MST4K: Episode Six- Master Yes (James Bond fanfic)
Posted: 2006-11-27 03:01pm
A longer one, so I'm going to split it into two parts to make reading it easier.
------
Mordancy Sarcasm Theater 4000
By Tim
All belongs to whom it belongs to. Also, please don't sue me. Thank you
In the not too distant future...
(Tim pops up and blasts the opening sequence with a missile)
Tim: Let's get on with it, shall we?
Satellite of Lust, Sometime during the continuum.
Tim: So poofy, ready for another rousing round of guest bashing?
Graham: Another Misty? How about we cancel our show too?
Tim: Sorry, we have nine years and eleven more months till we can cancel.
Sailor Moon: I am here to fight... Wait, this isn't the negaverse!
Graham: Give the girl a prize!
Artlu: Stop that, and get into the theater, we have another lemon fiction this time, for your reading dipleasure.
Tim: Artlu, you really need to work on sounding menacing. and another thin- (sirens and alarms cut him off)
(Tim and Graham run into the theater, grabbing a ponytail each)
The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive · Story List · Author List · Category List
Story: Master Yes · Author: The Flying Pen
This story copyright (c) 1997, by The Flying Pen. Any commercial use is expressly forbidden without the permission of the author. Permission is granted for one hardcopy to be made for private use.
Graham: Hey, wait, Tim don't you...?
Tim: Yup, I decided we had to get away from anime for a while so I sent this one into Artie with a bad review. I knew he'd fall for the bait. Anyway they've also got a good one called "Serena's enslavement."
SM (Sailor Moon, not that kind of SM): huh, what? HEY!
Graham: shut up and start flinging slams, it's starting
Master Yes
Graham: A Bond title if I ever heard one.
Tim: Obviously a parody of the "first" bond movie, Dr. No.
Graham: Which reminds me, how was your stay at the Casino Royale?
Tim: Pretty good, I met the british girl again, you know, the one who came from Russia with love?
Graham: You mean the spy who loved me?
Tim: Yes, but remember, she was in her majesty's secret service.
Graham: her last words to me were "If I can't have you, then the world is not enough"
Tim: Well, you only live twice, so make the best out of what you have.
Graham: But tommorow never dies, so don't give up hope.
Tim: And never say never again. Which reminds me, I think I'll go down to the harem and have an octopussy.
Graham: How do you do that without getting a "goldfinger"?
Tim: Just call me "thunderballs"
Graham: You going to go with the girl that likes to be near your "goldeneye"?
Tim: I am the man with the golden gun to her eyes.
Graham: Yeah isn't she the one that always tries to get you to give her a moonraker?
Tim: Ahhh, yes. This gal, she's quite the view to a kill.
Graham: And the life in the harem is, well, live and let die.
Tim: Diamonds are forever, but a good slave doesn't last that long.
Graham: hold it. I forgot the final Bond title.
Tim: It's License To Kill, but I prefer License to Boink...
A parody by The Flying Pen, with apologies to Ian Fleming, who probably wanted to write his 007 stories this way...
Tim: you mean on the computer?
Graham: Groan...
Jennifer Cross sat at the bar sipping one of those fruity island drinks. She had saved up for this "week in paradise," and while the weather and the scenery had been as advertised, one thing hadn't: the men. The bartender had hoped to find one of those gorgeous single hunks for a little bit of fun, and possibly more, but so far, the only men she'd met were workers at the resort, natives,
Tim: The guy with a palm tree on his head,
or married and with their wives. Still, her tan was getting deeper, and this was great compared to winter back home. Her long, thick, rich brown hair had been braided by one of the locals but it still reached the top of her rear end. Jennifer took a lot of pride in her hair, although her brown eyes and smile were certainly very attractive. She had hoped to work off a few pounds while here, but she didn't think that was going to happen. Her body was soft and rounded; she wasn't overweight, but she wasn't thin, either. She turned her head, casually scanning the resort's club. Then she saw him. Tall, muscular, definitely under 30, with the air of a successful man about him. Her heart skipped a beat. No ring.
Graham: So he's not a boxer?
Tim: Nope, definitely not caninistic, like our companion here...
SM: (looks confused for a moment) HEY, I AM NOT A DOG!
Tim: Tell it to the purebreds, ya mutt.
She almost stopped breathing as the man approached the bar. He sat next to her and ordered a beer. Jennifer dropped her cigarettes on the floor, and their eyes met as both of them bent over to retrieve them. "Hi," he said, handing her the pack. "I believe these are yours." She blushed and almost hyperventilated. God, he was gorgeous... and those eyes... He seemed not to notice her infatuation, continuing, "And you are?"
"In love." Jennifer immediately turned bright red as her thought came out before she could stop it. I wonder if tans hide blushing well? "Umm... Jennifer," she recovered. "I'm here on vacation from Chicago."
"Chicago? So am I!" he replied, smiling. "On vacation from the windy wintry weather. My name's Jeff. I work for the commuter agency." She was electrified by her luck. Meeting a fellow Chicagoan this far from home. A gorgeous, single one. "How long have you been here, Jennifer?"
"Two days. It's really nice, but I wish I had brought a friend. The brochures sort of touted this--"
Graham: As better than hell?
Tim: better than a root canal while dancing the cancan in a tuxedo on top of a hippo singing opera?
SM: There's no way I can top that one!
"--As a single's paradise. 'A week in paradise' with other healthy, happy singles," Jeff grinned. "I got the same brochure and presentation. But to be honest, you're the first single I've met here who seems interesting. I've been here since last Saturday," he said. They spoke amiably about Chicago over drinks, then he invited her to have dinner. Jennifer, of course, accepted.
The conversation continued over the meal, and the band took the stand. "Jennifer, would you like to dance? I mean, it's no fun dancing by yourself," he smiled again. "It's kind of nice to have somebody to do things with here--even if we didn't arrive--together." She replied that that would be fun. They danced and had another drink; when the band slowed down, she instinctively wrapped herself around him. He accepted the invitation. After the song ended, Jennifer excused herself to go to the ladies' room, triumphantly thinking, "Yes!!! This is exactly what I came here for."
Tim: I give this one to you Graham
Graham: So she came to an exotic paradise just to go the bathroom?
SM: I thought she came to meet guys?
T & G: GRROOOAAANN!
She was flushed now, anticipating the next slow song, when she would look into his beautiful eyes and he would lean forward and they would kiss, starting a night of passion...
While she was gone, Jeff ordered another round of drinks. They arrived very quickly. Furtively looking towards the ladies' room, he produced a packet and poured a fine white powder into Jennifer's. When she returned, he proposed a toast. "Here's to new friends. Maybe I'll see you in Chicago sometime."
She was absolutely thrilled and drank heartily. He smiled again, that wonderful, brilliant, sexy smile. Jennifer felt the stirrings of lust more strongly. They danced some more, and the world began to spin for her. She felt carefree, wonderful, and very attracted to Jeff. After a few more songs, though, the world didn't stop spinning. She ordered a glass of water; where was it... she was not feeling very good. Jeff... Jeff was asking her... something... and his eyes... so pretty... dance... no... fresh air. Yes, thanks. She felt his arm help support her as she walked through quicksand. They left the club, into the warm air... ocean breeze... night... moon... night... dark... new moon?
Tim: My god! She's actually William Shatner in disguise!!!!
Jeff held onto Jennifer as she passed out. He hailed a cab. As he easily put the limp, unconscious girl into the back seat, he said two words: "The estate." The driver nodded and pulled away. The handsome young man returned to the lobby of the resort hotel, and walked up to an unmarked door. He swiped a plastic card through the reader, and went in, closing the door behind him.
Graham: It's not a bond movie without at least three secret doors in the lobby.
"Report."
"Number thirty-seven. Jennifer Cross is in transit."
"Excellent," the voice replied. "Number two, you may take thirty- seven to the watering hole--allow him his choice."
"Yes, master," a soft, feminine voice eagerly replied. A beautiful red-headed woman stepped out of the shadows. "Come with me," she said to Jeff, who replied, "Yes, Mistress. I must obey." She led him to an elevator and grinned wolfishly. "Kneel, and worship me," she commanded.
Tim: I bet you'd like to be in her place right now, eh, bunny? Specially if Darien was number one.
SM: Yeah, I wou... I mean NO!!!
Jeff knelt, kissed her boot, then her hand. Looking deeply into her sea-green eyes, he said, "I adore my Mistress, and my body is hers. I must obey my Mistress, because she is the ultimate. I will serve my Mistress, and her Master."
Graham: I've heard better lines and acting in a gradeschool play.
Number two smiled. "You may come now, number thirty-seven." She watched with amusement as the bulge in Jeff's shorts suddenly grew, making the head of his cock peek down one leg. His eyes crossed, he shuddered, and came all over his dock shoes with a groan. He sighed happily. "When the doors open, you will be allowed to choose any of the women there. After you have cleaned up, you will be able to get hard for the one you choose, and no one else. You will then be able to perform to your heart's desire until you are sated. Is that clear?"
Tim: No, I'd say that it's more translucent than clear.
"Yes, Mistress," the man blankly said. The redhead swiped her plastic card through the elevator's reader to send it to its deepest level.
