jolted with an electrical charge. But then they settled down, laying inert ever so lightly against that nyloned thigh. She left her thigh against his hand, smiling down at him. He made no effort to remove his hand from its grazing proximity to her thigh. It was a cat and mouse game. Would she move her thigh first, or would he attempt to caress it first? Or would he risk incurring her wrath by moving his hand away altogether, thus snubbing her silken thigh...and her touchy ego? It was a moot point. Natasha was untying her silky nightie, and James's eyes drilled forward, watching the crimson material part, gliding open with dreamlike slowness, revealing the breasts that had helped lead many a man to a suffocating doom. He found he could not take his eyes off the large, hardened nipples that seemed to reach out to him. He knew he had to have them at some point. But how...how could he manage this and still live to see another day? Natasha never gave him time to think about it. She was the Black Widow, luring her unsuspecting suitor to a deadly ecstasy. She knew that James was fighting, but she also knew he'd ultimately succumb...as had all the others. It was only a matter of time. And she herself would experience ecstasy as well. She could feel deep in her soul that this man would be her ultimate sexual experience. Too bad he'd have to die shortly thereafter. Such a waste. "You like my breasts, Mr. Bondage?" she cooed, tweaking her perked nipples with thumbs and forefingers. "I've seen nipples before, Ms. Badenoff, many times," he replied through clenched teeth, sweat dribbling from his forehead down to the hair behind his temples. "There's really no need to flatter yourself," he concluded, though his nostrils flared discreetly in an attempt to inhale the scent of her skin. "Ah, but mine are so much sweeter. Perhaps you need a small taste." She bent down low, holding her open nightie to the sides. Her right breast dangled tantalizingly just above his mouth. James made no move to turn his head aside, nor even to avert his eyes. Natasha saw this and lowered herself still further, letting the tip of her nipple glide along between his closed lips....back and forth, over and over, just barely grazing them. Sweat was forming on James's neck and chin now, in addition to the fairly steady stream trickling down from his forehead. "Isn't that sweet, Mr.Bondage? Have you ever tasted its like before?" She was sneering at him now, assured of his entrapment in her web of seduction. James dared not speak. If he had, that nipple would've rushed eagerly into his mouth, and his instincts as one of the world's most renowned lovers would've taken over. He'd have sucked that nipple like a babe, thereby surely sealing his fate. Natasha was not one to accept defeat...of any kind. She stood up, but only long enough to climb onto the bed. Once on the bed, she immediately straddled James's abdomen, her knees just above his hips on the soft mattress. Again holding her nightie spread wide, she arced forward, her prodigious mams again over James's face. Grinning wickedly, she shook her upper body from side to side, jiggling that tempting chest above his dilating pupils. James began biting his lower lip, trying to avert his mind and libido from their current avenues of thought. It wasn't helping much. Swooping suddenly, Natasha then brought her lush bosom down directly onto James's face, burying it in its deep cleavage. Sighs began to escape unbidden from his mouth as she rubbed her breasts all over his face. She even used her hands to help push those glorious globes over every inch of it, from his forehead down to his chin. She buried his face deeper with every movement. Then she'd pull back just enough to push her nipples into his eyes and mouth, laughing with glee as he fought with all the resistance he could muster. And all the while she taunted him, telling him that if he wasn't a British spy he could be fondling and kissing and licking and sucking her breasts for her...for hours on end if he wished. She told him in great detail exactly how she enjoyed having them attended to, as she mashed his face with them again and again. James, realizing he hadn't come up with an escape plan yet, wondered if this was how Holey Nightie was going to kill him...smothering the life from him with her evil tits. But then he remembered. That's not her modus operandi. THAT was even more insidious and darkly evil. Even as he feared its coming, somewhere deep inside him there was a hint of expectation. He somehow longed to feast on the core of this wicked woman. Not just for the pleasure itself, but for the challenge laid out by the twisted Holey Nightie in her arrogant note. He knew he could please her with his tongue. No woman had ever been able to resist that. That would be easy. And once he got past THAT, it would be business as usual showing her his sexual prowess with the mighty tool between his now naked thighs. He just needed to keep himself calm throughout, until he could gain the upper hand. Once that was accomplished, Holey Nightie's reign of terror would be at an end...forever. Other agents were given a license to kill by their governments. But he was given a different license...a much more deadly license. One that could vanquish a female opponent even if he became unarmed. For this agent, the world famous James Bondage, was given a license to FUCK. And that was more deadly than ANY weapon. And at