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Old 21st September 2010
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Deepika Padukone stories....

Guys....in this thread u'll find stories where Deepika Padukone is potrayed as a spygirl/superheroine and faces various kinds of physical and sexual perils....the first story i've already posted in my thread Stories-bollywood, but i will post it here once again as its a exclusive Deepika Padukone thread...the other stories are new.....So enjoy!!!!and give ur feedbacks.......

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So here is the story starring Deepika Padukone which was posted earlier...this story is a mild one.....this story and the next one will have mild sexual situations....more intense sexual situations will come later...so here's is the first story starring.....

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It was only 10.30am and M was already having a lousy day. Bad enough to make him show someone else what a really lousy day was like.

‘Miss Moneypound!’ he barked into his intercom. ‘Where is Agent W7? She should have been in here an hour ago!’

‘Yes, I’m sorry sir,’ came his secretary’s voice, crisp with buttoned-down tension. ‘She was notified, but no one seems to know quite where she is just now.’

‘What about Q? He should have been in here with those schematics.’

‘I know, but I’m afraid... Oh, wait. Here they are now.’

‘Finally! Send them...’ M scowled as the padded leather door of his plush office was hurled open without giving him a chance to finish. ‘Never mind,’ he grumbled, ‘I’ll tell them myself.’

With brooding ill will he glowered at the two people who came tumbling hurriedly into his presence. The man was a tall, bespectacled figure in a white lab coat, his tangled greying hair even more unkempt than usual, his ill-fitting garments more clumsily put on. Buttons had been pushed into the wrong holes and M suspected his shoes were on the wrong feet.

‘Terribly sorry I’m late, sir,’ he apologized breathlessly. ‘I was showing W7 the new high velocity spring-loaded torpedo launchers and we lost all track of time!’

The woman at his side had come in looking as rushed as he, but as always somehow she was able to restore her shoulder-length dark hair to immaculate glossy perfection with a single languid shake of her head. She was flawlessly turned out in a sober charcoal business suit which couldn’t hide the supple swell of firm, shapely breasts and the curve of a perfect peach-shaped ass. The skirt ended just below the knee to display shapely stocking-clad calves. As always, the corner of her thin sexy lips was curled up in a half smile, and her dark, lively eyes sparkled with that infuriating little touch of mockery.

‘It was very impressive,’ she said solemnly. ‘Q’s high velocity spring-loaded torpedo launcher is the biggest I’ve ever seen. You really should try it yourself, sir.’

‘I’m not interested in Q’s high velocity...’

M bit down on his thunderous response on seeing the twinkle in her eye which told him he was making a fool of himself in some way he couldn’t quite fathom.

‘One of these days you’ll go too far, W7,’ he growled. ‘I’ll take you off active duty and you’ll spend the rest of your career working at a desk!’

Deepika Padukone smiled, not without a trace of fondness for the old man, and sauntered over to slide her bottom up onto his desk, letting her skirt ride up above her knees as she twisted around towards him, crossing her legs with a tantalizing hiss of nylons.

‘Oh, you wouldn’t would you?’ she murmured. ‘What possible use could you have for me on a desk?’

M’s eyes were drawn irresistibly to the slowly increasing length of unveiled thigh his agent was displaying, but his loss of concentration was temporary.

‘All right, that’s enough. Sit down, both of you, we have important matters to discuss.’

Deepika made no protest, hopping down off the desk and straightening her skirt. She sat in the indicated chair, hands folded meekly in her lap, her elegantly sculpted features face a picture of respectful attention. M knew that meant she was laughing at him, but he soldiered on and turned to the plasma TV which overlooked his desk.

‘This recording was received by Her Majesty’s Government this morning,’ he said gruffly as Q took his seat alongside Deepika. ‘I want you both to attend closely.’

At the click of a remote control the screen brightened into life and was filled with the leering skull-like face of about the most villainous character Deepika had ever seen. Chin, scalp and flaring nostrils equally devoid of a single hair, he goggled out of the screen at them through thick circular glasses and bared yellowed teeth over a damp, protruding lower lip. He settled back into a great black swivel chair, pulling a white lab coat about his lean, hunched shoulders.

‘Greetings, ladies and gentlemen of the British government,’ he proclaimed expansively. ‘Some of you will already know me. I am Professor Alcibiades, and I have an announcement to make of great import.’