Jennifer Cross opened her eyes. She had been dreaming of an island paradise and a gorgeous hunk... She looked around the room, still groggy, searching for her memory. The room was all-white--like a hospital. What had happened? Her voice didn't seem to work, either. She tried to get to her feet, but she couldn't move her legs--she couldn't move, period. A woman came into the room--a nurse, obviously-- even if she was blonde with big boobs and a narrow waist.
SM: You two are gonna say something about how all nurses look like that, aren't you?
Tim: Yup, we are.
Jennifer tried to speak again, but could only watch as the nurse clinically prepared an injection. Her body refused to move as the nurse approached, despite the powerful urge to run away. Jennifer tried to scream as the needle went into her neck, but no sound came out. The world instantly began to fade, becoming subtle colors dancing in front of her eyes. Everything seemed so--wavy. That was her last thought as her eyes opened wide and her mouth went slack.
The nurse left the room and dimmed the lights. She pressed a switch. The white walls of the room seemed to come alive with swirling and dancing colors. A voodoo drum beat began to play, and strangely musical, rhythmic chanting filled the air as Jennifer watched, spellbound. She began to hear her name chanted through the drums and the music... calling her... Jennifer... yes... Jennifer... new... Jennifer... obey... commands... Jennifer... must obey... yes... obey... watching... listening... obey... new... Jennifer...
Tim: SOMEBDY GET WILLIAM SHATNER OUT OF THIS FANFIC, NOW!!!!
The sounds and the lights that swirled around her had not stopped for several hours, but Jennifer was oblivious to time's passage as her reprogramming continued. A face... a voice... obey... must obey... Jennifer... slave... command... the face... the voice... master... Master... yes... desire... Master... only... Master... must obey.. Master... new Jennifer... number eighty-three... yes... I am... Master's... number eighty-three... lust... Master... obey... Master... slave... to obey... number-eighty three... lust... Master... must obey...
She was talking now, in this, the twelfth hour of the bizarre sound and light show. The drug that had paralyzed her earlier had worn off. Number-eighty three was free to move, but she didn't want to. "I will obey Master. I must obey Master." She continued to babble as the voice and picture of her master constantly flashed, embedded in the music and lights. He was irresistible. Her master. She was his slave, his number eighty-three; Jennifer was someone only other people knew. She was her master's number eighty-three; she would obey his commands. Masturbate. Yes, Master. Her hands frantically went to work as her master's voice urged her on... Yes, masturbate... for Master... ohh... god... Master... yes... yes... Master... obey... I am your slave... Master... Number-eighty three... slave... to Master... "Yes, Master... Yes, Master yes, Master, ohhh, YES! Master! Yes Master..." Number eighty- three's chants became sexually charged moans. She was sending herself to orgasm at her Master's bidding as she listened to his voice and saw his face... commanding her... a good slave... always obey... "YES--Master! YES! Master!! YES!! MASTER!!! YES!!!! MASTER!!! YESS!!! MASTER!!! YES!!!!" The last was screamed in ecstasy as the world swirled crazily around her, her body contorted and her consciousness was ripped away by a powerful orgasm. Number-eighty-three's world went black.
Graham: Why can't worlds ever go to more interesting colors, like green, or magenta?
The Astin-Martin barreled along the alpine road, hotly pursed by eight men aboard four custom-designed snowmobiles. The snowmobiles were slowly gaining on the Astin, traveling at an impossibly high rate of speed.
Tim: He could have said speed and he could have said rate of movement, so WHY did he say something dumb like “rate of speed?”
Automatic gunfire erupted from the smaller vehicles. The car slowed to take each curve, its driver obviously aware of the sheer thousand-foot drop on the other side of the guard rail. The snowmobiles, built for traction, had no such difficulty--at least until a black substance spewed from one of the tailpipes of the car. The lead snowmobile, running at maximum speed and now quickly closing on the Astin, slid; unfortunately, the road took a downhill, seventy-degree turn to the right at that point. The passenger leapt off before his vehicle and its driver ripped through the rail. He was immediately clobbered and sent flying off the edge by the next of the snowmobiles; it, and its partners made the turn, still giving chase.
Graham: Man, road rage just keeps getting worse and worse!
The car accelerated into the next sharp bend, and the road veered upwards. The next two snowmobiles watched their prey disappear temporarily. As they made the turn, they all saw the two small boulders heading their way and the open trunk lid of the car. One snowmobile veered sharply to the right, causing it to smash into the mountainside; another turned left, but lost traction and went careening into the chasm. The third driver couldn't make up his mind--one of the large rocks obliterated him, his passenger and about half his vehicle.
Tim: See, this is what happens when you allow government work crews to run rampant!
The driver of the Astin stopped at the top of the mountain, got out, rearranged his cuffs, and closed the trunk lid. "Q was right. Sometimes the old ideas are the best. And to think that I thought a catapult was next to useless." Suddenly, a helicopter swooped down from out of nowhere; somehow, it was hovering and the engine was almost perfectly silent. An amplified voice from the helicopter said, "Put your hands up." He complied.
SM: Could it tell him to strip too, he looks hot!
Tim: No, but it can tell him to do the Hokey pokey.
"So it ends, Mr. Bond," the voice gloated. "I presume you like my new toy, the stealth helicopter. It's a purchased Russian design; amazing what they'll do for money now." A man leaned out of one side, easily audible in the absence of rotor noise. "I wish to do the honors myself, because you have caused me no end of trouble." He pointed a gun at Bond. "Goodbye, Mr. Bond." The helicopter promptly exploded.
Tim: someone musta shoved a banana in his tailpipe.
"Goodbye," James Bond said as he watched the debris fall. "Surely you didn't think that police are the only ones who use radar."
Tim: Hold it. Wouldn't a stealth helicopter be undetectable by radar?
He had known the helicopter was around, although the mountains had made it impossible to target until it was out in the open. However, it had been Moneypenny's idea to include "Goodbye, Mr. Bond" as a trigger command for the headlight laser. He would have to thank her when he got back.
Graham: As he will in six seconds since the author didn't see fit to include a proper break here.
"Hello, James." Miss Moneypenny watched the tall, slender, dark- haired man enter her office for the millionth time. For the millionth time, his appearance gave her a sudden urge. Her pussy quivered. "You're late. As usual. He's waiting for you." She smiled at him. If only James would just take her and fuck her like...
Tim: Like Rush Limbaugh pontificates?
Graham: Like the president lies?
SM: Like darien and me did in the park last wee- uh nevermind!
"Thank you, Moneypenny," he smiled. He paused outside "the door" and glanced over his shoulder. "Oh-- and thank you, Moneypenny," he added. Her quizzical look gave him a slightly sadistic satisfaction, as did her usual attraction behavior and her arousal signals. He went in.
"Well, it's about time, 007," M snapped.
"Sorry, sir," MI-5's best agent replied. "I was--on the wrong slopes in the Alps."
"Yes, whatever." M never got his drollery. Bond would have sworn that the man had no sense of humor--then again, he had survived at least five times as many assassination attempts as had 007. "Look here, 007." The world map slid down into the wall, and a hidden projector showed the face of a fellow agent. "009 has not been heard from since last week. She seems to have vanished while on assignment. Felix Lider hasn't been able to raise her. Your assignment will be--"
Tim: To screw her brains out like you do to every good looking woman in all your films.
"To find her and bring her back," 007 finished.
M shot him an annoyed glance. "No. To complete her mission. If you find her, kill her. We can't take the chance that she's been brainwashed."
Damn. 009 was hot, too. James had always wanted to get into her skirt, pants, uniform, whatever, but 009 was always the ice queen around the agency. She drove the guys crazy with her long, black hair, long, shapely legs (which were quite muscular--as 007 had found out one day when he touched her in a place he really shouldn't have.)
Tim: Bond is good with innuendo, but he NEVER makes advances after a woman says no!
Graham: Not to mention, NO WOMAN CAN RESIST BOND!
He touched his jaw, remembering how his infamous sexy, boyish grin lost three teeth. 009 was also gorgeous. The rumour around MI-5 was that she had perfected the notorious "Kama Sutra butterfly," and that thus far, three men had died while attempting it with her. Maybe he'd find her, pretend to rescue her, roll her, then blow her brains out...
Graham: Wouldn't she be the one blowing him?
"Are you listening, 007?" James snapped himself back to the task at hand. "As I said, and I am not fond of repeating myself, 009's code name was Monique Chambers. She was posing as a tourist on the island of San Cabo, on extended holiday for her mental health. She managed to uncover some things, which she had reported back, but she missed her next three contacts." M gave him a pointed look. "Unlike some of our agents, 009 was always very keen on protocol."
Bond ignored the barb. "Sir, if I may ask, what was her original case?" M gave 007 the look that said he should have been listening all along.
"Mind control, 007. Everybody is very worried about this one. We are talking a possibility of world domination through brainwashing. About two months ago, a woman named Ludmila Vasilenkova
Tim: Say that one 5 times fast!
Graham: That one five times fast.
returned to her native Moscow from her vacation, and went to her job in the KGB, as usual. Since they are so paranoid over there, they began procedures to determine if she were a plant before letting her resume her duties. Although they'd lost quite a few non-operatives over the years this way, their paranoia finally paid off. This girl had been brainwashed. She said that she was 'number fifty-two' and Master's slave--she referred to him as 'Master Yes'. There are other--" M wrinkled his nose in distaste. "--Details here that aren't pertinent. The young woman, sad to say, is no longer--available."