that precise instant was when James formulated his plan. He would defeat the femme fatale, Holey Nightie, at her own game. She killed men with sex. He would turn the tables. She who lived by the sword, would die by it. Having made the plan, he now acted upon it. Pretending to give in completely to Natasha's charms, James opened his mouth and began sucking her breasts voraciously, grunting his passion. His mouth sought and found her nipples repeatedly, sucking hard and long. Natasha squealed with glee. She let him savor them madly, thinking she'd finally weakened his resolve and suckered him into her deadly death-by-sex scenario. "Oh, yes, James....feast on my succulent breasts. Lap and suckle them as you please. Feast, my magnificent lover!" Natasha pushed her taut nipples into his mouth over and over again, rubbed her chest all over his face and neck, smothered him in her cleavage. Until, that is, she felt he'd been sufficiently lured, adequately enticed. Then it was time to move her plan along. "You seem so hungry, James. Perhaps my breasts aren't enough to satisfy your hunger. Maybe there's something more you need to taste? Something sweeter, more...filling?" She sat up a bit to allow him to speak. She also wanted to see his besotted face. "No," James replied shrewdly, "I'm perfectly happy devouring your exquisite mammaries, my dear. Please, do continue smothering my face with them. Unless, of course, you'd like to feel why so many women are eager to have me unzip my pants. What I have waiting for you down there is AT LEAST as impressive as your evil boobs." "Now, now, James, I'm sure you've read my little notes on the...gentlemen...I've returned to your government. I'm sure you know my rules. No man gets his cock anywhere near me unless he can first please me with his tongue. And I don't mean just licking my tits, sir." "But I'm so enjoying your wonderful....." he began. His words were snuffed out by the soft folds of Natasha's moist flower. In the few seconds it took to spell out her rules to the bound spy, the wicked Holey Nightie had engaged in phase one of her master plan of death. Removing her chest completely from the vicinity of James's all too willing lips, she'd quickly whirled around to face his legs, straddled him again, and sat squarely on his gasping mouth. One moment James was about to assure her of his willingness to keep sucking her breasts, and the next instant the room was silent...his words cut off by a dripping, but sinister, pussy. The suddenness of it made his eyes fly open wide, but all they could dimly see was the crack of a very shapely ass...as it slammed down unceremoniously onto his startled face. Apparently, Holey Nightie wore her trademark nightie, and some succulent stockings, but had no need for undies. James was not shocked by that. Very pleased, yes....but shocked, no. Natasha squirmed around a bit on his face, playing with him. She so loved the feel of a man's panting breath on her naked pussy. She adored the feeling of power she got from crushing his face under her weight. She LIVED to grind her sex into a man's face, letting him know she could suffocate him at any moment if he failed to please her. And this time was no different. "Now, my handsome spy, here's the deal. As my notes have stated, you are charged with the task of pleasing me with your tongue. I'll give you plenty of time, but if you fail to ultimately satisfy me, I'll put the full weight of my pussy and ass on your nose and mouth until you gasp your last breath. I shall feel no remorse in this, so don't hold out any hope for that. However, if you do please me, and you continue to lap energetically enough to avoid drowning in my rather copious juices, I'll allow you to try to further please me with that rather fine looking cock you seem so proud of. Now, don't bother to agree or disagree with my terms. You see, you have no choice. I can smother you now, or you can try to lick your way to freedom...and possibly more delicious pleasures to come. Let's begin, shall we? You may start licking at any time. In fact, I rather recommend it." With that she plopped her crotch solidly onto James's mouth. When he didn't lick right off, she leaned back slightly and brought her legs up, putting her feet on his upper thighs. Her full weight crushed down on his face. He squirmed beneath her for a bit, but still refused to lick. An obvious show of stubborn pride. Then, slowly at first, Natasha felt the warm wet, desperate laps begin. She removed her feet from his thighs so as to take some of her weight off his face, allowing him to lick with more accuracy, and more effect. She hunkered down, resting her head beside James's swollen, throbbing, foot long cock, and let him perform his oral servicing of her slit. How well he did would determine - as always - whether he lived or died. Somehow, she knew he would please her, and survive to attempt further pleasuring of her body. She also knew that this would end up being one incredible night. No matter what, however - and sadly so - James would more than likely breathe his last. It could end no other way. But for now, she simply lay atop him, feeling a very talented, hard working mouth between her legs. She smiled as it raced to please her...and to keep its owner alive. Natasha rode James's face as if she were trying to tame a bucking bronco, and was not willing in the slightest to be shaken from her perch. Clad only in her namesake