The malevolent-looking figure hunched forward in his seat, the tip of his tongue flicking greedily over his lips.

‘Examine the plans I’ve sent you and I think you’ll find they’re more than enough to demonstrate I’m not bluffing. I have the power to crack open the Earth’s crust beneath your very feet. Cause an earthquake which will devastate your cities and plunge much of Southern England beneath the waves forever! All I ask in return for sparing your lives is the paltry sum of ten billion pounds. To be paid within twenty-four hours of your receiving this message, I’m afraid, so the clock is ticking! Pay up... or start taking swimming lessons, it’s your choice.’

He smirked as if visualizing the indignation and protests of the recipients.

‘I’ll be back in touch soon with instructions for payment. Till then!’

With a flourish he stabbed a control on the arm of his seat and the screen went dark. Grim-faced, M looked across at his two visitors.

‘You begin to understand why I specified that you were required in my office urgently?’

Deepika actually looked a little guilty, her eyes flickering away to one side.

‘Perhaps we should have cut short that last round of... technical briefing.’

‘Never mind that now.’ M threw a sheaf of papers across to Q. ‘See what you make of these. But I’m assured by government scientists that this man is well capable of doing what he says.’

‘Oh, I’m sure of it, sir,’ Q replied. ‘He was once a very respected man, till his schemes for control of the movement of the Earth’s crust became too grandiose and his funding was cut off. If he says he can do it then I don’t doubt him.’

‘So.’ Deepika stretched out her long legs and parked them crossed at the ankles on the edge of M’s desk. ‘I’m to track this character down and take him out of circulation?’

M shook his head.

‘We already know his location. He has somehow been able to construct an undersea base less than a mile off the coast of Cornwall. An ideal spot to attack the fault lines beneath our country, so I’m told.’

‘So no problem then!’ She spread her hands. ‘The navy feeds him a couple of depth charges and we get the afternoon off! Lunch, anyone?’

‘It’s not that simple. The base is heavily defended and well armored. It would be almost impossible to take out in a single strike without giving him a chance to carry out his threat first.’

‘I see.’ She ruffled a hand breezily through the dark waves of her hair. ‘And do I get the sense that the words “An army can’t get in but one woman just might” are marching in the direction of this conversation?’

‘The Prime Minister has agreed an attempt should be made,’ he responded gravely. ‘I’ve told him you’re the very best I have.’

Agent W7's face brightened with a childlike joy.

‘Did you? Oh, that’s so sweet!’ She leapt up and clasped his face between her palms, planting an enthusiastic kiss on his cheek. ‘Thanks, chief.’

‘Stop that.’ He shook her off irritably. ‘And don’t ever call me that again.’

‘Sorry, boss man.’

She dropped back obediently into her seat, still smiling sunnily. He eyed her with exasperation.

‘This isn’t going to be a walk in the park, W7. Alcibiades has used the expectation of the money he’ll extort from us to gather a private army. That base is like a fortress, and it’s going to be difficult for you to carry enough explosives to cripple the whole place.’

‘I think I can help with that,’ Q piped up, lifting his nose from the sheaf of papers M had handed him. ‘These plans are only partial of course, but I see the principle. I’m fairly certain I can tell W7 how to rig Alcibiades’ device so that instead of attacking the fault lines under Britain it will turn in on itself. Destroy the base completely.’

M chewed this over, frowning.

‘It sounds risky. To sabotage the machine itself she’d have to make her way into the very heart of the complex...’

‘... through a subtle blend of stealth and violence!’ Deepika finished cheerfully. ‘Two of my favorite things. I’d say we have a plan.’

‘All right.’ M nodded reluctantly. ‘We have very little time. There’s a helicopter waiting outside to take you to Cornwall. Q, you’d better go along and give her your instructions on the way.’

‘Yes sir.’

The pair gave their simultaneous affirmation and rose from their seats. Before they could leave M took Deepika lightly by the elbow, his craggy old face softening with genuine concern.

‘Deepika, please do be careful. I wish there were another way of handling this.’

She drew breath for a careless dismissal of his fears, then met his eyes and paused. Her features steadied, the frivolity slipping away to reveal a glimpse of the steel which lay beneath. She gave him a kindly smile and spoke softly:

‘Don’t worry old man, I’ll be fine. You know me - indestructible.’

