Agent Valentina: Mission 01bysexualrelief7191©
"I've been thinking about writing this series for quite a while now. Of course, with college, work, and finishing Taylar's Awakening, I decided to wait until something really struck me with this. Well, that wait is over. My next series: an ex-secret agent, who turns to taking any pervy assignment she is given...any. Also, check out my new twitter page. I'll be making frequent updates and post about my stories and such. The address for my page is on my Literotica profile. Please comment, rate and follow me on twitter. Thanks for the reads and support!"
The relief that hit me walking into my apartment was like a heavy weight being taken off my shoulder. After eight hours of running around the office, I was glad to be back home for the day and also the weekend. I dropped my unusually heavy purse, and collapsed on my leather couch.
"At least the pay is good," I thought to myself. Ever since I had left my other job, I'd been struggling to get used to civilian life again and working so much. It probably wouldn't have mattered much, getting around the office, if I was in my combat boots or running shoes the whole day. Of course, I was in a office, so I had to wear business attire, including heels to work.
I brought the toes of my right heel to the back of my left and removed the shoe, doing likewise with the other shoe. My bare feet come out of their confines, glad to be seeing the light finally. My size eights had been scrunched in my undersized heels for hours, shown by the red lines across the skin of my feet and the defeated, pathetic condition they were in. I love my feet though, even if I put them through hell. They were just the right size and were as smooth as can be, until I scrunch up my toes and show all my sexy, deep wrinkles. I usually have them painted, but the heels chipped the paint so fast that I gave up and never repainted them.
I stretched out my toes, then my whole body, like a tired cat. The way things were going with this job, I might just quit now and save me the torture. I hated how the most exciting thing that happened this week was a co-worker's surprise birthday party. At one point, I was so much more than a secretary/mail runner/corporate slave. In fact, I used to work for the CIA.
Now, I know what people would say about that. "You didn't work in the CIA and you definitely were not a spy." Actually, that's correct, I was an assassin, not a spy. I killed bad guys and traveled the globe in doing so. Looking at me, of course, no one would think I could defeat ten men in close combat with nothing but my bare hands and extensive martial arts. I'm about five foot eight inches, so I'm not that short. My skinny frame hides a trained killer, at the peak of perfection. People would probably just dismiss it as I work out a lot.
The real reason people would never guess I'm ex-CIA is my looks. I'm walking eye candy to those around me. I have short, blonde hair, my gorgeous body, leggy and have the brightest blue eyes you will ever see. Growing up, everyone told me I should become a model. Boy, would my highschool friends be so surprised to see what I did instead. I was the most beautiful woman in the entire CIA. Not even the hot secretaries had enough firepower compared to me. Every secretary wanted to fuck the hot male agents. I just wanted them to leave me the fuck alone. Of course, they gave me the attention and left the secretaries to hate me for life. Good lucks aren't always so great.
One thing, however, that did make being sexy great was for getting what I wanted from my enemies. Imagine this: I'm at gunpoint by some horny villainous thug. He thinks he's got me and wants to have a little "fun" with me. Well, let's just say those guys all should have shot me when they had the chance.
I smiled, as I returned my thoughts back to the present. I'm in my last year in my twenties, and I knew that I still had the stuff. That brings my thoughts to my "other job" that I occupied. Reluctantly getting up from my cozy couch, I head to my computer desk. I open up to the login page like I have done a million times. I type in my password (my first pet's name, Sprinkles), and then push a secret button under the desk. Instead of going to Windows 8, my personal system opens up. In my folders, I have hundreds of top-secret files, containing thousands of faces. If the government still knew I had these, I would be shot dead. Fortunately, the feds believed me dead and I changed my hairstyle, name, address and such to cover my tracks. Unless my former co-workers saw me up close and personal, I was safe from harm.
I went to an off-the-grid email system that I had designed to keep my emails, contacts and info safe from any pesky intruders. Since I had left the service, I worked the jobs that I wanted for the clients that would pay. What exactly was my job? Well, it's different, I'll give you that.