nightie and sheer, gossamer, thigh high nylons, she bounced and squirmed and wriggled all over his lapping tongue. She reveled in the power that coursed through her, sitting on the face of England's number one super spy, the world famous James Bondage, her grinding crotch all that stood between him and a slow, suffocating death. That alone was easily as much of a turn on as his desperately probing tongue. Holey Nightie: Golden Tongues Affair As her eyes began rolling upward in her head and her tongue licked her lush, red lips, Natasha reached beside the bed for another of her gold-tipped cigarette holders - with a waiting cigarette already nestled in its ebony embrace - and one of her many phallus-shaped lighters. When she leaned to her right to retrieve them, James's diaphragm hungrily sucked in a huge lung-filling gasp of air. But he'd become enamored of her dripping sex - despite its lethal reputation -and leaned to his right to get his tongue right back into that sweet flower. He needn't have done so, however, as the greedy Holey Nightie immediately sat back down on his head, once again instantly snuffing out both light and oxygen. A tiny flame leapt from the opening at the tip of the miniature penis. The end of the cigarette glowed brightly, then settled to an even burn. Natasha puffed deeply on the golden mouthpiece, reinvigorating the glowing embers. She sighed, squirming and puffing. With ecstasy fluttering her eyelids, she watched the tip of her cigarette glow yellow and orange, then dim between puffs, relishing the repeated cycle as she bounced atop James's burrowing face. She nearly choked on the smoke still in her mouth and throat as his searching tongue seemed to bore so deeply into her that she could feel its tip wiggling just behind her navel. The shudder that started down there between her head-squeezing thighs traveled upward at warp speed, rocking her for a moment. Despite her rather bawdy history with the most talented lovers in the world, she'd never felt a tongue drill so deeply inside her. With her brain reeling, she tried to gauge its length, but ultimately gave up because her mind had completely fogged over. She could only bite her lower lip and marvel at its persistence and power...and its almost maniacally perpetual movement. That was enough. Feeling shock wave after shock wave radiating in every direction from her pussy, Natasha gasped and squirmed atop James's face. Throughout, she maintained enough composure to puff on the shiny gold tip of her cigarette holder, panting the smoke back out her mouth and nose in staggered gasps. For a very long time she rocked there, puffing and gasping, squirming and squealing, enjoying the oral attentions of the famous 0011-1/2. Suddenly, her safe, secure world atop a very satisfying mouth was shattered. With a sudden surge of strength, James ripped his hands up and forward, yanking with all his might. His intention was to tear free of his bonds, but they held firm. The bed posts, however, did not. With a cracking and splintering of wood, those sturdy posts suddenly tore in half. And though his hands remained tied to them with thick lengths of rope, they were still free to grasp the nightie-clad she demon by her grinding hips and topple her forward onto her cigarette-puffing face. Thrown forward unexpectedly, Natasha's eyes grew round with surprise. Her jaw dropped, allowing the ebony cigarette holder to slip from her mouth and sail several feet to the side of the bed. With no sucking lips to keep it alive, the cigarette slowly burned out on the white tiled floor. James sat up quickly, further shoving Natasha's face into the mattress. His ankles still being tied securely to the foot posts, he knew he could not escape immediately, and further misdirection would be needed before a complete escape could be accomplished. So, while a surprised and angry Holey Nightie thrashed about, trying to recover her balance and regain the upper hand, James went right back to work with his tongue. He knew it was the only way to weaken her resolve and keep her from fighting back. Lifting Natasha by placing his hands firmly on the insides of her thighs, he held her dripping posterior aloft in front of him. He held her high enough so that he could look directly forward into that treacherous slit below her comely, though equally deadly, ass. He licked his lips once...and dove back into the feast. Natasha, momentarily startled, had begun to fight back. She was just in the process of twisting around to give James a savage kick in the neck when he lunged forward and began sucking on her still dripping treat. Her foot stopped in mid kick, suddenly jerking spastically. Her leg seemed to turn into rubber, losing its will to send that foot ramming into James's unprotected throat. Instead, she cooed like a dove when he reinserted his tongue deep into her molten center. Her body began to shudder with waves of ecstasy again, and her retaliatory assault on James's personage was, for the time being, forgotten. Holding her firmly in his hands, the heavy bedposts still dangling from the ropes attached to his wrists, James lapped her with his best oral techniques. He knew exactly where and when to lick, what to suck and tease with his tongue, how deeply to penetrate her, and exactly when to attack her clitoris. It was all in the super spy handbook. And it was apparently very well researched, because every single lick had positive