SM: she was, uh, married off to the next available sadist?
Tim: Eh, not bad, not good either, but...
"And where does 009 come in to all of this?" Bond was a little miffed. This was the kind of assignment that would usually go to him first.
"She was selected to go--no other agent anybody has sent has ever returned from there. We thought that perhaps being female might allow her access to work this from the inside. That," M sighed, "is the only reason she was selected before you. I hope I've satisfied your ego, 007."
Bond allowed himself an internal smile. "Yes, well, 009 is a very capable agent."
"At any rate, I want you to go to San Cabo and investigate the resort there; we think it's a front for the brainwashing operation. Your contact will be Felix Lider. Q will also meet you there. He's on holiday, but we've informed him that you will be arriving tomorrow. Good luck, 007."
The jet touched down on the island of San Cabo. It had been a fairly backward and backwater island, avoided by almost every travel agency and cruise line until approximately five years ago. A resort company had purchased a large amount of land for the purpose of building two ultimate resorts, one for singles, one for families. All the stock analysts laughed--until the company did exactly that. Somehow, the company had been able to weather the drain of the enormous initial investment for almost two years while a very canny promotion selected singles and families for free week-long stays. Over the first two years, no cruise ship called. Now it was a favorite turn-around port. As James stepped off the plane into a modern, if relatively small, airport, he couldn't imagine how tourism became so big here in such a short time. Someone had gone to great lengths to establish this place as legitimate for some reason.
Tim: And I wonder what that reason could be...
At Customs, the agent took one look at his passport. "Would you please come with me, Mr. Harris?" he professionally, but sharply, asked. Bond followed, steeling himself for whatever was lurking. The agent led him to a small room away from the main passenger areas. "In here please, sir," the man directed, standing well away from Bond. 007 decided to play along, knowing that his trusty Walthers PPK was within a two-second reach. He opened the door.
Tim: If it's two seconds, Bond must be a decrepit old man in this one.
"Close the door behind you," a familiar, yet different voice ordered.
"Felix!!!" 007 said, spinning around to see his old friend. "How are- -you've changed color again, I see."
Felix smiled, "Yes, James. All the better to appear just another pale tourist trying to get a tan." He turned serious instantly. "I'm glad you've come. We have a serious complication. Q's daughter has vanished."
"Maggie? Gone?"
"Yes. We think it's our boy, this 'Master Yes' character. She had gone to play tennis this morning with a young man she had met. Neither of them came back," Felix gravely replied. "Q is completely distraught-- M gave him some personal leave, so I'm afraid you're not going to get the usual array of toys."
"Why Felix," James dryly replied, "I would almost think you're jealous. At any rate, you're my contact while I'm here." His friend nodded. "As usual, don't expect to hear from me as per protocol."
"Yes, James. I know, you prefer working alone. Nice to be working together again, though. It's been a while."
Bond nodded and smiled. "Just like old times, eh, Felix?"
Felix smiled back. "Yep. You're on the front lines risking life and limb, bedding all the women while I pop up from time to time to provide you with a screen or something. Just like old times. But--you'd better get your rental car for the week and get to the resort. After all, they're expecting you."
Graham: To risk life and limb and bed all the women and have a few good special effects for the crowds at the theater.
Bond pulled up to the swank resort--he was staying at the one for singles. It had taken him a long time to get his rental car: first, the young women at the rental desk couldn't stop fighting over which one of them was to handle his case. The supervisor finally had to pull rank-- she was the cause of the rest of the delay. Somehow, the woman had gotten lost on the way to the lot, and had stopped to get her bearings. Her mouth had been like honey around his member, everywhere, warm, and viscous. The constant, gentle suction had been capped with a seemingly effortless plunge to the root of his cock. He had taken the opportunity to tease her into revealing what she knew about the island before he plowed her in the back seat.
Graham: Well, that's bond for ya!
The island was mostly resort-oriented; the same company had recently built a third, exclusive resort, available by private invitation only. Many companies used it as part of an employee incentive program, and promotional giveaways were common. The standard of living had gone up on the island as well--the literacy rate was climbing above the ninety percent mark, and the unemployment rate was below four percent. There was only one special place on the island that she hadn't been--she called it 'the estate'. As he stroked his dick in and out of the moaning supervisor, Bond thought about how he could get to either the exclusive resort or the estate. She wrapped her arms around him, calling the name of his cover identity. He decided that the estate would be first place to look. The supervisor moaned loudly as her orgasm hit. James picked up his pace, quickening his own release, and sending the woman into orbit. The delay had cost him almost two hours, but he had gained valuable information.
All: TWO HOURS?
Tim: How many frickin times did they do it in that car?
He checked in at the front desk. "My name is Mr. Harris. Mr. Scott Harris. I believe--"
"Oh, yes, sir!" A pretty brunette with very long hair typed in his name at a console. Her name tag said, "Jennifer." He saw her pupils dilate as she leaned forward to hand him the room slip and the charge receipt. "I hope you enjoy your stay here. My name is Jennifer, and if there is anything I can do to make your stay here more enjoyable, please let me know."
Bond smiled and replied, "Thank you, I definitely will." He turned away slowly, enjoying the way Jennifer's eyelids dropped slightly, and her tongue peeked out between her lips. She could be useful later. At the least, she looked like she'd be a great fuck.
Graham: Her name sounds familliar, somehow
Tim: It should. This is the gal from the beginning
"Bond has arrived."
"Give him to me, Roger, please?" The slender red-head smiled. "I'd love to show that chauvinistic bastard--"
Tim: Well, Bond is a superpatriot, which is the real meaning of chauvinist, but I'm pretty sure his parents were firm in wedlock when he was born
"Now, now, Celeste. He has something I want. In exchange, I am going to offer him something he wants--and only I can provide. Besides, I thought you were satisfied with thirty-seven and fifty-eight."
Celeste Grundy sighed. "Well, yes. I am." She pouted. "But Roger, you know how I like to take them down a few pegs when they're-- untrained."
Tim: I'm really repressing the pet joke I have here.
"Well, I could always offer you number eighty-three as a consolation prize," he grinned, watching the expression of pleasure and lust cross the young woman's face. "I know that she interests you. And I certainly have enough now for myself. Although I still find myself extraordinarily attracted to you." He saw Celeste's teasing grin. It had been a while since they'd-- "Number two, your master commands."
Celeste Grundy's eyes glazed over. "Yes, Master. I obey."
Tim: I wonder... number 69, your master commands
(SM's eyes glaze over)
Tim: Now run through the streets of Tokyo completely nude!
(She does so, leaving the two commentators behind.)
Graham: Well she's finally gone, so...
Tim: TRULY SICK COMMENTARY TIME!
Graham: My ears...
Zoom: Can I join?
Graham: Zoom? How did you get in without using the door?
Zoom: I asked this guy in a yellow bandanna, and…
Graham: Okay, that explains it. I guess you can join us.
"Undress, and come--play with your master." Number two began to remove her clothing, deliberately, sensuously, arching her body for her master. She turned her green eyes to him, licking her lips at the bulge that had appeared in his pants. She approached him, exuding waves of lust and heat. Their lips met, and number two moaned into her master's mouth as she felt herself moisten in readiness.
Tim: I remember Tigris doing something like that once. Then I woke up, to something even better...
Zoom: Fresh batteries?
Graham: You have no clue, do you?
Bond waited, tensing slightly as the footsteps came closer to the bathroom. Suspiciously, there had been no bath towels in his room, so he had been forced to call housekeeping. A buxom black woman turned the corner--and Bond relaxed slightly. "Are dese de towels you be needin'?" He looked at her strangely. The question was almost unintelligible, having been spoken in a thick, spicy Cajun patois. She glanced down and said something else. The gist of her subsequent comment became obvious as she knelt in front of him, carelessly tossing the towels into a corner. He was naked. She eagerly fellated him, and despite the earlier interlude with the rental agent, he became erect. She wrapped her breasts around his cock, sliding them up and down. Bond's knees shook slightly. She tugged at him, then stood up, her nostrils flared. He could hear her juices slurp as she ran her hand between her legs.
The maid turned around, lifting her skirt and leaned against the sink. James positioned himself. She twisted away from him, and moaned something in that nearly impenetrable accent. She ran her fingers between her legs again, then slid them further-- Ah! He got the idea. She twisted away from him again, humping air and moaning. His cock stood at full attention; the woman definitely knew how to arouse a man. She slapped her ass and moaned loudly. Bond moved his hand back. Smack!!! A very understandable, "Ohhh YES!" exploded from the woman. He swatted her with his member, and she arched backwards, seeking him.
SMACK!!! The not-too-gentle spank triggered a loud grunt of pleasure, and she undulated some more. "You want another?" Bond asked with a slight leer. She shook her whole body in agreement. SMACK!!!! "Tell me--" SMACK!!! "--About the hotel, and you'll get it--" SMACK!!! "-- All!!!"
Tim: Sade would be vary proud of Bond right now.
Zoom: Who?
Graham: Process this disk.
Zoom (activating the chip Graham gives him): Wow, with Styrofoam? Is that legal?
