James' duties for the night had been completed and the boy was safely
in bed, so he headed down to the hotel lounge for a nightcap. He sat
at the bar and ordered a martini, shaken not stirred, and proceeded
to examine his fellow patrons in the large mirror behind the bar.
One in particular caught his attention, a tall lovely
brunette in a black evening gown. He recognized her from this
evening's reception; she had been sitting at table three. Now she was
alone in one of the lounge's velvet booths, elegantly sipping a glass
of champagne. She was smoking a long white cigarette with great
style – provocative French inhales followed by long slow exhales
toward the ceiling.
"Here you are sir," said the bartender respectfully as he
delivered the tuxedoed gentleman his martini.
"Thank you," replied James sliding payment across the shiny black
surface of the bar and including a healthy tip.
Taking a sip of his cocktail, the suave secret agent glanced
nonchalantly at the mirror, hoping to get another glimpse of the dark-
haired beauty. Much to his chagrin, her table was empty. His mood
somewhat dampened, he returned to his drink.
He smelled her perfume first, a clean scent of vanilla. Then
she was there beside him. She was even more beautiful up close, with
a model's classically sculpted features; her thick dark hair piled
atop her head in an elaborate coif. Her alabaster skin contrasted
nicely with the ebony satin of her dress and gloves.
"Do you mind?" she asked in a cultured French accent as she
slid onto a stool.
She placed her black sequined purse on the bar as he nodded his
consent. She was obviously not a woman who was used to hearing the
word `no'. Opening the purse, she removed a silver cigarette case and
extracted a long white cigarette. James gallantly lit it for her.
"Merci," said the French femme, exhaling a cloud of smoke skyward. "I
"Bond," returned the gentleman. "James Bond."
"Yes I know," responded the woman. "My employer is a friend of yours."
"Oh? I didn't know I had any friends here. Who is your boss?"
"She told me to show you this."
The woman turned away. The gown she was wearing revealed her smooth
bare back. On her left shoulder was a small tattoo - an octopus.
"Octopussy!" he whispered.
"She would like to see you," replied his mysterious guest stubbing
out her cigarette and sliding off the chair. "Shall we?"
James stood and took the woman's arm, allowing himself to be led
toward the elevators. His sense of danger told him not to, but his
curiosity was getting the better of him. He hadn't seen the lovely
smuggler in quite a long time.
They got on the elevator and rode up in silence, the British agent
very aware of the feel of the woman's satin glove in his hand and the
intoxicating aroma of her perfume. They got off at the top floor in
the south wing and he let her lead the way down the hall. She brought
him to the honeymoon suite and tapped lightly on the door.
"Come in," called a familiarly feminine voice.
Sophia pushed the door aside and motioned for James to enter. He
walked inside and scanned the room expectantly. His eyes took a
moment to adjust to the dim light.
"Looking for me darling?" teased the hidden femme as she came out
from behind an ornate oriental dressing screen. She was clad in a
heavy, black satin robe, the high collar and cuffs trimmed in black
mink. The garment was loose-fitting and dragged along the floor as
"It is you," James breathed relaxing visibly. He had been concerned
that perhaps he was walking into a trap.
"I've missed you too," replied the lovely woman moving over towards
her makeup table. She proceeded to touch up her eyes, lips, and
cheeks while James waited patiently for the feminine ritual to end.
Satisfied, the mysterious smuggler known as Octopussy finished her
preparations by picking up a crystal perfume atomizer and lightly
spritzing her neck and wrists.
Finally she stood and sauntered over to the suave spy, who had become
a good deal less patient.
"If I had known you weren't ready, I would have finished my drink,"
commented the Brit dryly.
"Oh, poor baby," returned the femme. "I hope it was worth the wait."
"You look as beautiful as ever," he assured her. "And your perfume
smells heavenly. What is it?"
"Just a little something I picked up in Morocco recently," she told
him. "Now, lets get you a drink."
She clapped her hands sharply and a very attractive young blonde in a
scandalous French-maids outfit came scurrying into the room.
"Oui Madame?" she asked dipping into a perfect courtesy that
displayed a good deal of cleavage.
"A martini for Mr. Bond, Francesca. Shaken not stirred." The girl
hurried over to the bar and Octopussy took James' hand. "Let's retire
to the veranda," she suggested. "It's such a beautiful evening."
She led him out onto the balcony, where there was an elegant red silk
settee flanked by glass side tables. They settled onto the sofa,
making themselves comfortable. There was a black wooden box trimmed
in gold on one of the tables. Octopussy opened it and removed a
cigarette, which she proceeded to light using an elaborate gold and
emerald lighter that had been created using a priceless Faberge egg.
"I see you still have expensive tastes," James noted indicating the
egg, which she had returned to its golden stand.
"I like beautiful things," she replied. "Like Sophia."
James had forgotten about the gorgeous brunette, but now noticed that
she was standing on the balcony as if awaiting orders from her
mistress. Her bold stare made him slightly uncomfortable, unusual for
the normally unflappable secret agent.
"So Octopussy, what brings you to Edinburgh?" he asked her, trying to
change the subject.
He was interrupted when the `maid' returned bearing his beverage on a
silver tray. He thanked the young woman politely and took a sip of
his drink. It was prepared excellently, just the way he liked it. Not
that this surprised him coming from Octopussy.
"Now where were we?" he continued. "Oh yes, why are you in Scotland
"Business," replied the smuggler simply. "The same as you."
"How do you know I'm not here on holiday Octopussy?"
"Because James, I'm here for the same reason you are," she
replied. "The Prince. Oh and I'm not called Octopussy any longer. My
new Master prefers the name `Lady Shadow'."
"Lady Shadow! But she's wanted for drug smuggling, white slavery,
"Well a girl needs to make a living."
He stood up in shock and stepped away from his former lover. He
couldn't believe the gentle woman he had made love with so many times
was the notorious Lady Shadow. Before he could speak a wave of
dizziness and nausea swept over him. His limbs suddenly felt like
they were made of water. He looked at the glass of alcohol in his
hand and realization flooded into his brain. Enraged, he threw the
glass over the balcony.
"You drugged my drink," he accused, sinking back onto the settee as
his legs gave out.
"Really James, do you think I would resort to something so cliché?"
"The smoke from your cigarette…"
"Wrong again darling, although certainly more my style," she teased,
blowing a cloud of smoke at him. "Give up? It's my perfume. I call
it `Shadow Mist'. It's made from a rare African strain of Nightshade.
Quite poisonous and very potent."
His arms were useless, but still he tried to reach for his pistol.
Sophia, who had walked over when he stood up, took it from him as
easily as a mother taking candy from a baby.
"There, there," soothed Lady Shadow. "I'm not going to kill you. I
just need you incapacitated while I conclude my business. Just relax
and Sophia will suck your cock."
The brunette sat next to him and proceeded to do just that, lowering
her head into his lap. She performed fellatio with the skill that one
would expect from the former Parisian courtesan that she was.
"You're here… to kidnap… the prince," James gasped.
"Now darling, really. I'm not a kidnapper," she protested. "I'm
simply here to transport the young lad back to my Master. Someone
else is handling the abduction." She checked her jeweled Cartier
wristwatch. "And as a matter of fact they should be starting right
Alistair Smedley, the head of security at The Castle, one of
Scotland's most ancient and venerable hotels looked around the
control room nervously. Even with Prince William safely back in his
room, the middle-aged gentleman was understandably jumpy. Most people
would be with a roomful of British Secret Service agents and a sickly
The nurse had been summoned, and was on her way to see to the young
sir. The five men all watched on the video monitors as she swayed
sensuously down the hall, accompanied by the older, but equally
attractive head of housekeeping, Lady Margaret Mac Lethe.
"Wouldn't mind a spot of the flu myself," commented one of the
agents, garnering chuckles from his companions.
They stopped laughing and turned as the door opened. It was only
Maura, one of the maids, pushing a cart laden with cups of steaming,
"I thought you gents might like some coffee," commented the redhead
in a cheerful Scottish brogue.
There had been a sudden influx of redheads several months ago, when
Margaret Mac Lethe had been hired as head of housekeeping. She
herself was a fiery tempered flame-haired Scot, who ruled her domain
with an iron fist. The fact that she had replaced much of the staff
with fellow redheads was odd, but they were all great workers so
"Don't mind if I do Miss," replied one of the men as she handed out
the mugs. "It's going to be a long night."
"Oh, I wouldn't be to sure of that," the plaid-skirted young vixen
replied cheerfully. "You'll all be asleep before you know it."
Her comment proved prophetic as the men began slumping over in their
chairs. All but Mr. Smedley, who picked up the telephone.
"The control room is taken Lady Fogg," he said.
Seconds later the door burst open and a regally beautiful woman
strode in. Dressed in the same black gossamer gown that she had worn
to the Prince's reception, Lady Fiona Fogg, Duchess of Bedfordshire,
looked every inch the aristocratic, noble-blooded lady that she was.
The minor royal turned sinister villainess fixed Smedley with a cool
"Phase one is complete Milady," he told her eagerly.
"Excellent," she replied rubbing her black leather-gloved hands
together. "Begin phase two."
He sent the signal.
Lady Margaret Mac Lethe, head of the house at Castle Black, Lord
Morpheus' secret hideout in the Scottish highlands, strode
purposefully down the hall towards the Prince's bedchamber. Her
eldest daughter, Morgan, accompanied her in the guise of the
hotel `nurse'. As they neared the two British agents standing watch
outside the room, her watch beeped – the signal that the operation
They presented themselves to the agents, who radioed into the room to
let the agent positioned there know that the nurse was on her way in.
These gentlemen had the same thought as their unconscious brethren in
the control room. A little illness would be well worth it to be
examined by this nurse.
Morgan noticed the men staring at her expansive bosom, which was
straining against her tight, white uniform. She took the stethoscope
that was hanging around her neck and began to swing it slowly back in
forth in front of her tits.
"Maybe when I'm done with the little lad, you boys would like an
exam," she cooed suggestively.
The agents smiled, but their mirth was short-lived. A white dust shot
forth from the stethoscope into their faces. The two Brits slumped to
the floor as middle-aged but lovely as ever Lady Margaret and her
delectable daughter slipped into the Prince's room. They closed the
door behind them and heard a female voice shout from the bedroom –
"Come in nurse. We're in the bedroom."
That would be agent Vanessa Kensington, the Prince's personal tutor
and bodyguard. Margaret turned and nodded to her daughter. The
vivacious thirty-three year old redhead went to see to the patient as
her mother signaled the control room with her watch.