results, every nip at her clit had her squirming and shuddering in his hands. The squirming, licking, slurping and clit-nibbling seemed to last forever. James's face became a slick canvas on which Natasha painted freely with her juices. But as copious as those liquids were, they were nothing compared to what was to follow. For, with a load moan and a tensing of every muscle in her sweating body, the evil Holey Nightie let loose her orgasmic flood. In less than a heartbeat from the time Natasha came, drenching the astonished James with her vaginal gushing, he suddenly realized how so many agents could've succumbed to that deadly deluge. If he hadn't had such a firm grip on her hips, her orgasm would've knocked him backward, such was the fury of that liquid onslaught. But he held his ground, as only the most well-trained, disciplined spy could. Soon, however, he realized that discretion was the better part of valor, and his survival would be dictated by how quickly he could evade the drowning rush of fluids. Natasha, however, had other plans. Aware that James was off-balance, she thrust her hips backward, trying to regain her seated position upon his head. She managed to get her thighs back around his head, cupping his ears with the silky nylons, and push him back almost to a supine position. But he was too quick for her. Gasping for air, coughing up Natasha's juices, James again lunged forward. The sudden forward movement, reversing the hard fought for backward momentum, again put her off balance, and she again careened forward onto her face. Even so, she continued to climax, great streams of milky cum still cascading from her like an endlessly spurting geyser. This impressed James no end. He marveled at it, even as he fought for his life. Tossing her again onto her face on the mattress, James tried desperately to gain enough leverage this time to get up on his knees. But, alas, his ankles were still tied securely. Then, desperate strength surged through him. His plan was nearing fruition, and bound ankles would NOT stand in the way of his ultimate victory! He became a blur of well-oiled, precise action. He played with her pussy with one hand, fingers tweaking her clit, as the other hand deftly untied one rope-burned ankle. Then he switched hands, repeating the untying process on his other ankle. While Natasha knew something was afoot, she could do nothing as long as James's diddling fingers kept her juices flowing. James was so proud of his cleverness that he even briefly licked her slit during the entire ploy, laughing openly into her still contracting vaginal muscles. Just as he finished untying the last knot, he captured her clit between his teeth and nibbled it. He had to dodge quickly to avoid both her twitching thighs and her reinvigorated vaginal eruptions. Now mostly free of his bonds - except for the dangling bedposts tied to his busy wrists - James braced himself behind her. Trying to keep those annoying posts out of the way, he was finally able to get up on his knees behind the fuming, but climaxing, Holey Nightie. Grinning triumphantly, he lifted up his fully engorged penis in a determined fist, aimed it squarely at evildoer cooz, and thrust it into the angry hellion, feeling incredible warmth as it sloshed between her gushing lips. Natasha, only seconds before a writhing, snarling hellcat, immediately lost the will to resist. James grinned, slamming himself repeatedly into her, shoving his foot long cock as far as it would go, over and over again. The instantly tamed Holey Nightie became a purring pussycat, moaning and panting into the bedspread as her face hopped up and down on the bouncing mattress. Both international super spy and insidious super assassin sighed as the humping began in earnest. "Now, Ms.Nightie," James sneered, "I've given you your precious, cum-inducing tongue-lapping, so next I'm going to show you why I've been given a license to fuck! You'll learn how even a vixen like you can be tamed by the right penis. Soon you'll see that a righteous cock will ALWAYS vanquish an evil pussy!" It certainly seemed as if James was right. Natasha made no attempt whatsoever to stop him. She lay there on her face, ass in the air, as he humped her senseless. The most she could do was moan and drool. Her eyes couldn't search the room for weapons or a means of turning the tables...because they were too busy rolled up in her head, watching the kaleidoscope of pretty colors twinkling in her brain. James could feel the tide turning. He not only had the upper hand, but he knew Natasha could do nothing to stop him. She was totally under his power, tamed by his world renowned cock. So, he became inventive, playing with her, using her like a common slut. Quite a comedown for the famous assassin. James was becoming as sexually stimulated with his penile power over her as she had become earlier when she'd brazenly attempted to ride his face into the distant sunset. James lifted one of Natasha's legs up over his shoulder, twisting her sideways roughly. Then, one leg trapped beneath his thighs and the other up on his shoulder, he fucked her from this new, sidesaddle position. She did nothing to stop him, only sighing when he completed the move and began to ravage her sex yet again. He felt more and more sexual power charging through him as he continued to have his way with her. With a twisted laugh he flipped her onto her back, pinning her legs up over her head. Leaning