Bond got out of bed very carefully to avoid disturbing the sleeping woman, who had--under threat of not being spanked--revealed that she was the housekeeping supervisor on duty. For pinching her nipples and probing her depths with four fingers, he had found out that the hotel was what it seemed to be. It had taken an hour of stop-and-start, teasing anal sex to get the woman to reveal the management structure and the general manager's name. However, the resulting orgasm had left the woman even more incoherent than usual, and now she was sleeping quite soundly. He slipped out the door to investigate the resort.
Graham: In essence, screw all the nearby women.
Zoom: 57 gallons of pudding is a little excessive…
"Report, number seventeen?"
"Master, the conversion of number eighty-four is complete. The lab is now working on replicating the formula."
"Good. 007 is making way too much hay for my comfort. You may leave."
Graham: One can never make to much hay!
"Yes, Master," the pear-shaped blonde with wire-rimmed glasses replied. She turned and left, her generous, but nicely rounded, ass swaying.
He picked up the intercom. "Number forty-four, would you please contact number six, and have her come here for briefing?" There was a pause. Maybe now would be a good time to make that change in staffing... "Also, could you send number seventy-eight up? I wish to speak to her about reassignment."
"Yes, Master," the melodic, sensual voice replied.
Boy, those two words were always thrilling--he'd never tire of hearing them. "When you've finished, please contact fifty-one, and bring her in with you for--devotions."
"Oh, yes, Master!!!" The excitement coming from the other side of the door was almost tangible.
Tim: Meesa thinkin' theysa be'a screwing soon!
Graham: Man, you just gave me a bad mental Image of Jar Jar Binks and Amidala.
Zoom: Fish can swim in that? Cool!
It was three in the morning when 007 walked out of the elevator. Unfortunately, the resort lobby was not entirely deserted. He wanted to see if he could find anything hidden in the computer system that would provide some clues. Unfortunately, the nightclub was still open, and people would wander through the lobby too frequently for him to be entirely clandestine. Perhaps the direct approach might work. "Hello, ladies," he smiled at the two desk attendants as he leaned over the counter. Their name tags read, "Bridget", and"Beth". "My name is Mr. Harris, I'm in room 326." The two young women were paying rapt attention, and lightly flushed. "I was wondering if--" He leaned over and gave Bridget a brief kiss. She responded quickly. Beth shoved Bridget out of the way and gave him a deep, hard kiss. The two girls giggled as the night manager came out of the office--she didn't look too happy.
"Beth! What are you doing? Don't you know that fraternizing with guests while on duty is against policy?" Bond looked at the attractive, tall, well-endowed, blonde woman. Her name tag read, "Desirée." How appropriate.
"I'm sorry," he interrupted, "I am entirely at fault." He flashed his best innocent choirboy smile.
"Sir," she began, walking around the desk to speak with him, "I'm sorry but we have to frown on--being with our--guests--during--working... hours." Her nostrils flared. Desirée blinked, then continued, "It's a little--distracting." James struck his strong, silent type pose as she came closer. "I'm afraid--I'll have to ask you... tostepinsidemyoffice," Desirée exhaled into his ear.
Tim: This NOT a Bond movie, due to the sole fact that they'd have to do it in an abandoned submarine missile launcher warehouse manager's office's closet, for it to be a Bond movie.
Zoom (finishing reading the chip): I feel enlightened and violated now…
Once inside, she tore at his pants and rammed her tongue into his throat. Bond rose to the challenge, putting her on her desk, pulling her panties down and slamming into her for God, Queen, and country. She was a fairly quiet one, although he could see Bridget and Beth taking turns watching through the slightly open door. Desirée's nails dug into his ass, pulling him in deep. She quivered, making little hiccuping noises through her climax. He pulled out, still erect, and waved his member in front of her face. The woman swiveled around and engulfed him, furiously bobbing her head while stroking his chest. The door shut, and there stood Bridget, playing with her breasts through her uniform.
As he exploded into Desirée's willing mouth, she was fingering herself to arousal again. He took advantage of her need to get the password to the computer system. Bond diddled Desirée with one hand while Bridget and Beth took turns attending the front desk and blowing him, all the while using his free hand to work the system. Nothing remotely unusual appeared. Desirée couldn't tell him anything else, even after he'd taunted her to the point of tears with his renewed erection. Finally, he'd relented and plunged himself to the hilt into her soft, clinging womanhood. She screamed his cover name in ecstasy, her eyes rolling up into her head as she came, most explosively.
Graham: I've always wondered, how come these people always think that people scream out their partners name when they come?
Tim: Tigris never does.
Zoom: Graham says Solaria never did on their honeymoon.
Graham: Zoom…
Late the next morning, James wandered through the pro shop. He hadn't been able to make any more progress on the resort front: the general manager at the singles resort was away, and her secretary didn't know when she'd be back. Several passionate kisses later, he'd found that she didn't know where the general manager went, either. After fingering her to an orgasm, he'd ascertained that the girl was telling the truth. Jennifer was not at the front desk today, so trying that angle would have to wait. He decided to investigate Maggie's disappearance. The tennis courts were a good place to start, but he'd need equipment so that he wouldn't look out-of-place. "Can I help you?" a voice asked.
He spun around to see a fairly well-built, light-skinned black man. "We have a fitting room here," the black man announced, ushering him towards the relative privacy of the fitting area.
Bond was about to karate chop the guy when he asked, "Find anything promising yet, James?" in quiet tones.
Tim: So are you in triple digits yet, James, or are you losing your sexual edge?
"Oh, it's you Felix," James said, exhaling in relief. "I can't keep up with your changes."
"I'm undercover as a resort worker now," the American agent replied. "None of the women notice me anyway, so what difference does it make what I look like?" He looked around to see if anyone was near. "Scuttlebutt has it that several of the staff were engaged in highly--unprofessional-- behavior early this morning." Bond looked positively bored by the revelation. "Anyway, I checked like you asked--it wasn't a staff member that was with Maggie. Everyone was accounted for," Felix whispered.
Zoom: Well, all except for the ones that weren't...
Tim: Congrats, I knew you had in in ya!
"I'm going to check the courts now. Will you help me with getting equipment so I can at least make it look good?" Felix nodded, and James Bond, armed with Her Majesty's Secret Service Credit Card, purchased four hundred seven dollars worth of tennis shoes, clothes and equipment. There was a message waiting for him when he got back to his room. "Mr. Harris," an all-too-familiar voice snapped, "what the devil do you think you're doing? Four hundred seven dollars on tennis equipment? Make sure that it arrives promptly in acquisitions on your return. We can no longer afford to treat our agents to working vacations!" He sighed at M's rebuke. Damn the age of computers. In the old days, it would have been easy to destroy the receipt, and accounting would have no idea what he had spent--other than on replacing destroyed cars and associated property damage.
Tim: Lord knows that there was assloads of that!
Graham: Lord also knows he got those asses too.
Number two burst into the study. "Master, I have some disturbing news," she breathlessly said. She stopped short, realizing that he was probably unable to hear. Number fifty-one, a lithe oriental woman, was grinding purposefully as she straddled his face. Number forty-four, a curly-haired brunette, was riding his cock. Number two sighed. She went to the desk--number fifty-one reached eagerly for her as she passed. Under normal conditions, Celeste would have enjoyed the diversion, but now was not the time. "Your mistress commands you both to come!" she said. Fifty-one squealed, and forty-four grunted. The oriental woman bucked repeatedly, then seemed to freeze before giving one gigantic shudder. Master gurgled.
Graham: Don't you mean gargled? he does have a lot of liquids in his mouth right now, after all.
Celeste regretted having wasted Mai Sun's sweet woman cum, but she had to stop what was going on, so she could talk to Master now. She watched his hips thrust up forcefully. "OHHHH! YES!!! MAAAAASSSTERRRR!!!! YEESSS!!!" Forty-four's climactic scream prefaced her collapse.
"Celeste, what was so damn important?" Master was definitely very pissed off. He disengaged from both women with slurping noises. "Couldn't it wait?"
"No, Roger, it couldn't. Ernst Blofeld and four goons just arrived on the island!" She watched with envy as he deliberately cleaned himself up before addressing her. Such control and calm... it made her pussy twitch very strongly for him.
Tim: Not even a modern bond movie is THIS blatant! This man deserves an award for being blunt!
Graham: I feel the urge to use something blunt on this story…
Zoom: A hammer? A flat shovel? I can find one…
"We can take care of the goons, then, but let's leave Blofeld for a bit. Mai Sun, your master commands." The oriental girl's eyes lidded. "Shadow, there are four men here on the island I want you and your company to kill. Number two will provide descriptions, details and anything else you need."
"Yes, Master. I obey," the entranced woman replied.
"What about Bond?" Celeste asked with a note of concern. "I bet they're here to kill him while they're trying to get the secret from us. I thought you wanted him alive for something?"
He nodded. "I think I have just the perfect person in mind to-- protect Mr. Bond." A mischievous smile lit up his face. "And I think you know who I mean." He looked at Celeste Grundy--she smiled back, fully aware of the irony. He wiggled a finger, summoning her for a kiss. She leaned forward to oblige, and put her hand on his cock. She was panting very softly. "You have work to do--later, my darling Celeste," he said.
"Yes, my Master," she breathed, disappointed, and still hot. She led the other two women out of the study, not wanting to look at him, to keep from losing her control.