The Duchess smoked from a long black cigarette holder as she watched
the action unfolding on the screen before her. She nibbled
thoughtfully on the tip of the holder while the redheaded nurse
gassed the two agents with her stethoscope. She eyed the four agents
slumped in their chairs in the control room.
"Your sister Morgan makes a lovely nurse," she commented to Maura who
was busy cleaning up the spilled remnants of drugged coffee that she
had given the agents.
She turned to the older man. "Six down, twelve to go. Smedley, cue
Daniel Parker was one of the junior agents and as such had the
unenviable job of patrolling one of the staircases, which led to the
wing where the Prince was staying. He was required to walk up and
down the five flights of stone steps, and make sure nobody tried to
get up that way.
He was on the second floor when he heard a door close above him. The
doors were supposed to be locked and only he and his fellow agents
had keys. He thought that maybe it was Ray, coming to relieve him
early. Light footsteps began to ring on the stairs, getting closer.
"That you Ray?" he called.
There was no answer. He called out again, and began to move
cautiously up the stairs. He looked up and saw something floating
slowly down towards him. Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed
it. It was a woman's white, lacy handkerchief and it smelled heavily
of exotic perfume. He foolishly brought it up to his nose to get a
better whiff of the tantalizing fragrance.
Seconds later he fell to the floor, having knocked himself out with
the narcotic-drenched hankie. A redhead in a plaid skirt and red top
arrived on the stairway landing. Molly bent down and retrieved her
handkerchief and pushed a button on her wristwatch. Seven down.
Mike Thomas was the other junior agent, and was patrolling the
staircase on the east side of the wing. He was in the basement
stairwell when the door opened surprising him. Walking through the
door was an equally shocked-looking maid with long, red hair. She had
an unlit cigarette dangling from her mouth that she had been
preparing to light, when the man startled her by pulling out his gun.
"Oh," she gasped. "You frightened me."
"I didn't mean to startle you miss," he apologized, realizing that
she was just one of the hotel maids looking to sneak in a smoke. "But
you're not supposed to be here."
"I'm sorry," she replied, regaining her composure. "This is my little
hiding place for my cigarette breaks. I'm not in trouble am I?" she
asked with a dazzling smile.
"No, I guess not," he conceded. "You don't mind if I have one do you?"
"Of course not," she said holding out her pack. "Help yourself. I'm
Maeve by the way."
"Mike Thomas," he replied taking one of the butts and putting it
between his lips.
She held up the lighter and flipped open the top, but instead of a
flame, thick white gas billowed into his face. He fell to the floor,
asleep before he landed. Maeve lit her cigarette and casually
exhaled, before sending the appropriate signal with her watch. Eight
Bob was the `roaming agent', and was walking the halls of the hotel
looking for anything that seemed out of place. At a quarter past
midnight he promptly pulled out his communicator to check in with the
"This is agent Sloan, all seems clear. Over."
"Good evening agent Sloan," responded a haughty female voice. "Are
you sure it's clear? I believe a fog may be rolling in."
"Who is this?" he demanded into the microphone. A white mist began to
fill the hall. He tried to cover his mouth and nose and made a run
for it. It was no use, as the Lady Midnight's paralyzing fog froze
him in his tracks.
"Nine down," purred the black-clad royal femme evilly in the control
room. "Smedley, have the girls start the wake-up calls."
The nightstand phone rang shrilly and agent Willis reached clumsily
over to answer it. The off-duty agent couldn't believe that it was
time to get up already. Actually it wasn't.
"Good morning," said the female voice on the line cheerfully. "It's
time for your bedtime call."
"Don't you mean my wake-up call?" he asked groggily.
"No," she replied simply.
A cloud of gas poured from the receiver, enveloping the agent's head.
He dropped the phone and collapsed back onto the bed.
"Sleep well," offered May. She hung up and dialed the next room.
It had been a very long evening for Harold Smythe, the senior agent
in the prince's protection detail. At 65 he was close to retirement
and couldn't take the long days anymore. He was seated on the edge of
the bed in his white boxers and black socks when there was a knock on
"Who is it?" he called as he rose stiffly and shuffled to the door.
"House-keeping, I'm here to turn down the bed."
He leaned in to look out the peephole and was greeted by a stream of
green gas that shot through the tiny opening. The aging agent dropped
like a stone. Marilyn put the aerosol spray back in her pocket and
moved away from the door. As she did so, she touched a button on her
Nurse Morgan slipped silently into the Prince's bedchamber. Miss
Kensington was in a chair at his beside. She looked up when the door
"I hear we have a sick boy here," said Morgan sympathetically as she
moved towards the bed.
Prince William was lying there with a very flushed face. Morgan
placed a cool, reassuring hand on his forehead. His skin was hot and
"He definitely has a fever," she commented. Of course she knew he
would. The drugs slipped into his dinner would assure that. She
pulled a thermometer from her bag and stuck it in his mouth.
"I don't think it's too serious," she continued. "But I need to give
him a full physical. And the poor boys sheets are soaked. He'll need
She looked to the pretty, young agent. "Be a dear, and ask Lady Mac
Lethe to send some up, won't you lass? She's in the outer room."
Vanessa rose and went to the door while Morgan turned back to the
Prince. She gave him a big smile and began pulling on a pair of latex
"Don't worry lad," she told him. "We'll have you good as new in no
time. In the meantime, let's make sure that everything is in working
He nodded at her somewhat shyly, as he was just a fifteen year-old
boy and the nurse was quite beautiful. She pulled back the sheets and
examined his body. Not surprisingly a tent was beginning to grow in
his pajama bottoms. She took the thermometer from his mouth and
checked it cursorily. Putting it aside she lazily rubbed her hand
over the front of his pants.
The surprised Prince grunted and tried to say something, but his
mouth would not cooperate. The thermometer had been coated with a
tranquilizer that had numbed his mouth quite thoroughly. He would
make no protests.
"Just relax dear and let nurse Morgan have a look at that," she said
reaching into her medical bag. She pulled out a bottle of lotion and
squeezed some into her palm. She then put her hands down the front of
his burgundy pj's. He moaned softly as she began to stroke him.
"I bet you're feeling better already," she teased as she moved her
slick gloved hand up and down on his shaft.
As she jerked him off with one hand she pulled her stethoscope from
between her breasts with the other. She placed it against his chest
"Oh my, I'm afraid someone is a little over-excited," she
said. "Let's help you calm down a bit, shall we?"
She moved the stethoscope in front of his face and pressed a button.
White powder shot into his face and he slumped back with a sigh. At
the same time his royal member exploded in a hot, messy orgasm.
Morgan hummed softly to herself as she cleaned him up and stuffed his
quickly shrinking cock back into his pants. She removed her gloves
and tucked her stethoscope back between her tits. She opened her
medical bag and removed a hypodermic needle. She pressed the plunger
a bit to release any air and liquid squirted out the needle. She rose
and went towards the door.
"Sleep well, sweet Prince," she cooed, blowing the sleeping boy a
kiss. "Your Princess awaits."
Vanessa Kensington left the room and found Lady Mac Lethe tidying up
in the living room. The beautiful, older redhead had a soothing,
motherly smile and the female agent couldn't help liking her.
"How is the lad?" she asked with genuine concern.
"Still feverish," replied Vanessa politely. "The nurse would like
clean sheets for the bed."
"Of course lass, I'll have them sent right up. And don't worry about
our young Prince, he's in good hands."
She went to the phone and gave a few brief commands, before turning
back to the pretty brunette.
"Sit dearie, you must be exhausted. I'll make us some tea while we
She went into the kitchenette and began bustling around as Vanessa
slumped into an armchair. She really was tired. It had been a long
day. After a few minutes the flame-haired woman returned, teacup in
The beautiful Brit took the cup and drank deeply. It tasted of mint
and honey, but there was also a strange after-taste that she couldn't
quite identify. Her body began to feel quite heavy. She heard a thump
and realized that she had dropped her teacup. Her vision wavered…
Mackenzie and Maxine walked toward the elevator with their cart laden
with clean linens and pillows. The two young redheads were dressed in
the livery of the hotel's maids. One agent was on duty in the back
hallway. It was his job to see that only approved people were allowed
onto the elevator that was being reserved for the Prince's floor. He
waved them onto the elevator where another agent was waiting for them.
They smiled flirtingly at him, but he was a dour sort of man. It was a
quick trip to the fifth floor and the door opened to reveal to more
waiting agents in the hall. Mackenzie steered the cart out of the
elevator. As it crossed into the hall it began to tip, spilling
The two agents quickly bent to help retrieve them and the girls
wasted no time in moving into action. Mackenzie grabbed a sheet from
the cart and quickly shook it open above the agents' heads. A cloud
of shimmering dust flew into the air and settled onto the startled
gents. They collapsed instantly.
Maxine meanwhile deftly swept the legs out from under the agent in
the elevator. He was unprepared for the attack and quickly found
himself on his back. Pressing her advantage, Max grabbed a pillow
from the cart and straddled the fallen man. She forced the pillow
into his face and the agent was shocked to find that it had been
soaked in some sort of odorless liquid.
He tried to buck the girl off but she squeezed her thighs around his
middle and refused to let go. Mackenzie meanwhile, having dispatched
the two agents in the hall, moved to help her sister. She gave the
writhing man a swift quick to the groin and he inhaled with a sharp
grunt of pain. The Lethean dew on the pillow sent him on a fast
downward spiral to darkness.
Maxine got off him and threw the pillow to the side. They finished
reloading their cart and disabled the elevator, before continuing
down the hall.
Vanessa looked down dumbly at the teacup at her feet. A lethargy was
beginning to spread through her entire body. She looked up as the
bedroom door opened and the nurse came waltzing out with her hands
behind her back.
"The Prince is sleeping like a baby," she sighed as she came
out. "It's amazing how a hand-job and some sleeping gas can make a
boy so sleepy."
"Excellent Morgan," nodded her mother. "I think this lass is getting
a wee bit drowsy herself.
The brunette Brit looked dazedly from one woman to the other. "You
drugged me," she accused thickly, trying to rise. She climbed
unsteadily to her feet and weaved towards the door. She had foolishly
left her sidearm in her purse in the bedroom.
She did have her communicator and began trying to contact her backup
in the hall. The door opened and two more redheads entered pushing a
cart. Through the open door, Vanessa could see the unconscious bodies
of her comrades lying on the floor.