heavily on the backs of her thighs with his full upper body weight, he then thrust open her nightie and fondled her breasts at will as he soundly fucked her. Then, spreading her legs wide, he sucked those tempting nipples again, this time to his OWN tune. As he gripped one nipple between his teeth and tugged on it, stretching it gleefully, he came inside her steaming cavern. With a loud moan and earsplitting scream, she did likewise, once again gushing profusely. He rode her that way, slapping her ass hard and repeatedly with his flattened palm, yelling "Giddyup, Holey Nightie!," and "Good horsey!," until he'd temporarily emptied his loins. But the surge of power he felt was quickly refilling his sack. Sexually abusing this once haughty, deadly vixen so easily was exhilarating in the extreme. So much so that as soon as he spurted his pleasure into her, he'd instantly hardened again, ready to humble and plunder her again...and again...and again. And he didn't want to give her time to recover, either, so he continued his assault on her private parts, giving her no time to breathe, keeping her cumming and cumming. He'd found the way to defeat this wicked harlot once and for all. Her end - no pun intended, he grinned to himself - was near! Throwing her legs wider still to her sides, he suddenly yanked his dripping rod from her still dribbling slit and quickly leaped between them, straddling her abdomen. Holding her shoulders down with his strong hands, he slid himself forward, scooting himself up her body until he reached her heaving chest. He sat on her with his full weight, delighting in the sudden "whoof" of rushing air that escaped her lungs. He knew if he was to subdue her completely with sex, he couldn't give her even a single second to recover her wits. Following his plan to the letter, he would give her little or no time between orgasms. He would beat this scheming she demon at her own game. Grabbing one lush breast in each hand he spread them slightly. He then slid his still firm, thick cock between them, filling her cleavage with his throbbing secret agent woody. Squeezing those warm globes back together again, he moved his hips forward and back, giving his rod a delicious boob job. His primed penis thrust up and down between the deadliest tits in the spy game, and he enjoyed every second of it. Squeezing Natasha's succulent breasts, he continued his exhilarating tit-fuck, his hips moving faster and faster as he neared still another orgasm. Natasha could only watch helplessly as the engorged helmet poked toward her face over and over again from the top of her cleavage. It looked amusingly like a prairie dog on speed, constantly poking its head from its hole to see the world outside. But this "prairie dog" was succulently loaded with sweet, sticky cream. James's orgasm was glorious. It sprayed from between her rippling mammaries in a spurting torrent of sticky white milk. The first few volleys sailed over Natasha's head, but as the ejaculations weakened the hot semen streaked and spattered her face. Burst after burst anointed her lovely features, dabbling her forehead, cheeks, lips and chin with shiny pearldrops of dew. When she hungrily lapped at those nearest her mouth, James felt a flush of pride. Seeing how badly she wanted to taste him, he aimed his remaining bursts directly at her mouth. And the biggest source of pride for him in this decidedly deadly affair was the simple fact that she was coming again...slurping hungrily at the sticky drops of his sweet cream. To think, the sinister Holey Nightie was having an orgasm just from lapping up his cum! Oh, such a telling triumph of good over evil! Her hunger for his semen got his mind - and libido - cranking again. A wicked smile crossed his lips. He leered down at the tamed she-cat. If she was that hungry for his milk, he thought, he'd be happy to give her still more. If there was one thing James was always generous to a fault with, it was his superspy semen! Slipping his cock from the warmth of her cleavage, James again sprinted forward. He now straddled her head, his dripping rod hovering over her face as she'd hovered her tits over his earlier. His grin widened. Holding his pride and joy in one hand, he squeezed out the remaining juices from it, letting the sticky white fluid dribble down into her hungry mouth. She opened wide, sticking out her tongue. James watched with glee as the opaque liquid slowly landed onto her soft, pink tongue, sliding back along the center of it, seeking the warmth of the throat behind it. But he again had a plan. Before Natasha could close her mouth to savor her liquid meal, he quickly aimed his cock downward, thrusting it savagely into her mouth. The look of surprise on her face was priceless. He was instantly hard as a rock. The picture before him - the feared and deadly Holey Nightie wide eyed with his cock shoved deep down her wicked throat - was something he wanted to remember forever. It was a shame he was totally naked, or he'd have taken a photo with his tie clasp, or the even tinier camera in his pants zipper. But he would have to settle for the delicious image embedded on his memory cells. He felt such power....mouth fucking the deadliest she-spy of all time. It got him hornier than he'd ever been in his life. Now it was HIS turn to ride HER face! And ride it he did! In and out went his pulsating cock into her wide stretched mouth. Even though he'd just