Tim: What control? She's a sex hungry slut through and through!
------
Mordancy Sarcasm Theater 4000
By Tim
All belongs to whom it belongs to. Also, please don't sue me. Thank you
In the not too distant future...
(Tim pops up and blasts the opening sequence with a missile)
Tim: Let's get on with it, shall we?
Satellite of Lust, Sometime during the continuum.
Tim: So poofy, ready for another rousing round of guest bashing?
Graham: Another Misty? How about we cancel our show too?
Tim: Sorry, we have nine years and eleven more months till we can cancel.
Sailor Moon: I am here to fight... Wait, this isn't the negaverse!
Graham: Give the girl a prize!
Artlu: Stop that, and get into the theater, we have another lemon fiction this time, for your reading dipleasure.
Tim: Artlu, you really need to work on sounding menacing. and another thin- (sirens and alarms cut him off)
(Tim and Graham run into the theater, grabbing a ponytail each)
The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive · Story List · Author List · Category List
Story: Master Yes · Author: The Flying Pen
This story copyright (c) 1997, by The Flying Pen. Any commercial use is expressly forbidden without the permission of the author. Permission is granted for one hardcopy to be made for private use.
Graham: Hey, wait, Tim don't you...?
Tim: Yup, I decided we had to get away from anime for a while so I sent this one into Artie with a bad review. I knew he'd fall for the bait. Anyway they've also got a good one called "Serena's enslavement."
SM (Sailor Moon, not that kind of SM): huh, what? HEY!
Graham: shut up and start flinging slams, it's starting
Master Yes
Graham: A Bond title if I ever heard one.
Tim: Obviously a parody of the "first" bond movie, Dr. No.
Graham: Which reminds me, how was your stay at the Casino Royale?
Tim: Pretty good, I met the british girl again, you know, the one who came from Russia with love?
Graham: You mean the spy who loved me?
Tim: Yes, but remember, she was in her majesty's secret service.
Graham: her last words to me were "If I can't have you, then the world is not enough"
Tim: Well, you only live twice, so make the best out of what you have.
Graham: But tommorow never dies, so don't give up hope.
Tim: And never say never again. Which reminds me, I think I'll go down to the harem and have an octopussy.
Graham: How do you do that without getting a "goldfinger"?
Tim: Just call me "thunderballs"
Graham: You going to go with the girl that likes to be near your "goldeneye"?
Tim: I am the man with the golden gun to her eyes.
Graham: Yeah isn't she the one that always tries to get you to give her a moonraker?
Tim: Ahhh, yes. This gal, she's quite the view to a kill.
Graham: And the life in the harem is, well, live and let die.
Tim: Diamonds are forever, but a good slave doesn't last that long.
Graham: hold it. I forgot the final Bond title.
Tim: It's License To Kill, but I prefer License to Boink...
A parody by The Flying Pen, with apologies to Ian Fleming, who probably wanted to write his 007 stories this way...
Tim: you mean on the computer?
Graham: Groan...
Jennifer Cross sat at the bar sipping one of those fruity island drinks. She had saved up for this "week in paradise," and while the weather and the scenery had been as advertised, one thing hadn't: the men. The bartender had hoped to find one of those gorgeous single hunks for a little bit of fun, and possibly more, but so far, the only men she'd met were workers at the resort, natives,
Tim: The guy with a palm tree on his head,
or married and with their wives. Still, her tan was getting deeper, and this was great compared to winter back home. Her long, thick, rich brown hair had been braided by one of the locals but it still reached the top of her rear end. Jennifer took a lot of pride in her hair, although her brown eyes and smile were certainly very attractive. She had hoped to work off a few pounds while here, but she didn't think that was going to happen. Her body was soft and rounded; she wasn't overweight, but she wasn't thin, either. She turned her head, casually scanning the resort's club. Then she saw him. Tall, muscular, definitely under 30, with the air of a successful man about him. Her heart skipped a beat. No ring.
Graham: So he's not a boxer?
Tim: Nope, definitely not caninistic, like our companion here...
SM: (looks confused for a moment) HEY, I AM NOT A DOG!
Tim: Tell it to the purebreds, ya mutt.
She almost stopped breathing as the man approached the bar. He sat next to her and ordered a beer. Jennifer dropped her cigarettes on the floor, and their eyes met as both of them bent over to retrieve them. "Hi," he said, handing her the pack. "I believe these are yours." She blushed and almost hyperventilated. God, he was gorgeous... and those eyes... He seemed not to notice her infatuation, continuing, "And you are?"
"In love." Jennifer immediately turned bright red as her thought came out before she could stop it. I wonder if tans hide blushing well? "Umm... Jennifer," she recovered. "I'm here on vacation from Chicago."
"Chicago? So am I!" he replied, smiling. "On vacation from the windy wintry weather. My name's Jeff. I work for the commuter agency." She was electrified by her luck. Meeting a fellow Chicagoan this far from home. A gorgeous, single one. "How long have you been here, Jennifer?"
"Two days. It's really nice, but I wish I had brought a friend. The brochures sort of touted this--"
Graham: As better than hell?
Tim: better than a root canal while dancing the cancan in a tuxedo on top of a hippo singing opera?
SM: There's no way I can top that one!
"--As a single's paradise. 'A week in paradise' with other healthy, happy singles," Jeff grinned. "I got the same brochure and presentation. But to be honest, you're the first single I've met here who seems interesting. I've been here since last Saturday," he said. They spoke amiably about Chicago over drinks, then he invited her to have dinner. Jennifer, of course, accepted.
The conversation continued over the meal, and the band took the stand. "Jennifer, would you like to dance? I mean, it's no fun dancing by yourself," he smiled again. "It's kind of nice to have somebody to do things with here--even if we didn't arrive--together." She replied that that would be fun. They danced and had another drink; when the band slowed down, she instinctively wrapped herself around him. He accepted the invitation. After the song ended, Jennifer excused herself to go to the ladies' room, triumphantly thinking, "Yes!!! This is exactly what I came here for."
Tim: I give this one to you Graham
Graham: So she came to an exotic paradise just to go the bathroom?
SM: I thought she came to meet guys?
T & G: GRROOOAAANN!
She was flushed now, anticipating the next slow song, when she would look into his beautiful eyes and he would lean forward and they would kiss, starting a night of passion...
While she was gone, Jeff ordered another round of drinks. They arrived very quickly. Furtively looking towards the ladies' room, he produced a packet and poured a fine white powder into Jennifer's. When she returned, he proposed a toast. "Here's to new friends. Maybe I'll see you in Chicago sometime."
She was absolutely thrilled and drank heartily. He smiled again, that wonderful, brilliant, sexy smile. Jennifer felt the stirrings of lust more strongly. They danced some more, and the world began to spin for her. She felt carefree, wonderful, and very attracted to Jeff. After a few more songs, though, the world didn't stop spinning. She ordered a glass of water; where was it... she was not feeling very good. Jeff... Jeff was asking her... something... and his eyes... so pretty... dance... no... fresh air. Yes, thanks. She felt his arm help support her as she walked through quicksand. They left the club, into the warm air... ocean breeze... night... moon... night... dark... new moon?
Tim: My god! She's actually William Shatner in disguise!!!!
Jeff held onto Jennifer as she passed out. He hailed a cab. As he easily put the limp, unconscious girl into the back seat, he said two words: "The estate." The driver nodded and pulled away. The handsome young man returned to the lobby of the resort hotel, and walked up to an unmarked door. He swiped a plastic card through the reader, and went in, closing the door behind him.
Graham: It's not a bond movie without at least three secret doors in the lobby.
"Report."
"Number thirty-seven. Jennifer Cross is in transit."
"Excellent," the voice replied. "Number two, you may take thirty- seven to the watering hole--allow him his choice."
"Yes, master," a soft, feminine voice eagerly replied. A beautiful red-headed woman stepped out of the shadows. "Come with me," she said to Jeff, who replied, "Yes, Mistress. I must obey." She led him to an elevator and grinned wolfishly. "Kneel, and worship me," she commanded.
Tim: I bet you'd like to be in her place right now, eh, bunny? Specially if Darien was number one.
SM: Yeah, I wou... I mean NO!!!
Jeff knelt, kissed her boot, then her hand. Looking deeply into her sea-green eyes, he said, "I adore my Mistress, and my body is hers. I must obey my Mistress, because she is the ultimate. I will serve my Mistress, and her Master."
Graham: I've heard better lines and acting in a gradeschool play.
Number two smiled. "You may come now, number thirty-seven." She watched with amusement as the bulge in Jeff's shorts suddenly grew, making the head of his cock peek down one leg. His eyes crossed, he shuddered, and came all over his dock shoes with a groan. He sighed happily. "When the doors open, you will be allowed to choose any of the women there. After you have cleaned up, you will be able to get hard for the one you choose, and no one else. You will then be able to perform to your heart's desire until you are sated. Is that clear?"
Tim: No, I'd say that it's more translucent than clear.
"Yes, Mistress," the man blankly said. The redhead swiped her plastic card through the elevator's reader to send it to its deepest level.