Suddenly, Nurse Morgan grabbed her from behind. She used one hand to
gag her mouth and, with her hidden needle, injected a sedative into
the woman's thigh. The gorgeous Royal guard stiffened in shock when
she felt the needle pinch, but then went limp, collapsing in her
Lady Mac Lethe had already turned her back and was issuing orders to
"Maxine, Mackenzie, get the cart into the bedroom and begin unloading
the gear. Morgan, dump her on the couch and help your sisters. This
operation isn't over yet ladies," she told them. While her daughters
hastened to obey, the flame-haired matron sent a signal to the
Alistair Smedley turned to his Mistress when he saw the last signal
"The agents have been neutralized Duchess, everything is ready for
"Not all of the agents, Smedley," she replied contemptuously,
pointing at one of the monitors. "There is still our young friend
guarding the lift in the back hall. But no matter, I will see to him
myself. And there is still the issue of the outdoor watch. Maura
darling, release the fog and alert team three."
Without waiting to see that her commands were being obeyed, for they
always were, the fabulous femme swept out of the office. Donning a
flowing black veil, she made her way towards the back of the hotel. A
small smile adorned her lips, a smile that would chill to the bone.
The grumpy agent guarding the freight lift was busily trying to
summon the lift, which appeared to be stuck on the fifth floor. He
turned when he heard heels ringing on the tiles. He was alarmed to
discover that the hallway was filling with a thick white fog.
Gliding through the gathering mist like an apparition was a
mysterious woman. The femme was oddly, if elegantly, dressed in a
flowing black gown of filmy, opaque, gossamer silk. The garment
seemed to be both black as pitch and see-through at the same time.
The dress sparkled like it was covered in thousands of tiny diamonds
that flashed when they caught the light. The woman's head and face
were covered by a long, translucent veil of the same shimmering,
The agent raised his arm, as if to halt the ghostly femme, but it
felt as if his limbs were made of concrete. The woman raised her own
hand, which he noticed was sheathed in tight black leather, and
grasped the helpless man by the throat. He had been rendered
completely impotent by her paralyzing fog.
The man was surprised by her strength as she squeezed his throat,
cutting off his air. He clawed uselessly at her hand, trying to break
her grip, but his fingers just slid helplessly over the slippery
leather of her gloves. His senses began to dull and he made a last
desperate lunge, managing to grab her veil.
As his vision began to fade he noticed how lovely she looked. Her
calm smile was somehow re-assuring and she murmured softly to him,
like a mother putting a child to bed. He stopped struggling and
stared into her deep brown eyes. They seemed so big, those eyes. His
sight narrowed until there was nothing else in the world but her
eyes. Darkness took him.
The Duchess held her victim for another minute, ensuring that he was
well and truly dead, before allowing his lifeless body to fall to the
floor. She bent and retrieved her veil and let it fall over the dead
agents face. The Castle was hers. Soon the soldiers outside would be
taken care of as well and there would be no one to stop her from
spiriting away Prince Charming. Her Master would be pleased.
Lady Shadow leaned against the balcony, enjoying both her cigarette
and the sight of Sophia sucking James' dick. She was a talented
Her Cartier watch beeped, right on schedule. She took a final drag of
her cigarette and flicked it over the railing. She moved to the sofa
and sat next to her former lover.
"I'll bet that feels wonderful, doesn't it James? But unfortunately
we're under some time constraints and there are other things that
Sophia needs to attend to."
She snapped her fingers and the French harlot stopped her oral
"Sophia, have Francesca fetch our distinguished guest from the other
room. Then the two of you should get into your costumes. It's almost
time for the delivery."
The bewitching brunette nodded and rose. She bent over to give James
a sensual kiss on the cheek before turning and leaving the balcony.
Lady Shadow meanwhile took to lazily stroking the sleepy secret
"I hope you aren't mad at me James, but I'm afraid I told a little
white lie," she told him. "You see I'm here to kidnap someone after
The lights in the hotel room darkened and a shadowy figure appeared
in the doorway.
"Ah, here's our special guest now," she continued. "James Bond, I'd
like you to meet…"
"Bond, James Bond," finished the newcomer as he moved out of the
As he moved into the light, the beleaguered British agent saw the
man's face. It was like looking into a mirror.
"How?" gasped the real James, as his impostor sauntered over and
gallantly kissed Lady Shadow's hand.
"It's amazing, isn't it?" the femme agreed. "He's just like you in
every way. Well not every way," she allowed running her hand over the
front of the new James' trousers. "He's hung like a horse."
She stood and he enveloped her in a warm embrace, kissing her deeply.
His hands roamed freely inside her robe.
"Oh James, you're such a cad," she squealed in mock protest as he
fingered her ass. "But really darling, you can fuck me later. We have
business to attend to."
Her watch beeped again.
"The guards in the courtyard have been eliminated," she
remarked. "They'll be getting ready to send over the package. Stand
Her words proved prophetic when a grappling hook came whistling out
of the sky to land on the balcony with a thud. Impostor James grabbed
the hook and removed two ropes that were attached to it. He took the
ropes and ran them through a pulley that was mounted on the balcony
rail. Once it was secure he whistled. After a moment the signal was
returned, and he began to pull on the ropes.
"You see darling, the Prince's balcony is directly across the
courtyard," Lady Shadow explained to James, who was watching his twin
quizzically. "Soon his Royal personage is going to come across in a
harness. And then he, and you, are going to go on a little trip with
moi'. Doesn't that sound like fun?"
James struggled to stand, but his limbs were still useless. The woman
he once knew as Octopussy laughed, a tinkling chuckle tinged with
Francesca and Sophia arrived back on the veranda. They were each
wearing white, tight-fitting nurse's uniforms and pushing
wheelchairs. They came over to James and began loading him into one
of the chairs. He was as helpless as a kitten to resist them.
"Take him inside and get him ready girls," Lady Shadow ordered. "But
She pulled a small aerosol spray from her robe pocket and pointed it
"Time for a nap darling," she cooed. "When you wake up you'll feel
like a new man."
A cloud of pink gas enveloped his face, and his chin sank down to his
chest. The `nurses' wheeled him inside.
"Oh Lady Shadow," the fake James interrupted. "I have a present for
She turned to see him lifting a handsome young man dressed in pajamas
over the balcony. He cradled the boy in his arms and carried him to
"Mmmm, what a darling boy," she sighed ruffling his dirty blonde
hair. "What I could do to you. Put him in the other chair and take
him inside," she ordered. "I need to change as well."
She swept inside as James did her bidding.
Sean Mac Creary and Ian Stuart, two proud young members of Scotland's
famous `Black Watch Highlanders', were patrolling the courtyard with
the same seriousness and alertness that they would display in enemy
territory. Their job was to make sure that the Prince was not
attacked via his balcony overlooking the courtyard. As unlikely as
that seemed, the Black Watch acted as if enemies could come pouring
out of the windows at any second.
The kilted soldiers marched in opposite directions around the yard,
meeting every few minutes under the Prince's balcony. At just before
2am, they completed one of their rounds. They were completely unaware
that they had been being watched for quite some time, their movements
being duly noted.
Morgan and her younger sisters, Mackenzie and Maxine, had unloaded
their equipment from the linen cart and stood ready to complete their
part of the mission. The two youngsters held a heavy, weighted net,
which was lined in chloroform-soaked gauze and outfitted with several
sleeping gas canisters rigged to activate upon impact. The `bed-web'
as they called it was designed to knockout prey quickly and quietly.
When their target was in range, Morgan gave a silent nod. Maxine and
Mackenzie let the net fly just as their elder sister called to the
unsuspecting soldiers below.
"Yoo hoo lads! Look up!" she shouted.
They did so, just in time to be engulfed by the net. Its weighted
edges dragged them to the ground, knocking the wind out of them. The
harsh odor of chloroform assaulted their lungs as the gauze smothered
them. They had no time to even cry out, as a soft hiss indicated that
the gas canisters had kicked in. The fools were asleep before they
The girls watched as pink gas drifted from beneath the net. There was
no movement. Morgan signaled with her watch, and then moved to a
small air cannon, which was loaded with a grappling hook. She fired
the apparatus and watched as the nylon ropes sailed across the
courtyard. She hooked her end onto the pulley and then, with the aid
of her sisters, attached the harness that contained the precious
Prince. All this was done under the watchful eye of their mother.
After a few moments, they heard the expected whistle. Morgan returned
the signal, and after a moment the ropes on the pulley began to move.
The four women watched as the Prince moved through the air, hanging
above the courtyard five stories below. They waited until he had
disappeared into the darkness and then turned and left.
There were three more Black Watch units on patrol on the hotel
grounds. One pair was stationed at each of the two entrances,
checking people as they came and went. Two other soldiers were
circling the huge main building of the Castle, which was in fact a
It was well past the witching hour, and into the wee hours of the
morning, when the thick fog started to roll in. There is nothing
unusual about fog in Scotland, but the suddenness and volume of the
mist was surprising. Out of the gloom came the melancholy wail of
bagpipes, a mournful keening that sent chills up the soldiers' spines.
Just as quickly as it had begun, the sound faded and they were alone
in the fog. The soldiers at the doors made jokes to each other to
ease the tension, and the solitary men continued on their rounds.
It was one of these lonely boys, an eighteen year-old named Charlie,
who stumbled upon a pair of lovely young red-haired lasses. The two
girls, in tartan skirts and black turtlenecks, appeared from the
mist, as if out for a pleasant afternoon stroll. One of them carried
a set of bagpipes.
"Halt! Who goes there?" called the gangly young soldier, in a rather
"Oh!" exclaimed one of the girls, feigning surprise. "It's just
little Maggie Mac Lethe and my sister Meghan."
"You frightened us," added her sister.
"I'm sorry ladies, but I'm just doing my duty."
He noticed the bagpipes that Meghan was holding. "Was that you
playing the pipes?" he enquired.
"Aye lad," Maggie said. "My sister blows well, doesn't she? I do my
best work on another instrument," she continued, approaching him.
"Er, what would that be?"
"Let's just say that I know what's under a true Scotsman's kilt," she
purred kneeling at his feet.
Before he knew what was happening the redheaded siren had lifted his
kilt and was playing a tune on his instrument. He moaned softly under
her alluring oral caresses, but made no move to stop her. The girl
with the pipes just watched patiently as her sister gave her solo
performance. It wasn't long before young Charlie's horn tooted and he
spasmed in orgasm.
"There now lad, wasn't that a delightful tune?" asked Maggie after
she had licked up every last drop. "Now it's time for a Scottish
Meghan stepped forward and pointed her pipes at his face. She blew
into the mouthpiece and a cloud of powder flew into his face. The
young Scot dropped like a sack of Irish potatoes.
Maggie rose from her knees and carefully brushed off her skirt,
arranging it just so. She then sent the signal on her watch.
Two stern faced sentries stood watch at the rear entrance to the
stately old hotel. They were as unmoving as statues even with the
mysterious fog swirling around them. Suddenly one of the men grabbed
his neck, sighed and collapsed to the ground. His partner turned
towards his fallen mate, but felt the same pinch on his next and was
quickly lying on the ground with his partner.