come, he was so turned on he was harder and more ready to burst than at any time during this wonderful revenge fuck. He felt more giddily invigorated with each depraved, debasing act he perpetrated on this evil whore! "This is for 002!" he screamed as he thrust into her mouth. "And this for 003!....005!....008!.....009!" He huffed as his hips slammed downward. "We'll see who chokes on cum now, won't we, witch?!" Teeth clenched with his straining effort, James humped her mouth long and hard, holding her arms down so she couldn't throw him off. But, then, it didn't appear she wanted to. Why should she? A quick glance down between her stockinged legs proved enlightening. She apparently enjoyed this oral ordeal...for she was cumming buckets onto the drenched bedspread. A surge of anger welled up in James at the sight. He felt the need to belittle her, put her in her place, take away the power and pleasure of her orgasm. It was no fun to humiliate her if she ENJOYED it! "How's it feel to squirm around under someone's genitals? How's it feel to not know if you're going to suffocate or drown in cum? What's that, Holey Nightie....I can't hear you? Don't want to talk with your mouth full?" James ranted at her, fucking her mouth as if he was taking on the entire Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. His orgasm was nothing short of cosmic. His fat penis fit so tightly in her mouth that when he ejaculated into it not a single drop squeezed out. He thought sure she'd choke on the unending flood. But she didn't. In fact, her eyes bored into his coolly as she swallowed rapidly. Her neck muscles seemed to move effortlessly, pulling the copious liquids down her gullet and into her stomach. She simply swallowed and swallowed, and slowly began to glare up at him defiantly. She even caught his thrusting ass cheeks in a grip of steel, digging her fingers deeply into their firm flesh and pulling him to her as if to say, "C'mon, James, give me all you've got. Do your best to DROWN me in your cum!" That defiant look became more evil by the second. Confused, James started thrusting into her mouth more fiercely, even though he was becoming drained. He still thrived on the sight of fucking her mouth. Maybe, with luck, she'd still suffocate, or chock on his cum. He would not give up. A good spy NEVER surrenders. He would fuck her mouth for as long as it took to subdue the evil witch, no matter how much effort it took...no matter how grueling the task! Eventually, however, he became exhausted. His hips lost the power to thrust anymore. His testicles felt like shriveled up raisins. His arms and legs weakened. He gritted his teeth and tried to continue, but his muscles began to spasm. He was gasping for air, while Holey Nightie, her mouth still filled with the majority of his fattened cock, seemed to breathe easily. While James tired, she seemed fresh and strong. She sucked him hard and licked his tiny, spurting slit, teasing...daring him to come some more. Her eyes taunted him, jeered at him. Still James would not give up. With a last surge of energy, he yanked his penis from her cum-filled mouth. With what little strength he had remaining to him, he grabbed her by the waist and tossed her off the bed onto the white rug on the floor beside it. Before she could recover and counterattack, he pounced on her, again pinning her with her face down and ass up. And it was that ass he targeted this time....his final insult to her. Again pressing down on her with his full weight, he shoved his cum-and-saliva-slickened rod into her pouting sphincter. Oh, how he relished seeing her squirming with indignation at this violation. Such pleasure in anally invading the great Holey Nightie. Such a wonderfully delicious insult! Surely, this final degradation would break her spirit, snuff out her indomitable will! "How do you like THIS, murderess?! How does it feel to finally be put in your place? The sinister Holey Nightie fucked in the ass! Isn't it delicious? Aren't you just so proud and haughty now? Laugh NOW, you conceited witch, with my unstoppable cock pounding your evil ass! Suffer the indignity of a sound ass-ravaging, you killer of proud men!" Holey Nightie: Golden Tongues Affair James humped her bottom as if it meant the difference between life and death; as if by ramming her hole sufficiently, he could bring back all his fallen comrades with this single act of belittlement. Every thrust was so forceful that as he drilled her backside the rug they were on slid inch by inch across the room. James was beside himself with twisted glee. How humbling for the Holey Nightie. After tonight, she would know her place. She would be just another incarcerated spy, broken and humiliated by the best spy ever born...James Bondage! Her reign of terror was finally at an end! But, alas, twenty minutes into her ass pounding, James was again disappointed. Instead of being degraded and embarrassed, Natasha was sighing and moaning, her body twitching and heaving. James felt a warm gush of fluids bathing his thighs. Holey Nightie was having yet another orgasm! And while he himself was wasted, worn ragged from this four hour long hump-fest, she seemed full of energy and enjoying herself immensely! She bucked backward against his invading tool, squealing with unbridled pleasure. "Oh, yes, James!" she screamed, her face flushed with passion. Gasps and moans burst continually from between her drooling lips. "I've