The first thing I notice as my inbox comes up is that I have new mail. "Finally, about time," I thought to myself relieved. It had been almost a month since someone had given me a job. I opened up the email, which happened to have video included. Curious to see what it could be, I opened it up. Immediately, the video opens up and a gentleman, with his face in the shadows comes up. Typical unknown client type, from what I could tell. I pressed play and the video started:
"Greetings Valentina. I represent a number of adult entertainment industries. They are interested in your talents for a series of difficult, but well-rewarded missions. We understand that with your training, there is no place you can't get into, no person that can hide from you and no way they will get away without what you want. Inclosed in this email is information on your first target. Complete all these objectives under camera and video, send it to us, and you will be pay your first in what we hope to be many rewards. Save the address, but delete this message, so our competitors will never know. Have a pleasant day."
"Now we are talking." My mind was filled with excitement over the this opportunity. Until now. my jobs had always been a one time deal. Now, I was being offered a multiple deal. "Maybe I can quit that job now...and get a new pair of shoes," I thought, and wiggled my toes on the soft rug. I closed the video and opened up the email for the details. My first mission seemed easy enough. I had to get into a woman's house, undetected at night and find her sleeping. Then, I had to bind her to her bed, take pictures of her feet and worship them on camera, and get out. It would sound weird to anyone reading this: I'm basically making a porno. Absolutely I am, and I love it. I love doing the dirty deeds and getting paid better than any porn actress would. Whoever this was, the industry really wanted to get footage (no pun intended) of this woman's feet being worshipped by me. That's how I liked it.
I scrolled down a bit more. By the looks of things, it actually wasn't going to be easy. This woman was reclusive and lived in a large mansion with gates, trained bodyguards and a tight security system. Finally, there was a little note at the bottom that could have easily been missed. "Make sure that when you are worshipping this girl's feet, the video ends in her climaxing hard. She is believed to have a foot fetish and we wish to prove it. Also, bring a sweaty, dirty sock that she just wore, so we may auction it off for profit."
This woman and I had something in common it seemed. I had a huge foot fetish, and I loved feet almost as much as anything other body part. I almost was too excited for this job now, and went to opening the final part of the message: the details of the person in question. I opened the file and the first thing that came up for a photo shot of a woman about my age. It took me a second, but my mouth dropped as I recognized the woman in the picture.
This woman had long, blonde hair with slight banes to the side. According to the data, she was about five foot four inches in height, weighs one hundred and thirty-five pounds, divorced with two kids, born in Mississippi, raised in Louisiana, a singer and actress and had a record of mental problems. Her feet size was a small six and a half. Of course, most people just knew her by her name: Britney Spears.
I lean back in my desk chair, a bit shocked at this turn of events. I had never done this to a celebrity before. Of course she was living in higher security than most people do, she was a sought after celebrity. I thought back to all her music videos and performances I had seen of her. Britney's feet were never really that prominent, so I didn't really know if they were anything special. Obviously there was some kind of demand for her feet if they were hiring me to do this.
A part of me wanted to say no, it's too dangerous and I could end up in really deep shit. Another part of me, however, wanted the challenge, not to mention Britney's feet. Breaking into her mansion wasn't going to be easy, but my creative mind had already formulated an idea. I smiled, knowing that I wasn't going to reject this offer for the world. I pick up the phone, calling an old favor that would help me get the video I needed for Britney's first porno.
Five hours later, I was on a private plane that my contact owned. I had saved his ass once, so he told me if I never needed his help, to go to him. I was dressed up in my best outfit: my black jumpsuit, haired tied back, my black eye mask on, stealth boots and a confident smile on my face. It was no wonder half the guys in CIA wanted to fuck me, I looked like sex in this. I carried a small pack with me of mission essentials, as I preferred going in light. I had my high def camera for the photos I planned to take first of all. Second, I had a CIA video camera robot, which basically look like a big spider with a camera as a body. This would let me work my magic without having a camera guy around.