There was a rustling in the bushes and two females emerged, each
holding tranquilizer guns.
"Nice shooting Marsha," complimented one of the red-haired femmes to
"And you as well Mandy," returned the other girl. "Those poor blokes
never had a chance."
She pushed a button on her watch and looked up as she heard footsteps
approaching. It was her sisters, Meghan and Maggie who was the
"Hello girls," greeted Maggie. "Having fun?"
"Like shooting fish in a barrel," replied Marsha. "It sure looks like
you had some fun though."
All the girls giggled and pointed at their young sister who had a
stream of cum drying on her chin.
"No use cleaning up," she declared. "There's one more little soldier
boy left and I intend to get very dirty with him indeed."
The girls rolled their eyes, as they were used to their youngest
sibling's insatiable appetite. They followed her into the fog, to
finish off the last soldier.
That soldier just happened to be walking towards them as well. The
youngest of the group, he had been a little spooked by the fog and
the mysterious bagpipes, and had decided to check in with the
veterans guarding the rear doors. He was in such a hurry, and
visibility was so poor, that he bumped straight into the four girls
who were coming to find them.
Maggie was knocked to the ground and the soldier rushed to help her
"Excuse me Miss," he apologized hastily. "I didn't see you in the
fog." He looked up as if noticing the other girls for the first
time. "Um, you ladies aren't supposed to be out here," he told them,
finally remembering his duty.
"It's ok dear, we won't be here long," replied Marsha stepping
forward. She had a leather purse slung over her shoulder and was
rummaging through it. She pulled out a black makeup compact and
opened it. She drew a powder puff from it and lightly brushed it over
his nose. "Just long enough to put you to bed."
The soldier flinched when the powder was patted into his face, but he
was too late. The drug on the puff went to work immediately, making
him very sleepy. He dropped his gun and stood looking around
stupidly. Maggie pushed him to the ground and dropped down to
straddle him. She pulled up his kilt revealing a rather average-sized
member, which was nonetheless quite hard. The little harlot was
already wet herself and she wasted no time inserting said member into
her slick cunny.
The other girls gathered round to watch their especially horny
sibling ride the incapacitated private like a cowboy at the rodeo.
The petite little redhead put on an impressive show, displaying the
strength and agility of an Olympic-level gymnast. Sadly for the young
soldier he was nearly unconscious and thus couldn't truly appreciate
what was surely the best fuck of his short life.
A ringing began to emanate from Marsha's purse, and she reached in
and grabbed her cell phone. It was her mother.
"What's taking you lasses so long? We're waiting for the last signal
before transporting the packages."
"Maggie's having a go at the last of the boys. He's nearly asleep
"She's a right slut isn't she," chuckled the Lady Mac Lethe. "Well
tell her to finish up and put the lad to bed. The Duchess is getting
Marsha hung up and pulled her compact back out of her purse. She
leaned over and held it in front of the prostrate boy's face. Whoosh!
She blew a cloud of powder at him, covering his face completely. The
already drowsy boy groaned and passed out, cumming as he did so.
"Hey what did you do that for?" demanded the petulant teen, Maggie,
whose needs had not yet been satisfied.
"Mum says we need to hurry up, it's time to leave. Now stopping
pouting and wipe your chin. You look like an absolute prostitute."
The girl rose with the grace of a princess, (no small feet
considering she was on her knees in the dirt straddling an
unconscious man), and with her nose in the air proceeded to march
towards the rear of the building, leaving her sisters to catch up.
Lady Shadow was standing in front of her dressing table, putting on
her diamond earrings. She had changed into a tasteful yet sexy
business suit, navy blue in color with gold buttons on the jacket.
The skirt was short enough to give an enticing glimpse of the tops of
her black, silk stockings. There was a light knock on the door and it
opened. James, the impostor, was standing in the doorway.
"The girl's are almost ready Milady," he informed her as he
approached. "And may I say you look lovely."
He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into an embrace. His
hand moved between her thighs.
"James!" she admonished. "Not now, there isn't time. And besides I
just finished dressing."
"I won't muss a hair on that pretty, little head of yours," he
promised as felt her up over her satin panties. She gasped when he
slid a finger under the edge of her undies, brushing softly against
her pussy lips. The gasp turned to a moan when he moved his hips into
her, letting her feel his hardness.
"Well, maybe we do have a little time," she allowed as he hiked up
His hands began roaming over her perfect ass, massaging her through
her satin panties. Another low moan escaped her lips when he pulled
down her black panties. He bent and began licking her, concentrating
on her asshole. He knew that she loved to have her ass licked.
He stood up and moved her over to the bed, pushing her onto the edge,
face down and bent at the waist.
"Tell me what you want," he ordered.
"You know what I want."
"I want to hear you say it."
"Please," she begged.
"I want you to fuck me in the ass. I want your big hard cock in my
She heard him unzip his pants. The anticipation was driving her wild
as he stood behind her. He rubbed his stiff member across her ass and
then eased just the tip into her waiting hole, his saliva providing
the necessary lubrication. She bit her lip and cried out when he
rammed the length of his dick into her. It was a cry of utter lust.
There was a noise in the doorway and James looked to see Sophia and
Francesca coming into the room. Each of them was pushing a
wheelchair. Seated in the chairs were what appeared to be an elderly
couple, a man and a woman. They were in fact Prince William and James
Bond, cleverly disguised in wigs and masks. James, who was dressed
like an old man, was awake and watching his doppelganger hammering
away at his former lover's bum. The look on his face said that he
would eagerly kill his twin if given the chance.
"Hello old man," said impostor James, never slowing his anal
activities. "Enjoying the show? Maybe you'll like this."
He pulled out of Octopussy's ass and slid his dick into her sopping
pussy. He began to pump away at her wet cunt, her moans growing with
her pleasure. It was over quickly, and he came inside her before
collapsing next to her on the bed. The satisfied villainess rolled
over and straddled him.
"That was nice," she purred. "But now it's time to go. Goodnight
And with that she pointed her aerosol spray at him and gassed him. He
was asleep instantly.
"Sorry darling," Lady Shadow told the sleeping man. "But you need to
be found asleep. This will look very natural."
She got up smoothing her skirt and walked to the dressing table. She
picked her purse up and pulled out a gold lipstick tube and touched
up her makeup. When she was satisfied she picked up her navy blue hat
with fishnet veil and placed it on her head. She began to pull on her
wrist-length leather gloves, smoothing them onto her hands.
"You know if you had been a better lover, I might not have had to go
bad," she commented to the real 007. "You were always such a
gentleman. I mean you need to realize that sometimes a girl needs a
dick in her ass."
She put her items back into her purse and picked up the atomizer that
was filled with her paralyzing perfume. She knew that the last dose
that James had been given would soon be wearing off. Walking toward
the wheelchair bound agent, she stopped and planted a loving kiss on
the sleeping impostor's cheek. It left a bright crimson stain in the
shape of her perfect lips. She looked fondly upon him for a moment
before turning back to her `nurses' and their elderly patients.
"Now James, I'm afraid we're going to have to drug you again," she
told him holding out the atomizer. "I just can't trust you to behave
She spritzed him several times with her patented "Shadow Mist" and
watched as his muscles once again relaxed into uselessness. She
nodded in satisfaction and bent down to him. A clear plastic oxygen
mask sat on his lap, and she took it and fastened it over his face.
The mask was connected to a tank on the back of the wheelchair.
Ostensibly an oxygen tank to help the elderly patient breathe, it was
actually filled with sleeping gas. The villainess explained this to
James as Francesca was fitting an identical mask over the Prince's
"In addition to further disguising your faces, these masks are
connected to gas tanks. If you give us any trouble, Sophia will turn
a valve and it will be off to sleepy-land. Now ladies, I think we
should be on our way."
Meanwhile, The Duchess barged back into the security office. Mr.
Smedley was still there monitoring the cameras, the unconscious Brit
agents still strewn about the floor. Lady Fogg's personal assistant,
Sarah Barnes, was there as well. The twenty-four year-old blonde, a
recent graduate of Cambridge University's prestigious Judge Institute
for Business and a smashing good fuck besides, was holding her
mistress' black mink coat and helped her slip into it.
Duchess Fogg nodded her thanks and wrapped herself in the luxurious
fur. She slid her hand inside the right pocket of the coat and the
item she was looking for was there as it was supposed to be.
"What is the situation Smedley?" she asked shortly.
"All going as planned Milady," he replied. "Lady Mac Lethe and her
daughters are loading into the vans in the rear and your Rolls is
waiting out front."
"Excellent," she purred. "You've performed well Smedley," she
continued sweetly, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a pistol
with a silencer attached and pointed it at the unsuspecting man's
back. "Unfortunately your services are no longer required."
She pulled the trigger and there was a muted thud as the bullet found
its mark. The security chief slumped forward onto the control panel,
blood trickling from a small hole in the back of his head. The femme
fatale stepped forward and fired two more rounds into his already
lifeless body, just to be certain that he was indeed dead.
Sarah, watched impassively as her mistress murdered the man who had
helped them kidnap the Prince. The cool, unflappable blonde regarded
the dead man for a moment before turning to the Duchess.
"Your car is waiting Milady, and Lady Shadow is on her way down with
Bond and the Prince."
"Fine. And the security tapes?"
"They've been destroyed. And the agents have all been gassed using
your special "mind-fogging" sleeping gas. They will remember nothing
when they wake up."
"This leaves only poor Mr. Smedley. And you know what they say my
dear – dead men tell no tales."
She smiled and walked from the room, her assistant following
dutifully after her.
Lady Shadow led her nurses out of the bedroom, through the suite, and
down the hall to the elevator. She summoned the lift, and it arrived
shortly. The smartly dressed femme entered first, followed by the
French women and their captives. The doors closed and they began the
short descent to the lobby. Lady Shadow was shocked when the car
stopped on the fourth floor, one below where they began.
The doors slid open to reveal a rather attractive blonde in a black
cocktail dress. She squeezed into the crowded compartment, surprised
to see others about at this time of night, especially an elderly
couple that was obviously infirmed. The woman pushed the button
impatiently and the car once again started down. She barely glanced
at the beautiful smuggler in the veiled hat standing behind her.