been...such a very...naughty girl! Oh, yes...I have! So bad...so evil...despicable even! I need to be...punished for...my sins! Punish me! I'm so....soooooo evil! Such a bad...BAD Nightie! Fuck me! Spank me! Punish me...so, soooooo good! Oh, yes, James! Oh, yes! YES! Fuck me, spy boy! Fuck naughty Nightie ...so hard....so deeeeep! Oh, yes! More! More! Harder! Deeper! Shove those... secret agent...balls...right...INSIDE ME! OH! OH! OHHHHHHH! Yes...yes....YESSSSSSSS!!" The final indignity belonged to James himself. For some perverse reason, those twisted words inflamed his desire, and he again shot his secret agent wad into her. Grunting his passion, he filled yet another of her orifices with his seed. Against his dwindling will, he enjoyed it. His plan to humble the world's number one female assassin had backfired, and he felt dirty...used. He despised every groin-tugging spurt that filled her wicked bum! When Natasha finally slumped happily to the crumpled rug beneath them, James slipped from her tight opening and rolled dejectedly onto his side. He was the world's best fuck...but Holey Nightie had taken all he could give and thrown it right back into his face. He'd failed his fallen comrades. He could still deliver her into the hands of justice, but his pride had taken a hit. She had bested his libido. Everything he could dish out she took in stride, having an orgasm every time. Yes, it made him feel great as a lover, but as a secret agent bringing a criminal to her knees? No, he'd failed....miserably. Natasha couldn't help but agree...totally. In fact, as James lay there in his shame, he made no move to capture her at all. His mind was too busy chastising itself to see what was coming. But when he rolled onto his back to stare unbelievingly at the ceiling, THAT was his final undoing. As he lay there, chest heaving, mind trying slowly to accept the reality of the situation - that he'd been USED by this remorseless vixen purely for the sake of sex - suddenly a smiling face appeared upside-down in his field of vision. Holey Nightie, grinning malevolently, glared down at him. Her eyes conveyed deep satisfaction, and more than a hint of pity. "That, Mr. Bondage, was the most delicious fuck I've ever had. I guess England has a few good agents after all, eh? You were a simply delightful lay, I must say." Her hair was a mess, her eyeshadow trickled down her face, her lipstick had smeared all over her mouth, and sweat - and other liquids - dripped from her chin, but she smiled the smile of a truly satisfied woman. But that smile was still as evil as her hardened eyes. "And now, Mr. Bondage, while I thank you for an immensely pleasurable day, I'm afraid it's time for you to say good-bye. I'm sure we could make wonderful music together for a long, long time, but you could never work my side of the tracks, and I could never work yours. So, sadly, this must be farewell. But take with you the fact that I've finally found my match, sexually, in you, kind sir. And in honor of your supremely satisfying efforts here with me today, I am going into retirement. So, that cock that you're so in love with has indeed saved the world. I'll be going into hiding...and I won't be killing any more of your fellow agents. Unless one should somehow find me again, of course. I do have to protect myself. But you will be the pride of my collection. I know I could never top the fun I've had with you, so it all ends here. That should be something rewarding to take to your grave with you. I owe you that much. So, sleep well, James. And thank you for a most wonderful diversion." With that she kissed him gently on the lips....a kiss of death. Still exhausted and dejected, James reacted much too slowly to the danger. With the speed of a python, Holey Nightie mounted his head again, crashing her drenched sex down onto his face for the final time. James's hands shot up, trying to dislodge her, but they were far too slow. The weight of the still attached bed posts combined with his own exhausted state, seemed too much to overcome. Reaching down, Natahsa - alias the deadly Holey Nightie - grabbed his semi-flaccid member and yanked hard on it. James screamed in agony, the cry depleting every last molecule of oxygen from his already straining lungs. At the apex of the scream, Holey Nightie crushed his head under her full weight. James struggled valiantly. But Holey Nightie had wrapped her legs around his in such a way that he could get no leverage. His flailing hands she placed on her breasts, and James's male instincts set them to fondling the soft, warm flesh. Such an insidious means of misdirection. He fondled her tits and pinched her nipples even as he gasped his last breath. Natasha's crotch and bottom prevented any more air from entering his lungs, and he slowly drifted away. Though his persistent fingers had held tightly to her nipples - stubbornly refusing to relinquish their precious cargo - to the very last second, those two boob-fondling hands finally fell weakly to his sides. There was no more squirming beneath her sex. His body went limp. The twitching stopped. James Bondage, the world's number one spy - had succumbed to the devious and unholy Holey Nightie, as had so many others. But, even in death, he had accomplished his mission. There would be no more spies...negated, by this evil woman. ****************************************** Two days later, James's body arrived at HQ. It was the same