I didn't have any guns, but I had my secret weapon handy. To the unsuspecting eye, it looked like a perfume bottle, but it was actually a nerve gas that made the person who smelled it directly pass out for about ten minutes. The victim would wake up to their body almost completely numb, so they couldn't fight back. I knew that being bound to the bed was not going to be enough for me to have my way with the popstar, so I'd hit her with this. Lastly. I brought cuffs and other gadgets along that would guarantee that she wouldn't be any trouble.
The pilot signalled me that I had a minute left. I went to the small arms closet to my right and opened it. In it was the parachute bag that I would need for my jump. My plan to get wasn't really that hard. I was going to parachute my way onto the roof of her mansion, sneaking into the bedroom area when she was asleep and get her to squirt, big time. The guards never bothered to worry about the inside of her house and they would never expect paparazzi to get in from the roof.
Prepared for my jump, the pilot opened the side door. I clinged to the side handle, needing to time this jump exactly right for this to work. I had jumped from planes hundreds of times, yet I always got excited right before each jump. The light above the door flashed and I pushed myself out the door and down I went.
I landed with amazing accuracy and precision on the roof of Britney Spears' house. Disappointed that the ride was over, I swung my parachute over my shoulders and uncoupled it. It was time for the me to break into her bedroom. I had gone over plans for the house I had found on the web, and had a pretty good idea on where to go. Her bedroom was on the top floor thankfully and I found a window in the guest room close to it. The window was opened to let the air in the room. I crawled in easily and listened for any noises. Not even a faint footstep from what I could hear.
I opened the door and crept silently into the hallway. No guards, no cameras, no problem. At the end of the hallway was Britney's room. As quiet as I could be, I rushed to the side of the door. I jiggled the door lock to see if she had left the room unlocked. The lock didn't give, so no such luck. I took out my pick lock and started fiddling with the knob. I could tell just by looking at it that the lock was cheap and it only took my a few seconds to open it.
The room I snuck into was partially dark, but noticeably large. I quickly and quietly closed the door behind me. I pushed the lock back in, just to make sure no one just budged in on our little fun. Britney was in her queen sized bed, tucked in and sound asleep. The largest window had it's blinds open and moonlight was soaking in. I took in a big gulp, knowing I had only one shot at this. I gave Britney a look over for a second. The pop star was very beautiful, dressed in a simple, white nightgown and curled up in her bed. The sight made her seem so innocent, and I felt a bit guilty about doing this. That guilt, however, soon passed as I realized that this girl was nothing close to being innocent. Besides, my tongue longed for female feet.
I nudged Britney just slightly, not wanting to scare her, just wake her. That did the trick and Britney woke up with a groggy start. "Jim, I told you not to wake me up," she said, not realizing who had woken her up. "I have a press conference tomorrow, I need to sleep." Then she looked up at me and gasped. With my finely tuned reflexes, I took out my perfume bottle and sprayed the contents in her face. Britney leaned back, coughing at the sudden vapor in her face. It took a few seconds, but the gas started taking it's toll. She collapsed on her bed, knocked out cold.
The clock started now, with ten minutes until she woke up. My first order of business was the foot pictures. I took off the sheets of her bed and revealed her feet. Admittedly, I was a bit impressed. Although they were small, they were very cute and clean. Her toes were tiny and unpainted, but looked tasty and fun sized for my mouth. Britney had very southern-like feet: wrinkled, cream white, with plenty of meat on them.
I took out my camera and took the requested pictures of her feet. It was nothing fancy, just taking shots at different angles, close-ups, sole shots and down her leg. This only took a five minutes, which meant plenty of time for phase two.
I took out my handcuffs and put them around the right bed post. I then cuffed Britney's wrists. Next, I took a sheet from her bed and ripped into into a long strip and tied her feet together. Her body at this point was laying face up on the bed. I knew that I had to tie her down more if I was going to keep her steady. I removed another little surprise from my pack: a long bungie cable that would could be wrapped around her body and the bed. I threw the cable under the bed and and to the other side. I brought the stiff, resisting cables and attached them to each other. It was really tight, so I hardly could get them around Britney's skinny frame, but I knew she wasn't going anywhere.
I looked at my watch. I had two minutes left. Then, I remembered one of the requests that the email listed. I looked around the room for her socks. There, at the edge of her bed where her socks, mostly likely discarded after a long day of choreography rehearsals and such. I took one of the socks up to my nose and gave it a sniff.