Jennifer Cross opened her eyes. She had been dreaming of an island paradise and a gorgeous hunk... She looked around the room, still groggy, searching for her memory. The room was all-white--like a hospital. What had happened? Her voice didn't seem to work, either. She tried to get to her feet, but she couldn't move her legs--she couldn't move, period. A woman came into the room--a nurse, obviously-- even if she was blonde with big boobs and a narrow waist.
SM: You two are gonna say something about how all nurses look like that, aren't you?
Tim: Yup, we are.
Jennifer tried to speak again, but could only watch as the nurse clinically prepared an injection. Her body refused to move as the nurse approached, despite the powerful urge to run away. Jennifer tried to scream as the needle went into her neck, but no sound came out. The world instantly began to fade, becoming subtle colors dancing in front of her eyes. Everything seemed so--wavy. That was her last thought as her eyes opened wide and her mouth went slack.
The nurse left the room and dimmed the lights. She pressed a switch. The white walls of the room seemed to come alive with swirling and dancing colors. A voodoo drum beat began to play, and strangely musical, rhythmic chanting filled the air as Jennifer watched, spellbound. She began to hear her name chanted through the drums and the music... calling her... Jennifer... yes... Jennifer... new... Jennifer... obey... commands... Jennifer... must obey... yes... obey... watching... listening... obey... new... Jennifer...
Tim: SOMEBDY GET WILLIAM SHATNER OUT OF THIS FANFIC, NOW!!!!
The sounds and the lights that swirled around her had not stopped for several hours, but Jennifer was oblivious to time's passage as her reprogramming continued. A face... a voice... obey... must obey... Jennifer... slave... command... the face... the voice... master... Master... yes... desire... Master... only... Master... must obey.. Master... new Jennifer... number eighty-three... yes... I am... Master's... number eighty-three... lust... Master... obey... Master... slave... to obey... number-eighty three... lust... Master... must obey...
She was talking now, in this, the twelfth hour of the bizarre sound and light show. The drug that had paralyzed her earlier had worn off. Number-eighty three was free to move, but she didn't want to. "I will obey Master. I must obey Master." She continued to babble as the voice and picture of her master constantly flashed, embedded in the music and lights. He was irresistible. Her master. She was his slave, his number eighty-three; Jennifer was someone only other people knew. She was her master's number eighty-three; she would obey his commands. Masturbate. Yes, Master. Her hands frantically went to work as her master's voice urged her on... Yes, masturbate... for Master... ohh... god... Master... yes... yes... Master... obey... I am your slave... Master... Number-eighty three... slave... to Master... "Yes, Master... Yes, Master yes, Master, ohhh, YES! Master! Yes Master..." Number eighty- three's chants became sexually charged moans. She was sending herself to orgasm at her Master's bidding as she listened to his voice and saw his face... commanding her... a good slave... always obey... "YES--Master! YES! Master!! YES!! MASTER!!! YES!!!! MASTER!!! YESS!!! MASTER!!! YES!!!!" The last was screamed in ecstasy as the world swirled crazily around her, her body contorted and her consciousness was ripped away by a powerful orgasm. Number-eighty-three's world went black.
Graham: Why can't worlds ever go to more interesting colors, like green, or magenta?
The Astin-Martin barreled along the alpine road, hotly pursed by eight men aboard four custom-designed snowmobiles. The snowmobiles were slowly gaining on the Astin, traveling at an impossibly high rate of speed.
Tim: He could have said speed and he could have said rate of movement, so WHY did he say something dumb like “rate of speed?”
Automatic gunfire erupted from the smaller vehicles. The car slowed to take each curve, its driver obviously aware of the sheer thousand-foot drop on the other side of the guard rail. The snowmobiles, built for traction, had no such difficulty--at least until a black substance spewed from one of the tailpipes of the car. The lead snowmobile, running at maximum speed and now quickly closing on the Astin, slid; unfortunately, the road took a downhill, seventy-degree turn to the right at that point. The passenger leapt off before his vehicle and its driver ripped through the rail. He was immediately clobbered and sent flying off the edge by the next of the snowmobiles; it, and its partners made the turn, still giving chase.
Graham: Man, road rage just keeps getting worse and worse!
The car accelerated into the next sharp bend, and the road veered upwards. The next two snowmobiles watched their prey disappear temporarily. As they made the turn, they all saw the two small boulders heading their way and the open trunk lid of the car. One snowmobile veered sharply to the right, causing it to smash into the mountainside; another turned left, but lost traction and went careening into the chasm. The third driver couldn't make up his mind--one of the large rocks obliterated him, his passenger and about half his vehicle.
Tim: See, this is what happens when you allow government work crews to run rampant!
The driver of the Astin stopped at the top of the mountain, got out, rearranged his cuffs, and closed the trunk lid. "Q was right. Sometimes the old ideas are the best. And to think that I thought a catapult was next to useless." Suddenly, a helicopter swooped down from out of nowhere; somehow, it was hovering and the engine was almost perfectly silent. An amplified voice from the helicopter said, "Put your hands up." He complied.
SM: Could it tell him to strip too, he looks hot!
Tim: No, but it can tell him to do the Hokey pokey.
"So it ends, Mr. Bond," the voice gloated. "I presume you like my new toy, the stealth helicopter. It's a purchased Russian design; amazing what they'll do for money now." A man leaned out of one side, easily audible in the absence of rotor noise. "I wish to do the honors myself, because you have caused me no end of trouble." He pointed a gun at Bond. "Goodbye, Mr. Bond." The helicopter promptly exploded.
Tim: someone musta shoved a banana in his tailpipe.
"Goodbye," James Bond said as he watched the debris fall. "Surely you didn't think that police are the only ones who use radar."
Tim: Hold it. Wouldn't a stealth helicopter be undetectable by radar?
He had known the helicopter was around, although the mountains had made it impossible to target until it was out in the open. However, it had been Moneypenny's idea to include "Goodbye, Mr. Bond" as a trigger command for the headlight laser. He would have to thank her when he got back.
Graham: As he will in six seconds since the author didn't see fit to include a proper break here.
"Hello, James." Miss Moneypenny watched the tall, slender, dark- haired man enter her office for the millionth time. For the millionth time, his appearance gave her a sudden urge. Her pussy quivered. "You're late. As usual. He's waiting for you." She smiled at him. If only James would just take her and fuck her like...
Tim: Like Rush Limbaugh pontificates?
Graham: Like the president lies?
SM: Like darien and me did in the park last wee- uh nevermind!
"Thank you, Moneypenny," he smiled. He paused outside "the door" and glanced over his shoulder. "Oh-- and thank you, Moneypenny," he added. Her quizzical look gave him a slightly sadistic satisfaction, as did her usual attraction behavior and her arousal signals. He went in.
"Well, it's about time, 007," M snapped.
"Sorry, sir," MI-5's best agent replied. "I was--on the wrong slopes in the Alps."
"Yes, whatever." M never got his drollery. Bond would have sworn that the man had no sense of humor--then again, he had survived at least five times as many assassination attempts as had 007. "Look here, 007." The world map slid down into the wall, and a hidden projector showed the face of a fellow agent. "009 has not been heard from since last week. She seems to have vanished while on assignment. Felix Lider hasn't been able to raise her. Your assignment will be--"
Tim: To screw her brains out like you do to every good looking woman in all your films.
"To find her and bring her back," 007 finished.
M shot him an annoyed glance. "No. To complete her mission. If you find her, kill her. We can't take the chance that she's been brainwashed."
Damn. 009 was hot, too. James had always wanted to get into her skirt, pants, uniform, whatever, but 009 was always the ice queen around the agency. She drove the guys crazy with her long, black hair, long, shapely legs (which were quite muscular--as 007 had found out one day when he touched her in a place he really shouldn't have.)
Tim: Bond is good with innuendo, but he NEVER makes advances after a woman says no!
Graham: Not to mention, NO WOMAN CAN RESIST BOND!
He touched his jaw, remembering how his infamous sexy, boyish grin lost three teeth. 009 was also gorgeous. The rumour around MI-5 was that she had perfected the notorious "Kama Sutra butterfly," and that thus far, three men had died while attempting it with her. Maybe he'd find her, pretend to rescue her, roll her, then blow her brains out...
Graham: Wouldn't she be the one blowing him?
"Are you listening, 007?" James snapped himself back to the task at hand. "As I said, and I am not fond of repeating myself, 009's code name was Monique Chambers. She was posing as a tourist on the island of San Cabo, on extended holiday for her mental health. She managed to uncover some things, which she had reported back, but she missed her next three contacts." M gave him a pointed look. "Unlike some of our agents, 009 was always very keen on protocol."
Bond ignored the barb. "Sir, if I may ask, what was her original case?" M gave 007 the look that said he should have been listening all along.
"Mind control, 007. Everybody is very worried about this one. We are talking a possibility of world domination through brainwashing. About two months ago, a woman named Ludmila Vasilenkova
Tim: Say that one 5 times fast!
Graham: That one five times fast.
returned to her native Moscow from her vacation, and went to her job in the KGB, as usual. Since they are so paranoid over there, they began procedures to determine if she were a plant before letting her resume her duties. Although they'd lost quite a few non-operatives over the years this way, their paranoia finally paid off. This girl had been brainwashed. She said that she was 'number fifty-two' and Master's slave--she referred to him as 'Master Yes'. There are other--" M wrinkled his nose in distaste. "--Details here that aren't pertinent. The young woman, sad to say, is no longer--available."