Lady Shadow, on the other hand, was studying the newcomer quite
intently. The woman had the air of an aristocrat and she supposed she
may be some sort of minor noble who had attended the banquet. In
actuality, the blonde was a quite expensive escort who had been
the `guest' of a member of the House of Lords. She was quite put off
that he had ordered her to leave in the dead of night like a common
whore. She was fully aware that she was a whore, she just wasn't
There was another person who was just as interested in this woman, as
she represented his last hope of rescue. James had managed to hold
his breathe when Octopussy had given the last dose of her sinister
scent. The first application was indeed wearing off¸ and he was
beginning to get some feeling back in his limbs. Not much, but
hopefully enough to get the blonde's attention.
He knew that he didn't have much time. Focusing all his attention, he
managed to lean forward just a little. He then flung his right arm
out, clumsily managing to brush the woman's stocking-clad thigh. The
escort gasped and turned around, affronted by the molestation of her
normally expensive to touch body. James stared up at her with
pleading eyes, hoping that she would realize that something was
wrong. But Sophia was just as quick and had immediately turned the
valve releasing the sleeping gas into his mask.
He heard a hiss and a candy-sweet smell filled his nostrils. Almost
instantly his vision began to blur, and the blonde who was to be his
savior slid from view as his head sank down towards his lap. In
seconds he was asleep.
"Just like an Englishman to take a grab and then fall asleep,"
commented Lady Shadow dryly. "Please forgive my father Miss, the old
fool doesn't know what he's doing."
"It's quite alright," the blonde assured her, "I am fully aware of
the fleeting libidos of aging English gentleman."
The elevator arrived at the lobby and the blonde stepped aside to
allow the nurses to unload the elderly couple first. Francesca went
to push her wheelchair out but banged the side of it into the door.
The collision jarred the chair knocking the Prince's disguise askew.
The blonde took one look at the elderly `woman' and gasped in
"My God, that's Prince William," she managed to blurt, before she was
grabbed from behind by Lady Shadow.
The veiled femme's leather gloves smelled heavily of her paralyzing
perfume and she took full advantage, covering the struggling woman's
mouth. The drugs were powerful and the lady foolishly breathed them
in as she struggled to escape.
"Sophia, do be a dear and put her to bed," Lady Shadow requested
calmly as she subdued the quickly fading female.
The blonde's muscles had turned to water and she could only watch
helplessly as the Parisian brunette pulled a syringe from the pocket
of her white coat. She stepped forward and plunged the needle into
the lady's thigh. Her eyes fluttered swiftly for a moment and then
she sank into unconsciousness.
"Well that was fun wasn't it," declared Lord Morpheus' chief
smuggler. "Do see if you can make it through the lobby without that
happening again, would you Francesca?"
The blonde nodded apologetically and they exited the lift. Duchess
Fogg and her assistant were waiting in the lobby. She was impatiently
tapping her foot while she smoked from her holder. She had watched
the events with the blonde unfold, and was less than pleased.
"Who was that slut in the elevator?" she demanded as she came over.
"I'm not sure Milady," admitted Lady Shadow. "But I think my girl's
responded well to the situation."
"I suppose," allowed the black-dressed femme grudgingly. She examined
the two old people in the chairs. "So this is the famous James Bond?
He doesn't look particularly frightening now does he?"
She blew some smoke into the resting agent's face.
"Licensed to Kill," she smirked. "More like licensed to sleep. Well
come along we are running behind schedule and there are still the
soldiers at the main entrance to deal with."
She swept towards the lobby doors with the rest of the women in tow.
There was a tall, balding man standing behind the check-in desk. He
looked up when the glamorous gals began strolling by and tried to
"Er ladies, I'm afraid you need to call ahead to security before you
can leave this evening. Heightened security for the Prince's visit
The Duchess paused and regarded the concierge with all of the
aristocratic English arrogance that she could muster, and that is to
say, a great deal. She coolly took a drag on her cigarette holder and
reached into her pocket. The look of shock on his face was priceless
as she produced her silenced pistol. He didn't even have time to cry
out before she shot him in the head. The ruthless royal had already
resumed her march to the entrance before the body even hit the floor.
Even Lady Shadow, who was earning a well-deserved reputation of her
own for ruthlessness, was amazed at the woman's casual cruelty. She
would have to watch herself around this one.
The collection of dangerous females, walked out the grand, gilded
front doors and onto the hotel's granite steps. This surprised the
two soldiers who were supposed to be apprised by the hotel clerk of
any patrons wanting to leave. They leapt to attention and moved to
block the women.
"Halt! You ladies are supposed to have the front desk call ahead for
permission to leave. We received no such call," one of the men
"Utterly ridiculous," declared the Duchess as she started to brush by
The men brandished their arms and she stepped back raising her arms
to show them her empty hands. Her cigarette holder was clenched
between her teeth, a cigarette smoldering on the end.
"Don't move, we need to call the desk," instructed one of the
"Relax boys," murmured Lady Fogg, "I don't believe he'll answer. He's
The tip of her cigarette holder exploded in a cloud of red gas, which
quickly enveloped the soldiers. They disappeared in the scarlet fog,
gagging and choking. When the smoke cleared the men were lying on the
stone steps, their faces frozen in gruesome masks of death.
The Duchess stepped over them and sauntered down to her waiting Rolls
Royce, which had just pulled up in front. There was an ambulance
behind it and several white-uniformed orderlies rushed up the steps
to grab the wheelchair-bound captives. Fiona Fogg stood on the walk
and inserted a fresh cigarette into her holder. Sarah appeared at her
side and provided a light.
"Lady Shadow, you will ride with me," ordered the Duchess. "Your
whores can take the next car with my assistant Miss Barnes."
"It would be my honor Milady," replied the smuggler graciously as she
slid into the Rolls.
However, she was more than a little apprehensive. She owed her
to Lord Morpheus and second to the Countess du Sommeil, who had
recruited her into their master's service. Still, it wouldn't do to
cross the obviously dangerous Lady Fogg.
The Duchess climbed in and sat next to Lady Shadow, the car
pulling away immediately. The two women sat in silence for a while,
Lady Fogg seemingly lost in deep thought as she nibbled absent-
mindedly on the end of her holder. Wisps of smoke trailed from her
mouth. Her guest regarded her warily.
"You did very well this evening," Lady Fogg said, finally
breaking the silence. "The Master will be quite pleased I'm sure."
"That's kind of you to say Milady. I live to serve the
"As do I, Lady Shadow, as do I. The question is how best do
we serve him? I feel that there are too many divided loyalties in
Castle Black. The lower ladies, such as you, are too distracted by
the intrigues of The Countess and the Baroness. I think we would be
much more effective if we were more… united."
"What did you have in mind?"
"Nothing radical my dear, simply one woman sitting at Lord
Morpheus' side, revered above all others."
"Isn't that the Princess?"
"The Princess Beauty is a child; a beautiful and cunning
child, but a child nonetheless. Our Lord needs a woman at his side."
"And that would be you?"
"Naturally," replied the Duchess.
"Perhaps we shouldn't be having this discussion. After all, I
belong to the Countess. It isn't proper to ask me to betray my
"You have no choice my love," the fur-clad femme told her.
She held up her hand and opened it revealing the tiny pellet in her
hand. "The die has been cast."
She threw the fog pellet to the floor of the car and it began
to expel thick, white clouds of paralyzing gas. Lady Shadow tried
vainly to escape the billowing mist but it was everywhere, filling
the inside of the car. Soon she stopped struggling and sat still,
staring straight ahead. The windows of the Rolls slid down
ventilating the gas. Lady Fogg took her time readying a fresh
cigarette in her holder and lighting it before addressing the frozen
"There darling, that wasn't too unpleasant I trust. I've been
told that succumbing to my paralyzing fog can be quite pleasurable.
Did you enjoy being fogged my dear?"
"You can't do this," Lady Shadow insisted.
"Really dear, stop saying foolish things," the Duchess chided
her. "You are quite helpless with your sexy little body unable to
move. Rather the way you used your `Shadow Mist' to incapacitate Mr.
Bond, isn't it?"
She saw the surprised look on Octopussy's face at the mention of her
perfume and smiled.
"You thought that was a secret did you?" she queried. "Well you will
find that you have no secrets from me." She took a puff on her holder
and smiled as the smoke drifted from her mouth. "In fact, I'll bet I
know what you've been up to upstairs with my James," she continued as
she slid a leather gloved hand between the smuggler's lovely legs.
"Your James," Lady Shadow whispered as realization and fear spread
over her face.
"Of course the impostor Bond is mine you fool," the Duchess taunted
her. "Do you think anything happens in the Kingdom without my
knowledge? I know all about your little predilections as well slut. I
know you love to be fucked in the ass."
The paralyzed woman's face had taken on an expression of absolute
horror. She couldn't believe that she had fallen into the Duchess'
trap, and that the man she had been sleeping with had betrayed her.
"Don't look so sad dearie; you're not the first gal to lose
her mind a bit over a man with a big cock. And you're in luck,
because I love to watch my slaves getting fucked. And that's exactly
what you are now my slave."
"Never!" Lady Shadow insisted, drawing another evil smile
from her captor.
"Hmm, I think that once we fog your teenie-weenie little
mind, you'll be singing a different tune."
She stubbed out her finished cigarette and pulled a fresh one
from the shiny black case in her pocket. She held it up for Lady
Shadow to see before running it under her nose so that her victim
could smell its odd fragrance. She then fitted it into the holder and
lit it, all the while staring at the paralyzed femme sitting next to
The Duchess took a drag on the elegant holder and blew a
cloud at Lady Shadow's legs. The silvery smoke seemed to linger like
a fog above her stockings, finally settling and leaving a residue of
shimmering silver dust. Her immovable legs began to tingle strangely
where the drugged dust coated them.
"Feel good darling?" the Duchess inquired. "The smoke
contains a numbing agent, a soporific which will do the same thing to
your brain that you're feeling right now on those pretty gams. I call
it `mind-fogging gas'. Once you breathe it in, you will be remarkably
susceptible to any suggestions I make."
"The Countess won't just sit still while you kidnap and
brainwash her subjects."
"The Countess is an ignorant slut who can't think of anything
but her own pleasure. It will be a miracle if she even realizes it
when I make her one of my slaves."
"You'll end up wearing the white for this," Lady Shadow
"Somehow I doubt that dear," Lady Fogg replied as she gently
waved the holder under the frozen femme's face. The dangerous smoke
drifted slowly towards her, tickling her nose. The Duchess let her
get just a whiff before pulling the holder away.
"Any last words dear?" she taunted.
"My girls, they'll know," Lady Shadow tried desperately.
"If you are referring to the French sluts in the next car, I
assure you that my assistant Miss Barnes will take very good care of
them. Now if that is all, let's begin."