as all the others. When Number One sadly trudged to the morgue, he was devastated to see his best agent laid out like that. So pale, so lifeless...yet grinning from ear to ear - a smile that nearly split his face in two. It was unnerving. As with the others, his tongue was gone, and his neck and shoulders were speckled with gold. A baggie-wrapped note, with a small piece of red satin folded inside it, was in his mouth. The block letters crawled into Number One's spine and ignited his brain with the fires of indignation. It read: My dear, wonderful, generous Number One, I must thank you for this wonderful man. He was by far the best agent you had. He was simply a delight to have "relations" with. I would ask you to send more like him, but sadly, I have decided to go into retirement. The Holey Nightie is no more. Mr. Bondage has the last strip of my nightie that I will be parting with. My nightie will henceforth be hung up for good. But oh, what a wonderful last fling you've sent me off with! In return for the shard of my nightie - the last such shard to be doled out to a deserving EX-agent - I have kept something of Mr. Bondage's for myself. Besides his wonderful tongue, I mean. It seems Mr. Bondage had more wonderful "parts" than just his lovely tongue. Please forgive me my greed in keeping it for myself. But, if I'm going into retirement, I'm going to need something to keep me smiling...and what I've taken from him should do nicely. It's a small price to pay for my willingness to retire, no? Thank you again, and please don't try to find me. You wouldn't want Holey Nightie to come out of retirement, now, would you? Yours truly, A very satisfied...and eternally grateful Holey Nightie. When the morgue attendant lifted the sheet, Number One saw with horror what her "payment" was for getting out of the spy business. Gasping loudly, he realized that Holey Nightie had taken more than James's tongue for her sick collection. She'd altered her m.o. and taken a second prize from the man with the license to fuck. Number One would never be able to get the chill out of his bones... *********************************************** Back in her bedroom, Natasha strolled happily to her "collection" closet. She opened the double doors and smiled at her trophies. She touched each golden tongue lovingly, moving from the very first she'd collected years ago, to the most recent, barely forty-eight hours old. Caressing the last, she sighed, "Oh, James, if only you weren't such a goody-two-shoes. We could've made such earth-shattering love together, for all time." She leaned forward and kissed the tip of the golden tongue, smiling wistfully. "Such a talented tongue," she said, running her fingertips along it's golden smooth edges. Then, with a deep sigh, she closed the door and locked it securely. Walking to her bedstand, sitting on her brand new bed, she smiled a decadent smile. Her newest trophy, a trophy of a new and different kind, sat atop its mahogany base, nestled between the metal bands that held it in place in an upright position. The shining, golden penis, a stout twelve inches long, rose regally above the bloated sack at its base. The detail from sack to tip was astonishing. It had looked exactly the same when it was plummeting deeply into her mouth. She remembered every vein and tiny ripple of muscle, the shape of the head, the size of the tiny slit. Just seeing it again evoked memories of how it felt, how it tasted, even how it smelled. But it was much easier to focus on it in this state, free of the constant, blurring movement. Smiling happily, she made a mental note to give her personal goldsmith a substantial bonus for his masterful work in generously plating the prodigious pecker without obliterating a single juicy detail. Natasha lifted the golden erection gently from its base, fondling it lovingly. She rubbed it on her cheeks, kissing and nuzzling it, sighing at the memories it evoked. Then she reached over and turned out her bedside lamp. She snuggled deeply under the covers, still fondling the shining schlong. She slid it slowly down her body, rubbing the tip of the head around and around her nipples, along her belly, down between her legs. In the darkness, she held the golden phallus firmly and guided the head along her wet slit. Slowly, she pushed it in deeper, one millimeter at a time. Grasping it by the shiny testicles, she then rammed it roughly into her steaming core, pushing it in as deep as it would go. As she thrust it in and out, in and out, over and over, her lips curled into an ecstatic smile. She drooled and writhed under the covers. Gasping, remembering, fantasizing, she became lost in pleasuring herself with the toy that would be hers forever. It would be the one thing that kept her from resuming her career as the Holey Nightie, so it would have to please her constantly, thoroughly. And she had no doubts that it would. Yes, it would do its former owner proud. She'd see to that. Her mind melted. Deep inside herself she thrust the golden member. Her eyes fluttered shut as she squirmed around the long, hard cock. She licked her lips and moaned her pleasure. "Ohhhhhhhh, Jaaaaaames," she sighed, "I've been such a bad girl. Punish evil Nightie sooooo goooood. Ohhhhhh.....yes, James, yessssssss..." Her orgasms began shortly thereafter...and continued long into the starless night. END "Holey Nightie - The Golden Tongues Affair" copyright Bacomicfan/Mike, 2003