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.