She put the holder up to her lips and took a shallow drag
letting the smoke drift casually from her mouth. She leaned in and
Meanwhile in the other car, Miss Barnes was indeed `taking
care of' Lady Shadow's hench-gals. The three women were sitting
silently in the back of the limo; the French girl's regarding the
English woman warily, while she studiously ignored them. In fact she
hardly seemed to realize that she wasn't alone as she sat reading a
The two nurses exchanged annoyed looks and raised eyebrows,
angry that they hadn't even been offered any refreshments. Sophia
started to voice a complaint but the conservatively dressed Sarah cut
her off with the wave of a hand. Finally she looked up from her
magazine and regarded the two women coolly.
"What is it?" she asked in the clipped tones of the British upper
"You could offer us some champagne!" Sophia declared icily. "You're
being very rude."
Miss Barnes' face softened and she put aside her magazine. "You're
right of course," she told them. "I'm being a bad hostess in not
seeing to the needs of my guests. And what you both need most is some
She pressed a hidden button on her armrest and green gas began to
billow from the vents in the floor of the car. The Brit then calmly
slipped a clear air-mask from her purse and put in on, while the two
French girls sought frantically to escape. Alas, the car was locked
and their feverish attempts to escape went for naught. First
Francesca and then Sophia succumbed to the Duchess' devilish fumes
and they slumped onto each other on the floor of the car. Miss Barnes
removed her mask as the car was ventilated and then immediately went
Not long after the vehicles pulled to a stop in a deserted airfield.
A private Gulfstream jet was waiting, engines already warmed
up. The Duchess climbed from her car and watched as the Prince was
removed from the ambulance and transferred to the plane. Lady Shadow
was asleep in the Rolls, still sleeping off the affects of her `mind-
fogging' gas. She would now do whatever the Duchess wished.
The ravishing royal watched as the jet taxied to the end of the dirt
runway and lifted off into the sky, bringing young William to his
date with Princess Beauty. Soon Lord Morpheus would be shifting his
attention to the colonies, to America, and there her well-laid plans
would begin to flourish. She watched until the plane was a distant
speck on the horizon before getting back into the car which then
drove off into the Scottish countryside.
Prince William was found eight days later in an opium den in a rather
seedy part of London. He was doped up and had been extensively
molested during his not so brief captivity. The press of course had a
field day when it was discovered that, despite the continent-wide
manhunt which the British Secret Service had undertaken, the
kidnapped royal had never left the United Kingdom and had been right
under their noses the entire time. This was in fact untrue, as
William had been transported to an out of the way villa high in the
German Alps, where he had been presented to Princess Beauty as a
present for her eighteenth birthday.
Beauty had been delighted to at last meet her Prince Charming and had
spent an enjoyable week with him, showing him why she had been
Europe's premier courtesan for several years. His well-reddened
backside gave in indication of what the Princess
considered `enjoyable'. In the several days since her return to
Castle Black, the teen temptresses' mood had gotten blacker and more
foul, much to the chagrin of her handmaiden and constant companion,
Gwen, a sixteen year-old child-like nymph with blonde hair that hung
in tiny ringlets around her angelic face, was usually one of the few
people who could soothe Beauty's legendary temper, typically with her
tongue between the Princess' legs. But it would be difficult for the
baby-faced blonde to manage that feat now as she was currently
hanging upside-down, skirt falling over her face, moaning into a ball-
gag as Beauty's other little friends thrashed her with riding crops.
Camilla and Campbell, the Duchess' naughty nieces, were stroking and
striking the bound lass gently, but Anastasia du Sommeil, the
Countess' adopted daughter, was laying into her with a ferocity that
her mother would appreciate and that fitted her Mistress' current
temperament perfectly. Just seventeen, Anastasia shared her mother's
fascination with women in bondage and her penchant for changing hair
colors (she was a redhead at the moment).
The Princess was sitting on a nearby sofa smoking a cigarette from a
short black holder while fingering the neatly shaven pussy of one of
her `pretties', a petite, young Asian girl clad in the shimmering
white diaphanous gown that all of her sex slaves were required to
wear. Her expression was cross and her touch less than gentle as she
gave occasional advice to her crop-wielding acolytes.
The door opened and a stern-faced woman of middle years, her gray-
streaked blonde hair pulled back into a conservative bun, entered the
room. Madame Pussey had been the Countess' governess when the world-
renowned fetish queen was but a child and had stayed on to be
something like a den-mother to the many beautiful young girls
employed at her exclusive Paris brothel. She was therefore quite
familiar with Beauty's hot temper and was the one person besides
Morpheus himself who did not put up with any nonsense from her.
"There you are," she exclaimed in exasperation. "I've been looking
everywhere for you. You've been told not to come down to the dungeon
without alerting me first. Now come, all of you, Lord Morpheus has
called an emergency meeting of the entire court. Everyone is waiting
in the Throne Room."
Angry as she was, Beauty knew better than to get on Madame Pussey's
bad side. Still she took her time rising and arranging her voluminous
satin skirt just so before signaling her fetching followers to
release their struggling playmate. In short order the five young
ladies, one rubbing her stinging bum tenderly, were following the
older woman upstairs trailed by a throng of white-gowned servants.
Everyone at Castle Black was required to wear white, a sign of their
servitude to Lord Morpheus. Sleep slaves, like those accompanying the
Princess, could wear nothing but that color, a practice known
as `wearing the white'. Other servants, such as Mistress of the House
Lady Mac Lethe and her daughters were allowed a touch of black in
their otherwise snowy livery.
Lower royals such as Lady Shadow dressed in outfits which included
both black and white, and the High Ladies - The Duchess, The Countess
and the Baroness clad themselves nearly completely in black, with
white accents such as a bow or a ribbon. Only Lord Morpheus and the
Princess could clothe themselves in all black.
The doors to the Throne Room stood open and the loud buzz of voices
spilling into the hall indicated that was indeed full. Still Beauty
stopped just shy of the entry and held out a leather-gloved hand. One
of her pretties leapt forward and gave her a shiny, black makeup
Ignoring Madame Pussey's icy glare, the Princess took her time gazing
at her perfect reflection before snapping the compact shut and
tossing it back at the servant. Finally she gave a regal nod of her
head and the older blonde stepped into the room to announce her
arrival. Beauty waited several moments after hearing her name before
sweeping grandly into the great hall that served as Lord Morpheus'
The crowd hushed when Beauty appeared in the doorway. All eyes were
on her as she walked down the black velvet carpet that led to a
raised dais at the other end of the room. Her Master was there
sitting atop a massive throne of carved ebony wood and looking king-
like in a cloak of jet-black velvet. Standing behind him at his right
hand was Lady Winter, the famous `White Wolf' of the Russian mob and
Morpheus' head of security.
She was the only woman in the room wearing only white who wasn't
also a slave. It was her habit to garb herself in spotless snow-white
leather and she wore it with the confidence of a woman who knows that
she is nobody's slave. In a society where wearing black was an honor,
she made white look positively regal. Lady Winter was flanked on
either side by Morpheus' personal bodyguards, Mr. Knight and Mr.
Dark, large men in black suits and sunglasses who would gladly give
their lives for their Master's. The truth was that they had no
choice; they had been brutally conditioned to do the Sandman's
The Princess approached the dais, passing many subjects along the
way. There were various Lower Ladies and their followers lined along
the walls on both sides. They were all dropped down in deep curtsies
as Beauty passed. There were also more slaves, men and women alike,
gowned in white and kneeling prostrate on the floor, their foreheads
pressed into the cool black tiles.
She went by others as well; Sandman's Nod Squad – blank-eyed, night-
shirted goons that he used for muscle; his Pillow Pets – basically
beautiful sex slaves, but ones he trusted to perform crimes for him
as well; and dispersed through the crowd, Lady Winter's Wolves,
gorgeous but deadly femmes that acted as the Court's security team.
Lastly, just in front of the dais on Morpheus' right, were the three
High Ladies surrounded by their considerable entourages.
Princess Beauty - resplendent in a nineteenth century-era, black
satin ball-gown, her perfect breasts threatening to spill out of the
tight, corset-style top - ignored them all. Her eyes, flashing in
anger, were locked onto her Master's face. She was quite put out by
his insistence that she could not keep the Prince to play with.
Sandman rose as his favorite approached and offered his hand to help
her up the steps. She took it wordlessly and settled into her seat on
his left without looking at him. Her escorts stopped in front of
their chairs to left of the raised platform and waited for the Lord
to sit. He stood in front of the Princess and bent down to kiss her
delicate, opera-gloved hand. The rich, soft leather smelled pungently
of her perfume and her Oriental slave's pussy and he quickly found
himself getting an erection. If Beauty noticed this she gave no
indication and continued to avoid his gaze.
He gave a small sigh and sat down. The Princess had been quite
distant with him lately, even during their formerly passionate
lovemaking which had been becoming a less and less frequent
occurrence. She seemed much more interested in obtaining
more `pretties' for her collection, than in his own nefarious plans
which used to excite her as much as they did him. Still he knew that
she would be thrilled to hear what he had to say today.
He looked out over the gathered assemblage, his criminal court that
numbered almost one hundred strong if one included servants. If his
plans went smoothly those numbers would grow ever larger until he
reigned supreme over an army of sleepy slaves, eager to do his evil
He raised a hand and the excited murmuring ceased, all eyes looking
up at him expectantly.
"Hello my friends, today is an auspicious occasion, an important step
in the growth of my empire as the most successful criminal
organization in the world. I have decided that it is time to bring my
plans to fruition. Thanks to the hard work of my High Ladies - the
Countess, the Baroness, Duchess Fogg – we have managed to draw a
curtain over Europe. I control the major portion of smuggling, white-
slavery, and high-priced prostitution on this continent. Now we will
turn our attention to the colonies. Already, Lady Midnight is in
America preparing for my triumphant return. Soon I will put Batman to
bed for ever, and the rest of the masked meddlers will trade in their
silly spandex costumes for the white gowns of my sleep-slaves. Gotham
City, nay all of that bloated country, is a ripe fruit just waiting
to be plucked and soon we will taste its juices. Prepare yourselves
for a trip my loyal subjects, for the conquest of America is nigh!
Soon all the world will sleep at the feet of Lord Morpheus!"
The Throne Room erupted in applause, as his ladies all rose to their
feet. He knew that they had all been waiting for this; a chance to
plunder the States of its wealth and beauty, and most importantly to
subjugate Batman and Robin and all of the other caped clowns that
infested that country like a plague. One person in particular he knew
was dying to get her hands on the Boy Wonder.
He glanced to his left at the Princess. Beauty was standing with the
rest, beaming at him in obvious pleasure. It had made all of the hard
work worthwhile. Yes, soon the Gotham underworld would call him King
Morpheus and the raven-tressed temptress at his side would be his
Lady Midnight laid sprawled across a bed in the display area of the
newly renovated Lady Midnight Lingerie and Luxury Bedding Emporium.