SM: she was, uh, married off to the next available sadist?
Tim: Eh, not bad, not good either, but...
"And where does 009 come in to all of this?" Bond was a little miffed. This was the kind of assignment that would usually go to him first.
"She was selected to go--no other agent anybody has sent has ever returned from there. We thought that perhaps being female might allow her access to work this from the inside. That," M sighed, "is the only reason she was selected before you. I hope I've satisfied your ego, 007."
Bond allowed himself an internal smile. "Yes, well, 009 is a very capable agent."
"At any rate, I want you to go to San Cabo and investigate the resort there; we think it's a front for the brainwashing operation. Your contact will be Felix Lider. Q will also meet you there. He's on holiday, but we've informed him that you will be arriving tomorrow. Good luck, 007."
The jet touched down on the island of San Cabo. It had been a fairly backward and backwater island, avoided by almost every travel agency and cruise line until approximately five years ago. A resort company had purchased a large amount of land for the purpose of building two ultimate resorts, one for singles, one for families. All the stock analysts laughed--until the company did exactly that. Somehow, the company had been able to weather the drain of the enormous initial investment for almost two years while a very canny promotion selected singles and families for free week-long stays. Over the first two years, no cruise ship called. Now it was a favorite turn-around port. As James stepped off the plane into a modern, if relatively small, airport, he couldn't imagine how tourism became so big here in such a short time. Someone had gone to great lengths to establish this place as legitimate for some reason.
Tim: And I wonder what that reason could be...
At Customs, the agent took one look at his passport. "Would you please come with me, Mr. Harris?" he professionally, but sharply, asked. Bond followed, steeling himself for whatever was lurking. The agent led him to a small room away from the main passenger areas. "In here please, sir," the man directed, standing well away from Bond. 007 decided to play along, knowing that his trusty Walthers PPK was within a two-second reach. He opened the door.
Tim: If it's two seconds, Bond must be a decrepit old man in this one.
"Close the door behind you," a familiar, yet different voice ordered.
"Felix!!!" 007 said, spinning around to see his old friend. "How are- -you've changed color again, I see."
Felix smiled, "Yes, James. All the better to appear just another pale tourist trying to get a tan." He turned serious instantly. "I'm glad you've come. We have a serious complication. Q's daughter has vanished."
"Maggie? Gone?"
"Yes. We think it's our boy, this 'Master Yes' character. She had gone to play tennis this morning with a young man she had met. Neither of them came back," Felix gravely replied. "Q is completely distraught-- M gave him some personal leave, so I'm afraid you're not going to get the usual array of toys."
"Why Felix," James dryly replied, "I would almost think you're jealous. At any rate, you're my contact while I'm here." His friend nodded. "As usual, don't expect to hear from me as per protocol."
"Yes, James. I know, you prefer working alone. Nice to be working together again, though. It's been a while."
Bond nodded and smiled. "Just like old times, eh, Felix?"
Felix smiled back. "Yep. You're on the front lines risking life and limb, bedding all the women while I pop up from time to time to provide you with a screen or something. Just like old times. But--you'd better get your rental car for the week and get to the resort. After all, they're expecting you."
Graham: To risk life and limb and bed all the women and have a few good special effects for the crowds at the theater.
Bond pulled up to the swank resort--he was staying at the one for singles. It had taken him a long time to get his rental car: first, the young women at the rental desk couldn't stop fighting over which one of them was to handle his case. The supervisor finally had to pull rank-- she was the cause of the rest of the delay. Somehow, the woman had gotten lost on the way to the lot, and had stopped to get her bearings. Her mouth had been like honey around his member, everywhere, warm, and viscous. The constant, gentle suction had been capped with a seemingly effortless plunge to the root of his cock. He had taken the opportunity to tease her into revealing what she knew about the island before he plowed her in the back seat.
Graham: Well, that's bond for ya!
The island was mostly resort-oriented; the same company had recently built a third, exclusive resort, available by private invitation only. Many companies used it as part of an employee incentive program, and promotional giveaways were common. The standard of living had gone up on the island as well--the literacy rate was climbing above the ninety percent mark, and the unemployment rate was below four percent. There was only one special place on the island that she hadn't been--she called it 'the estate'. As he stroked his dick in and out of the moaning supervisor, Bond thought about how he could get to either the exclusive resort or the estate. She wrapped her arms around him, calling the name of his cover identity. He decided that the estate would be first place to look. The supervisor moaned loudly as her orgasm hit. James picked up his pace, quickening his own release, and sending the woman into orbit. The delay had cost him almost two hours, but he had gained valuable information.
All: TWO HOURS?
Tim: How many frickin times did they do it in that car?
He checked in at the front desk. "My name is Mr. Harris. Mr. Scott Harris. I believe--"
"Oh, yes, sir!" A pretty brunette with very long hair typed in his name at a console. Her name tag said, "Jennifer." He saw her pupils dilate as she leaned forward to hand him the room slip and the charge receipt. "I hope you enjoy your stay here. My name is Jennifer, and if there is anything I can do to make your stay here more enjoyable, please let me know."
Bond smiled and replied, "Thank you, I definitely will." He turned away slowly, enjoying the way Jennifer's eyelids dropped slightly, and her tongue peeked out between her lips. She could be useful later. At the least, she looked like she'd be a great fuck.
Graham: Her name sounds familliar, somehow
Tim: It should. This is the gal from the beginning
"Bond has arrived."
"Give him to me, Roger, please?" The slender red-head smiled. "I'd love to show that chauvinistic bastard--"
Tim: Well, Bond is a superpatriot, which is the real meaning of chauvinist, but I'm pretty sure his parents were firm in wedlock when he was born
"Now, now, Celeste. He has something I want. In exchange, I am going to offer him something he wants--and only I can provide. Besides, I thought you were satisfied with thirty-seven and fifty-eight."
Celeste Grundy sighed. "Well, yes. I am." She pouted. "But Roger, you know how I like to take them down a few pegs when they're-- untrained."
Tim: I'm really repressing the pet joke I have here.
"Well, I could always offer you number eighty-three as a consolation prize," he grinned, watching the expression of pleasure and lust cross the young woman's face. "I know that she interests you. And I certainly have enough now for myself. Although I still find myself extraordinarily attracted to you." He saw Celeste's teasing grin. It had been a while since they'd-- "Number two, your master commands."
Celeste Grundy's eyes glazed over. "Yes, Master. I obey."
Tim: I wonder... number 69, your master commands
(SM's eyes glaze over)
Tim: Now run through the streets of Tokyo completely nude!
(She does so, leaving the two commentators behind.)
Graham: Well she's finally gone, so...
Tim: TRULY SICK COMMENTARY TIME!
Graham: My ears...
Zoom: Can I join?
Graham: Zoom? How did you get in without using the door?
Zoom: I asked this guy in a yellow bandanna, and…
Graham: Okay, that explains it. I guess you can join us.
"Undress, and come--play with your master." Number two began to remove her clothing, deliberately, sensuously, arching her body for her master. She turned her green eyes to him, licking her lips at the bulge that had appeared in his pants. She approached him, exuding waves of lust and heat. Their lips met, and number two moaned into her master's mouth as she felt herself moisten in readiness.
Tim: I remember Tigris doing something like that once. Then I woke up, to something even better...
Zoom: Fresh batteries?
Graham: You have no clue, do you?
Bond waited, tensing slightly as the footsteps came closer to the bathroom. Suspiciously, there had been no bath towels in his room, so he had been forced to call housekeeping. A buxom black woman turned the corner--and Bond relaxed slightly. "Are dese de towels you be needin'?" He looked at her strangely. The question was almost unintelligible, having been spoken in a thick, spicy Cajun patois. She glanced down and said something else. The gist of her subsequent comment became obvious as she knelt in front of him, carelessly tossing the towels into a corner. He was naked. She eagerly fellated him, and despite the earlier interlude with the rental agent, he became erect. She wrapped her breasts around his cock, sliding them up and down. Bond's knees shook slightly. She tugged at him, then stood up, her nostrils flared. He could hear her juices slurp as she ran her hand between her legs.
The maid turned around, lifting her skirt and leaned against the sink. James positioned himself. She twisted away from him, and moaned something in that nearly impenetrable accent. She ran her fingers between her legs again, then slid them further-- Ah! He got the idea. She twisted away from him again, humping air and moaning. His cock stood at full attention; the woman definitely knew how to arouse a man. She slapped her ass and moaned loudly. Bond moved his hand back. Smack!!! A very understandable, "Ohhh YES!" exploded from the woman. He swatted her with his member, and she arched backwards, seeking him.
SMACK!!! The not-too-gentle spank triggered a loud grunt of pleasure, and she undulated some more. "You want another?" Bond asked with a slight leer. She shook her whole body in agreement. SMACK!!!! "Tell me--" SMACK!!! "--About the hotel, and you'll get it--" SMACK!!! "-- All!!!"
Tim: Sade would be vary proud of Bond right now.
Zoom: Who?
Graham: Process this disk.
Zoom (activating the chip Graham gives him): Wow, with Styrofoam? Is that legal?