"Holy crap," I thought to myself. They smelled incredible. The sweat and stench was still very strong on them. I knew I had to save this. I took out a baggie and seal it in, hoping to keep the smell in. I took the other sock and gave it a sniff as well. Heaven to my senses all over again.
"What the hell is going on," I turned around to find Britney waking up. She was trying her best to get up. "What is this? Why the fuck am I tied up?" She started struggling like a trapped fly in a web.
"You know it's useless to struggle," I told her. "You're at my mercy now." I bend down and looked her in eyes. Britney didn't look scared, just pissed beyond belief. "So while you're laying there...put a sock in it." And with that, I took Britney's dirty sock and stuffed in it her mouth. With her body bound to the bed and the gas already starting to work it's magic, she was helpless to resist.
I sprawled on the bed and took her right foot first. Britney gave me a puzzled look and I returned it with a smile. "So Britney, I heard you have a foot fetish right?" I said teasingly. "Well, let's find out shall we?" I took out my long tongue and licked her big toe. She twitched suddenly, not wanting to be licked. "Bingo," I thought to myself. This girl was mine now. I took out my camera bot and push a button. The machine came alive in my hand jumped off. It would be recording the whole time, every movement.
I took Britney's big toe and popped into my mouth and started sucking on delicious, sweaty skin. Her toes were small enough that I could fit almost all her toes inside my warm mouth, so I crammed them in. Britney started making slight noises in protest of her feet being sucked on. I ignored it and ran my tongue on her soft piggies. My mouth only got wetter and wetter, as the taste was an orgasm in my mouth. I felt a little bit of slobber escape my mouth and fall to my knees. The job was a bit messy, so I paid no heed to my gross behavior.
After sucking on her toes for what seemed like an hour, I removed them from my mouth. Saliva coated the toes and they looked like she has just got out of a bath. Britney could see her feet from her angle and gave what I swear was a look of admiration on her face.
"I guess there is some truth about you having a foot fetish Ms. Spears," I said teasingly. "Would you like me to have some fun with your soles?"
She shook her head in protest, which I had expected her to. This made me think she knew if I continued, she would cum. I smiled and took both of her feet up and pressed them together. I took my tongue and slid it between her Southern soles. My tongue wiggled around the heels, like I was licking her clit ravenously. Britney's protesting increased, but she was still unable to do anything about it physically. It would take awhile for the effects to wear off and I would be long gone by then.
Then, I remembered something in my head. An interview that she had done a long time again. She totally admitted to loving when her feet were kissed. I took my lips and started softly, but sexually kissing her feet. They felt as soft as my lips, but still a bit sweaty in some areas. Britney's protests stopped immediately, and she seemed to relax. I continued to kiss her angelic feet, with a lick or two in between. I just loved the taste too much to resist.
After kissing them for awhile, it was time to shock her into orgasming. I crammed as many of her toes on her feet and I could and started sucking as hard as I could. I drowned her feet in my saliva and once again it rolled down my face and even on her feet. Britney's relaxed eyes suddenly shot with a mix of panic and obvious pleasure. I sucked and sucked and splattered her feet with as much saliva as I could, feeling like I was going to cum before she did. My clit was burning hot and started to feel wet with pre-cum.
Fortunately, I wasn't first. Britney's eyes grew even bigger and then she let out a muffled wail and her body convulsed. I let go of her feet, and she relaxed back again. Lighting up her panties, I was happy to see them absolutely soaked in cum. The camera bot closed in on Britney's wet pussy and I took a few photos as well.
Disappointed that I was done, I gave Britney's feet a stroke and prepared to walk away. Before I left the room though, I blew Britney a kis. "Thank you for the delicious feet love!" I said. Britney groaned and screamed, most likely wanting me to release her. Of course, I couldn't do so since she would raise the alarm. I closed the door, still reeling with pleasure from my day. "I think I'll go home and masterbate a little," I thought to myself. I escaped the house without a problem and went home to deliver my special package.