Adrianna and several of her other girls were likewise arrayed on
various other pieces of comfortable furniture. The upscale underwear
shop was providing a front for the most successful crime-ring in
The pale, willowy woman with jet-black hair and midnight-blue eyes
didn't look like an accomplished jewel-thief, but that is exactly
what the woman formerly known as Nocturna was. That and also a member
of Lord Morpheus' Royal Court. She had been sent ahead to Gotham to
prepare for his arrival and she was doing just that.
In addition to their thieving activities, she and her gang were
readying hideouts and cover-stories for their criminal comrades who
would be joining them shortly. They had also been assigned to kidnap
a few key individuals that their master would have use for. Tonight's
gathering was in anticipation of just such a crime.
There was noise at the back door and Lady Midnight sat up. If it was
anyone but a member of her gang she would have been alerted by her
sentries. Sure enough Olivia, a cocoa-skinned Brazilian lovely,
waltzed into the room accompanied by a hot young blonde whose
magnificent body was poured into an absolutely wicked-looking blue
The self-confident young lady sat down on the edge of one of the beds
and crossed her long, silky legs. "Nice place," she commented,
running a hand along the smooth black satin sheets. "I've been saying
for months that this town needs a new place to get good Fetish-wear.
You simply can't trust the quality of something you buy on-line. I'm
Angel, by the way."
`Angel' was actually just the girl's club name, Lady Midnight knew.
Her real one was Gina Santangelo and her father was one of the most
feared gangsters in the city. Angel herself was famous for being able
to get anything someone might want, anything in the world… for a
price. What Lady Midnight wanted tonight was the security codes to a
very secure building in downtown Gotham. And the blonde was the only
one who could provide them.
"It is a pleasure Angel," the pale brunette told her. "I've heard
quite a lot about you. Were you able to get the codes?"
"Of course Lady Midnight. Do you have the money?" The girl was
certainly very confident. She knew that nobody would mess with
Vincent Santangelo's daughter. Or at least she thought she knew.
"Pay her Adrianna," instructed the brunette. Her slut picked up a
briefcase and brought it over to the teen. She opened up the case so
that Angel could see that her half-million dollars was indeed there.
Satisfied, the blonde reached down the front of her latex dress and
pulled a disk from between her cleavage. She handed it to Olivia who
in turn gave it to another girl sitting at a desk with a laptop.
The bob-haired blonde inserted the disk and began typing.
"Are we happy Silk?" asked Lady Midnight.
The blonde turned and nodded. Angel had been watching the exchange
and now stood up.
"It was a pleasure doing business with you Lady Midnight. Will there
be anything else?"
The jewel-thief stood as well and reached out towards the
blonde. "Just this," she replied and a stream of gas shot from the
antique ring that adorned her finger.
Angel sighed and sank back onto the bed.
"Were you followed Olivia?"
"Yes Mistress, there is a black Mercedes with two men in it parked
"Very well, we'll have to deal with them first. You stay here with
She started to head towards the door, her gang of gals falling in
behind, except for Olivia who slid onto the bed next to the sleeping
She turned back and caught the Brazilian whore's eye. "Oh and Olivia,
make sure she cums. Often."
The Latina lovely smiled and began to undress their captive as the
other women left.
Rocco and Tony `the fish' were sitting in their parked car outside
the lingerie superstore. Gina had gone in with a hot-looking
brunette. If history was any guide the girls could be in there for a
long time. Tony eased his seat back and told Rocco to keep an eye on
the door, before closing his own eyes to get a nap. It would be a
longer one than he expected.
Rocco a big, dumb brute with a gorilla-like body and a face to match
saw a pair of cuties approaching the car. They stopped about ten feet
away and began making a show of putting on their makeup. One of them
dropped her purse and slowly bent over to pick it up, exposing her
shapely ass underneath a remarkably short skirt. She stood back up
and pulled a cigarette case out of the purse and strolled over to the
car, where Rocco was leering at them.
"Hey big boy, got a light?" cooed the girl as she leaned down towards
the open window and brought the cigarette up to her lips.
Before he could even answer, the femme blew into the cigarette and a
cloud of green powder flew into his stupidly grinning face. He
slumped down into his seat as the other girl circled the car towards
the driver's side. Tony was snoring slightly and she was careful
not to wake him as she pulled a syringe from her purse. His eyes
fluttered open when he felt the pinch of the needle but the drugs
worked quickly and he too succumbed, a slight smile on his face.
A black limo pulled alongside the car and both of the girls climbed
into the back before it sped away.
Dr. Alison Chambers was working late yet again. She was extremely
close to making a major breakthrough in her research and requested a
meeting with her boss to procure funding for her next phase. But Mr.
Bruce Wayne, President and CEO of Wayne Enterprises had denied her the
money she would need to complete the project.
He had called it `dangerous' and ordered her to discontinue her
research. Dangerous! A car could be dangerous in the wrong hands. Her
drug would prove to be the most significant development in the
history of the field of hypno-therapy. Couldn't the fool see how
important it was? Well even if he couldn't, she was sure that there
would be others who could. The Dr. didn't know how right she was.
She heard a noise in the outer office. Mr. Wayne had left hours ago
and even her assistant Jessica had left not long ago. Perhaps the
talented intern had forgotten something.
"Jess, is that you?" she called. There was no answer. She began to
walk towards the door.
She peeked out through the doorway and saw the slim brunette sitting
at her desk.
"Jess, why didn't you answer me?" she asked in annoyance as she
approached her employee from behind. The girl still didn't speak.
She put her hand on her shoulder and turned the girl towards her. She
slumped forward, obviously unconscious.
"Jess!" exclaimed Dr. Chambers, now concerned, as she stepped back.
She bumped into someone behind her and before she could cry out a
strong hand clamped down over her mouth. She reached up and tried to
pry the hand, encased in tight black leather, away from her face. A
strange odor filled her nostrils and she could tell that the glove
had been coated in some sort of chemical.
She became lightheaded quickly and knew that she was in trouble. Her
eyes took on a pleading look and she mewled into her hand-gag, a
pitiful whine. Lady Midnight however was not a woman who took pity.
The villainess waited patiently, content in the knowledge that her
soporific-soaked gloves were slowly but surely sending her victim to
She listened as the Dr.'s breathing slowed, her muscles becoming more
and more limp, until she was holding up dead weight. Her girls came
into the room pushing a stretcher. They took the sleeping woman from
their Mistress and efficiently loaded her on to the cart, strapping
her down in case she woke.
"Take the girl as well," commanded the pale-skinned Royal
Purloiner. "She may prove to be useful."
Jessica was piled on top of her boss and wheeled from the room. They
took the elevator to the lobby and walked past the security guards
who had already been put down for their naps. The limo was waiting
outside to whisk away Lady Midnight and her unfortunate prey.
The plan was progressing nicely, and soon Lord Morpheus would be
arriving to begin it's implementation. Soon would begin Gotham's
"I want him Morpheus," the gorgeous brunette complained with a pretty
pout. "You promised that I could have him, and my doll-house is
almost finished. I need pretties to fill it."
"And you shall pet," the silver-haired gentleman assured his
lovely young companion.
He cut a dashing figure in his dark blue Armani suit – tall,
handsome, refined. The girl, for she was but eighteen, was a walking
wet dream. Five foot seven inches tall, with long legs, luscious
tits, and a perfect heart-shaped ass. Glossy jet-black hair that
spilled past her shoulders framed an angel's face, which featured
large violet eyes behind thick, dark lashes; pretty, pouty lips that
seemed always ready for a kiss; and a slim, slightly upturned nose
that gave her an arrogant, aristocratic air.
Today that face was half-hidden behind a white fishnet veil, which
was attached to a matching pillbox hat. Her body, which set men's
hearts to pounding, was wrapped in a luxurious lynx coat. She held a
smoldering cigarette in her white leather-gloved hand. She brought it
to her ruby lips and took an impatient puff, exhaling a smooth stream
out the open rear window of the Rolls Royce.
"I could just wrap him up in my fur and smoke him to sleep," she
purred evilly. "The little bird wouldn't even know what hit him."
"I'm sure you could Princess," replied the man who called himself
Morpheus. "And Batman and the rest of the caped fools would be
instantly alerted to our presence."
He watched Robin, the Boy Wonder, standing across the street
next to the Batmobile. Batman was nowhere to be seen. It would be
quite simple to kidnap the boy right now. Certainly Princess Beauty
would be thrilled, infatuated as she was with the younger caped
crusader. But the time was not yet right. There was still some
preparation that needed to be done before `Operation Sandbag' was
"Patience, my dear, patience," he counseled the teen temptress. "Soon
enough, my entire Royal Court will be assembled in Gotham City, and
then we will begin our conquest. I will personally put Batman to bed –
permanently. And then Robin, and Batgirl, and anyone else you want,
will be your playthings."
The brunette beauty smiled at her sire. She took a final drag on her
cigarette and tossed it out the window. "Farewell for now Robin
dearest," she sighed exhaling. "I'll be back to get you soon."
"Problems Batman?" asked the Boy Wonder when his partner returned.
"Possibly Robin," he replied seriously. "Commissioner Gordon just got
off the phone with Interpol, the European police organization. They
have solid information that the European super-criminal the Sandman
is in Gotham City."
"Holy unwelcome guests Batman! Wasn't the Sandman deported after
trying to steal J. Pauline Spaghetti's fortune?"
"True Robin. Back when Nightwing, the original Robin, was my partner,
the Sandman unleashed his somnambulistic schemes on the good citizens
of Gotham. Of course we thwarted him then, and we'll do the same if
he shows his face again."
"Now, let's get back to the Batcave. The Bat-computer may have some
ideas of possible hideouts."
"And it is with great pleasure that I introduce our new head of
research, fresh from her latest position as head of the Swiss Sleep
Institute, Dr. Ilsa von Schlaf."
Finishing the introduction, Dr. Jeffrey Irons the director of the
Sleep Research Center of Gotham City, stepped back and allowed the
beautiful German woman to move to the podium. He wasn't used to such
a large press contingent, but Fraulein Ilsa was something of a
celebrity due to her status as a former fashion model and her
continued involvement in that industry.
Dr. von Schlaf, looking sexy in an exquisitely tailored black leather
skirt-suit, looked out over the assembled crowd. Her brown hair was
pulled back into a tight bun, which high-lighted her high cheek-bones
and aristocratic features. She gave a short address in fluent English
that hinted at her fine Swiss boarding-school education.
"I will now take questions," she announced.