Bond got out of bed very carefully to avoid disturbing the sleeping woman, who had--under threat of not being spanked--revealed that she was the housekeeping supervisor on duty. For pinching her nipples and probing her depths with four fingers, he had found out that the hotel was what it seemed to be. It had taken an hour of stop-and-start, teasing anal sex to get the woman to reveal the management structure and the general manager's name. However, the resulting orgasm had left the woman even more incoherent than usual, and now she was sleeping quite soundly. He slipped out the door to investigate the resort.
Graham: In essence, screw all the nearby women.
Zoom: 57 gallons of pudding is a little excessive…
"Report, number seventeen?"
"Master, the conversion of number eighty-four is complete. The lab is now working on replicating the formula."
"Good. 007 is making way too much hay for my comfort. You may leave."
Graham: One can never make to much hay!
"Yes, Master," the pear-shaped blonde with wire-rimmed glasses replied. She turned and left, her generous, but nicely rounded, ass swaying.
He picked up the intercom. "Number forty-four, would you please contact number six, and have her come here for briefing?" There was a pause. Maybe now would be a good time to make that change in staffing... "Also, could you send number seventy-eight up? I wish to speak to her about reassignment."
"Yes, Master," the melodic, sensual voice replied.
Boy, those two words were always thrilling--he'd never tire of hearing them. "When you've finished, please contact fifty-one, and bring her in with you for--devotions."
"Oh, yes, Master!!!" The excitement coming from the other side of the door was almost tangible.
Tim: Meesa thinkin' theysa be'a screwing soon!
Graham: Man, you just gave me a bad mental Image of Jar Jar Binks and Amidala.
Zoom: Fish can swim in that? Cool!
It was three in the morning when 007 walked out of the elevator. Unfortunately, the resort lobby was not entirely deserted. He wanted to see if he could find anything hidden in the computer system that would provide some clues. Unfortunately, the nightclub was still open, and people would wander through the lobby too frequently for him to be entirely clandestine. Perhaps the direct approach might work. "Hello, ladies," he smiled at the two desk attendants as he leaned over the counter. Their name tags read, "Bridget", and"Beth". "My name is Mr. Harris, I'm in room 326." The two young women were paying rapt attention, and lightly flushed. "I was wondering if--" He leaned over and gave Bridget a brief kiss. She responded quickly. Beth shoved Bridget out of the way and gave him a deep, hard kiss. The two girls giggled as the night manager came out of the office--she didn't look too happy.
"Beth! What are you doing? Don't you know that fraternizing with guests while on duty is against policy?" Bond looked at the attractive, tall, well-endowed, blonde woman. Her name tag read, "Desirée." How appropriate.
"I'm sorry," he interrupted, "I am entirely at fault." He flashed his best innocent choirboy smile.
"Sir," she began, walking around the desk to speak with him, "I'm sorry but we have to frown on--being with our--guests--during--working... hours." Her nostrils flared. Desirée blinked, then continued, "It's a little--distracting." James struck his strong, silent type pose as she came closer. "I'm afraid--I'll have to ask you... tostepinsidemyoffice," Desirée exhaled into his ear.
Tim: This NOT a Bond movie, due to the sole fact that they'd have to do it in an abandoned submarine missile launcher warehouse manager's office's closet, for it to be a Bond movie.
Zoom (finishing reading the chip): I feel enlightened and violated now…
Once inside, she tore at his pants and rammed her tongue into his throat. Bond rose to the challenge, putting her on her desk, pulling her panties down and slamming into her for God, Queen, and country. She was a fairly quiet one, although he could see Bridget and Beth taking turns watching through the slightly open door. Desirée's nails dug into his ass, pulling him in deep. She quivered, making little hiccuping noises through her climax. He pulled out, still erect, and waved his member in front of her face. The woman swiveled around and engulfed him, furiously bobbing her head while stroking his chest. The door shut, and there stood Bridget, playing with her breasts through her uniform.
As he exploded into Desirée's willing mouth, she was fingering herself to arousal again. He took advantage of her need to get the password to the computer system. Bond diddled Desirée with one hand while Bridget and Beth took turns attending the front desk and blowing him, all the while using his free hand to work the system. Nothing remotely unusual appeared. Desirée couldn't tell him anything else, even after he'd taunted her to the point of tears with his renewed erection. Finally, he'd relented and plunged himself to the hilt into her soft, clinging womanhood. She screamed his cover name in ecstasy, her eyes rolling up into her head as she came, most explosively.
Graham: I've always wondered, how come these people always think that people scream out their partners name when they come?
Tim: Tigris never does.
Zoom: Graham says Solaria never did on their honeymoon.
Graham: Zoom…
Late the next morning, James wandered through the pro shop. He hadn't been able to make any more progress on the resort front: the general manager at the singles resort was away, and her secretary didn't know when she'd be back. Several passionate kisses later, he'd found that she didn't know where the general manager went, either. After fingering her to an orgasm, he'd ascertained that the girl was telling the truth. Jennifer was not at the front desk today, so trying that angle would have to wait. He decided to investigate Maggie's disappearance. The tennis courts were a good place to start, but he'd need equipment so that he wouldn't look out-of-place. "Can I help you?" a voice asked.
He spun around to see a fairly well-built, light-skinned black man. "We have a fitting room here," the black man announced, ushering him towards the relative privacy of the fitting area.
Bond was about to karate chop the guy when he asked, "Find anything promising yet, James?" in quiet tones.
Tim: So are you in triple digits yet, James, or are you losing your sexual edge?
"Oh, it's you Felix," James said, exhaling in relief. "I can't keep up with your changes."
"I'm undercover as a resort worker now," the American agent replied. "None of the women notice me anyway, so what difference does it make what I look like?" He looked around to see if anyone was near. "Scuttlebutt has it that several of the staff were engaged in highly--unprofessional-- behavior early this morning." Bond looked positively bored by the revelation. "Anyway, I checked like you asked--it wasn't a staff member that was with Maggie. Everyone was accounted for," Felix whispered.
Zoom: Well, all except for the ones that weren't...
Tim: Congrats, I knew you had in in ya!
"I'm going to check the courts now. Will you help me with getting equipment so I can at least make it look good?" Felix nodded, and James Bond, armed with Her Majesty's Secret Service Credit Card, purchased four hundred seven dollars worth of tennis shoes, clothes and equipment. There was a message waiting for him when he got back to his room. "Mr. Harris," an all-too-familiar voice snapped, "what the devil do you think you're doing? Four hundred seven dollars on tennis equipment? Make sure that it arrives promptly in acquisitions on your return. We can no longer afford to treat our agents to working vacations!" He sighed at M's rebuke. Damn the age of computers. In the old days, it would have been easy to destroy the receipt, and accounting would have no idea what he had spent--other than on replacing destroyed cars and associated property damage.
Tim: Lord knows that there was assloads of that!
Graham: Lord also knows he got those asses too.
Number two burst into the study. "Master, I have some disturbing news," she breathlessly said. She stopped short, realizing that he was probably unable to hear. Number fifty-one, a lithe oriental woman, was grinding purposefully as she straddled his face. Number forty-four, a curly-haired brunette, was riding his cock. Number two sighed. She went to the desk--number fifty-one reached eagerly for her as she passed. Under normal conditions, Celeste would have enjoyed the diversion, but now was not the time. "Your mistress commands you both to come!" she said. Fifty-one squealed, and forty-four grunted. The oriental woman bucked repeatedly, then seemed to freeze before giving one gigantic shudder. Master gurgled.
Graham: Don't you mean gargled? he does have a lot of liquids in his mouth right now, after all.
Celeste regretted having wasted Mai Sun's sweet woman cum, but she had to stop what was going on, so she could talk to Master now. She watched his hips thrust up forcefully. "OHHHH! YES!!! MAAAAASSSTERRRR!!!! YEESSS!!!" Forty-four's climactic scream prefaced her collapse.
"Celeste, what was so damn important?" Master was definitely very pissed off. He disengaged from both women with slurping noises. "Couldn't it wait?"
"No, Roger, it couldn't. Ernst Blofeld and four goons just arrived on the island!" She watched with envy as he deliberately cleaned himself up before addressing her. Such control and calm... it made her pussy twitch very strongly for him.
Tim: Not even a modern bond movie is THIS blatant! This man deserves an award for being blunt!
Graham: I feel the urge to use something blunt on this story…
Zoom: A hammer? A flat shovel? I can find one…
"We can take care of the goons, then, but let's leave Blofeld for a bit. Mai Sun, your master commands." The oriental girl's eyes lidded. "Shadow, there are four men here on the island I want you and your company to kill. Number two will provide descriptions, details and anything else you need."
"Yes, Master. I obey," the entranced woman replied.
"What about Bond?" Celeste asked with a note of concern. "I bet they're here to kill him while they're trying to get the secret from us. I thought you wanted him alive for something?"
He nodded. "I think I have just the perfect person in mind to-- protect Mr. Bond." A mischievous smile lit up his face. "And I think you know who I mean." He looked at Celeste Grundy--she smiled back, fully aware of the irony. He wiggled a finger, summoning her for a kiss. She leaned forward to oblige, and put her hand on his cock. She was panting very softly. "You have work to do--later, my darling Celeste," he said.
"Yes, my Master," she breathed, disappointed, and still hot. She led the other two women out of the study, not wanting to look at him, to keep from losing her control.
Tim: What control? She's a sex hungry slut through and through!