There were the usual questions about her odd career change, giving up
modeling to become a chemist, which she answered with her usual rote
replies. She certainly couldn't tell them the truth; that her fetish
for seeing people knocked out by sleeping gas had led her to learn
all that she could about soporifics. Or that her presence here was an
ominous omen that many of Gotham's most prominent citizens would soon
be taking extended naps.
She extricated herself from the press-conference as quickly and
delicately as possible, eager to begin her new job.
Dr. Irons lead her to his office and closed the door behind them.
Once his lovely new employee was comfortably ensconced in one of the
leather chairs across from his desk, he sat down himself. He was very
pleased already at the publicity Dr. von Schlaf was providing.
The Baroness, Lord Morpheus' Royal Apothecary, a title which did not
appear on her resume, pulled a silver cigarette case from the pocket
of her fitted leather jacket. Dr. Irons watched as she extracted a
black, gold-filtered Sobraine and lit it.
"Um, Dr. I realize that things are a little different in Europe, but
there is no smoking allowed in this building."
She fixed him with an arrogant stare and exhaled a cloud of smoke
towards him. "There will be some changes around here darling."
"Changes?" he asked waving the smoke out of his face. "What do you
"Shush darling," she commanded regally. "I'm trying to smoke you to
She stood and sent blew smooth stream of dreamily scented sleepy-
smoke directly into his face. His expression quickly relaxed and he
settled back into his chair. She came around the desk and sat down on
"Now listen closely darling," she purred. "For starters, your entire
nursing staff will be let go. I have my own girls to replace them.
Next, smoking will most certainly be allowed. You will get a hard-on
every time you see me or one of my nurses enjoying a relaxing
She rubbed the front of his trousers and saw that the message had
already gotten through on that account. He was fully aroused.
"Excellent. Now let's see about the rest of the doctors. Bring them
to me one at a time. I want to make sure that the staff is well
rested, because we are about to be inundated with patients."
"Sleepy," murmured Dr. Irons.
"Yes darling, soon there will be quite a few people in this town who
are going to be very sleepy indeed."
She picked up his phone and handed it to him. "Now, call my next
victim. There's plenty of sleep to go around."
He began to dial. "Dr. Jackson? Please come to my office."
He hung up and looked to his new employee, who had just become his
new Mistress. She performed a sexy French inhale and sent a lazy
cloud drifting into his face. He slumped over onto his desk. The
Baroness rose and waltzed over to the door. After a moment there was
a knock and a tall, black man came in.
"Good afternoon Dr.," she greeted him, raising the cigarette back up
to her lips. "Can I offer you a nap?"
She exhaled. And nap he did.
Douglas Winchester III hurried across the lobby, hailing somebody to
hold the elevator. He just made it, squeezing into the crowded car
and frustratedly checking his watch for the thousandth time. He was
late, through no fault of his own, and furious about it. Imagine, a
top-level executive being summoned to an emergency board-meeting as
if he were a naughty schoolboy being called to the headmaster's
"Bitch," he muttered under his breath, not for the first time.
Finally, after an eternity, the elevator arrived at the penthouse
floor and he stepped into the reception area of EtherGen Inc., one of
the world's largest pharmaceutical firms. His fellow board-members
were already there, by the looks of some they had been waiting for
He approached a glum-looking gentleman in a bowtie.
"What does she want this time Thatcher?" he asked of his colleague.
`She' meant Simone Vanderbilt, President, CEO, and Chairman of the
Board for EtherGen. The `Bitch of the Boardroom' was her unofficial
nickname and she was famous for last-minute meetings such as this.
Thatcher Gearhart shrugged and gave Winchester a disconsolate look as
if to say `I just work here'. Disgusted by his fellow's surrender, he
approached the receptionist's desk. If they were going to be ordered
to be here, at least they shouldn't have to wait.
The receptionist was a new girl, a far cry from the gray-haired old
harridan that usually occupied the desk. This one was a young blonde
with a gorgeous pair of ta-tas, advantageously displayed by her low-
cut blouse. Still, not even a set like those were going to soothe his
"Where is Ms. Vanderbilt?" he demanded. "We were told to be here at
10am and it's already 10:25. How long are we to be kept waiting?"
"Why don't you have a seat like a good boy, hmm?" the blonde replied
sweetly. "You will be summoned when she has use for you."
"What?!" he sputtered. "Now you listen here young lady…"
His feeble rant was interrupted when the doors to the Boardroom
opened. A pretty young woman with short, sassy black hair and a
short, sassy maroon leather skirt paired with matching knee-high
boots came into the lobby.
"We are ready for you now gentleman," she announced in the clipped
accent of the British upper-class. "If you would be so kind as to
step inside for your instructions…"
She stood aside and the twelve men filed into the conference room,
some muttering under their breath, most notably Douglas Winchester.
The muttering quickly turned to confused silence when the men entered
Sitting in Ms. Vanderbilt's customary spot at the head of the table
was a tall, silver-haired gentleman in an expensive-looking navy-blue
suit. Their company president, the usually frosty blonde, was sitting
on his lap! And giggling! These men had never seen their boss so much
as smile and there she was giggling like a schoolgirl.
Her clothing was also quite unusual for her - a white skirt-suit that
was much sexier than anything they were used to. The skirt was
extremely short, short enough to see the tops of her white stockings
and her gold satin garters. The jacket was unbuttoned a tad too far
as well, giving a nice view of her gold satin bra.
When they got over their shock they noticed another woman, an elegant
brunette in a white silk blouse and pearls, sitting to the mystery
man's right. After closing the doors, the young woman in boots took
the chair to his left.
The wealthy executives all sat staring at the unusual behavior of
their boss. After several moments, the man on whose lap she was being
dandled whispered into her ear. Her manner changed abruptly and she
stood and faced her board-members.
"Gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice. I have several
important announcements that will affect you both as board-members
and shareholders of EtherGen. Effective immediately I will be
resigning my position as Chairman, to be replaced by Dr. Morpheus.
Lady Fiona Fogg, Duchess of Bedfordshire will be taking the position
of President and Miss Colby Carrington will be the new Executive Vice
President of Recruiting."
She smiled at the seated man next to her who nodded for her to go
on. "Furthermore," she continued, "your services will no longer be
necessary. In front of you are contracts, releasing you from your
employment here and transferring your EtherGen stock to Dr. Morpheus."
The men began reading the documents in front of them, concern growing
on their faces.
"This is preposterous!" declared Winchester. "These shares are worth
a hundred times what you're offering!"
His fellows joined him in voicing their displeasure.
Dr. Morpheus pulled a cigar from the inside pocket of his suit-
jacket. He raised his other hand and the hubbub quieted down. He
leaned towards the girl on his left who produced a gold butane
lighter for his cigar. He slowly brought it to life and then turned
back towards the twelve angry men. He gazed at them serenely his left
hand casually moving between Ms. Vanderbilt's legs, causing her to
shiver in pleasure.
"Gentleman, I realize that this is an unusual situation," he told
them as he fingered their boss. "To make this up to you, I will be
sending you all on a trip - to the land of Nod."
He nodded to Colby, a recent grad of the Duchess' Charm School, who
pulled out a small remote. She pressed a button and pale, pink gas
began to drift up from underneath the table. The executives began
dropping like flies, either sinking back into their chairs or falling
forward onto the table. Of all of them, only one managed to get out
of his seat and make a run for the doors.
Alas, escape was not to be had for the bashful, bow-tied Thatcher
Gearhart. He fumbled with the door handled but it wouldn't budge. It
had obviously been locked from the outside. He banged feebly on the
doors, but there was nobody there to come to his aid.
Sandman smiled and handed his cigar to Colby. The budding moll took
it and approached the frantic businessman from behind. He heard her
and spun around, his back pressed into the door.
"Please," he whined. "You don't have to do this."
"Now don't be such a baby," chided the Brit. "You'll feel ever so
refreshed after a nice nap."
She brought the cigar to her lips, the tip glowing orange. She pulled
it away, a heavy trail of grey-blue smoke drifting from her open
"Now how about a goodnight kiss," she purred in a smoky voice as she
leaned towards him.
Thatcher closed his eyes in fear as her lips closed over his own. He
felt her warm breath as the cigar smoked washed over him. The smoke
was sweeter than he would have thought and mingled nicely with her
alluring perfume. He felt his lips opening, yielding to her soft,
probing tongue. He sighed when the kiss was over and stood with his
"How romantic," sneered the Duchess. "Colby, be a dear and finish him
off. We have business to discuss and a company to run."
Ever the obedient employee, Colby held the cigar in his waiting face
and squeezed it slightly in just the right place. A cloud of bluish
gas billowed from the tip, enveloping Thatcher's head. He slid to the
floor and lay sprawled there while Colby returned to the table.
Morpheus had stood and had Ms. Vanderbilt pushed over the desk, her
gold satin panties pulled down to her knees. The board of directors
for EtherGen had become revived enough to suit his purposes and
watched blank-eyed as he began to fuck their former president.
"Now gentleman, if you would be so kind as to sign the papers before
you, we can conclude this transaction shortly."
They picked up their pens mechanically and began adding their
signatures, in effect signing their fortunes over to the devious
Doctor of Dreams. When they were done, Miss Carrington circled around
collecting the contracts.
"Excellent," announced the Sandman. "Good sirs, you are now released
from your duties. Why don't you all get some rest."
He snapped his fingers and they once again fell fast asleep.
"As for you," he told the woman he was doing from behind, "I have
decided to keep you on after all. I'll be needing a secretary anyway."
The Duchess and Colby laughed at the once powerful woman who had been
reduced to a plaything for Sandman's whims.
"What about Mr. Gearhart?" Colby asked nodding to her sleeping victim
on the floor.
"We'll take him to my clinic," Sandman announced. "He obviously has
been working too hard and needs a long rest. A stay at my solarium
under my personal care is just what the doctor ordered. Phase one is
nearly complete. Soon I will be a well-respected member of both the
business and medical community here in Gotham, and then I will be
able to put my master plan into action. Duchess, let the rest of the
Court know, there will be a meeting this evening. We have much to
The Royal femme nodded her assent and swept out of the room, attended
by her able assistant, leaving Sandman to finish sodomizing Ms.
Vanderbilt in the presence of her dazed directors.
"We have much to discuss as well," Lady Fogg told Colby once they
were out of the room. "How are the preparations proceeding?"
"The slaves that you requested have been approached and properly
fogged. They will be quite easy for you to control."
"Excellent," purred the Duchess evilly, "there are a few Ladies in Court
who will soon find themselves likewise under my control."
Colby nodded in agreement and followed her Mistress onto the
elevator, Simone Vanderbilt's orgasmic screams echoing in the