* * *

Lurking in the almost total blackness of the ocean floor, Professor Alcibiades’ underwater base crouched like a great steel spider, mighty branches of steel spreading out around the central dome and digging down into the seabed. Here and there the light of a porthole glinted in the murk, standing out like diamonds against the slimy armored bulk of the structure, and cutting hazily through the water were the twin searchlights built into the nose of a tiny one-man submarine.

The base’s defenses were instantly alert, coded transmissions pulsing out to the oncoming craft and torpedo bays sliding open and ready for any incorrect response. The codes came back - all correct. Secondary codes were sent and responded to without delay. The torpedo tubes were stood down and bright white light split into being in the side of the dome as a great shielded door twenty feet high and forty feet across slid open to welcome the sub home.

A lean, weatherbeaten man in his thirties waited on the platform as the submarine surfaced in the docking bay inside the base. It was a vast chamber with an expanse of water leading down to the outer doors, a steel gantry for a jetty and a row of other undersea vehicles safely stowed on their wheeled trailers. He called out a greeting to the man who dragged open the cramped little cockpit.

‘Welcome back. So how’d she handle?’

The younger man nodded thoughtfully whilst squeezing himself up out of his seat.

‘Not bad. Good, actually. But I felt some kind of bump when I was halfway back, and after that... didn’t seem damaged but the handling was sort of sluggish.’

‘Hm. Could have hit a shark or something maybe? I’ll check out the guide fins. I wonder if...’

Engrossed in their discussion, they didn’t notice the dark shape which detached itself from the underside of the sub and with a snakelike sinuous motion traveled underwater to the far side of the dock. Shedding her flippers, oxygen tank and mask and letting them sink to the bottom, Agent W7 surfaced cautiously, casting a glance back at the talking men, and with a single smooth motion pulled herself up out of the water onto dry land.

Water streamed from the oily black surface of her wetsuit, its skintight rubber clinging to her curves and putting her luscious, petite body on display. Barefoot, she padded swiftly across the metal floor to the nearest doorway and slipped inside.

As she’d suspected, it was a storeroom, row after row of steel lockers taking up the main space and high shelves loaded with bulky diving equipment around the walls. She opened up the nearest locker and grinned triumphantly.


Inside was someone’s spare clothes - a beige uniform with a long white lab coat. She was just pulling the coat out ready to try it on for size when she suddenly froze like a statue.

The far door swung open and the heavy boots she had heard approaching along the corridor clumped heavily into the room. A guard in olive green paramilitary fatigues and cap, pistol holstered at his hip, began a bored inspection of the locker room, taking his time to prowl along the aisles between storage units. He rounded one corner, finding nothing, then another, still nothing. He was unprepared on rounding the third corner to come face to face with a striking brunette in a skintight rubber outfit.

Deepika grinned at him brightly.

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The knotted ball of her fist smacked with stunning force into the center of his face. Nimbly she darted round behind him in time to catch his limp, unconscious bulk before it hit the ground, and briskly began packing him away into the nearest locker.

‘Hey, Terry, are you in...’

Deepika winced at hearing the voice from the door behind her. She twisted round to see the second armed guard standing there, his puzzlement at not finding his companion darkening swiftly into suspicion at finding her.

‘Crap,’ she muttered. ‘I mean...’ She gave him a sunny smile. ‘Hi there! How’s it going?’

He drew his gun and cocked it in the fast, practiced motion of a professional.

‘Who the hell are you?’ he barked. ‘What are you doing in here?’

She widened her eyes, giving him her innocent look.

‘Nothing, nothing. Just been for a swim. I’m back on duty in five minutes so if you don’t mind I need to get changed.’

‘A swim?’ Brow creased with mistrust, he approached slowly, gun leveled at her heart.

‘Sure.’ She was conscious of the locker door beside her swinging slowly open under the unconscious guard’s weight and without looking she slammed it firmly shut with a thrust of one arm. ‘Are you interested in marine life? I’m sure I spotted a marlin today.’

With a careful display of unselfconsciousness, she stretched up one arm to the top of the locker, forcing her breasts up against the restraining material of her wetsuit, and shifted her weight onto one foot to display the curve of her hip.

‘You have a pass to go outside?’ he asked, his eyes starting to wander over her figure.

‘Of course.’

She took a step forward, patting her sides as if in search of a non-existent pocket. Immediately he leveled the weapon.

‘Stay back!’


She quickly put her hands up high and retreated all the way to the far wall, beneath the shelter of one of the shelving units, forcing him to follow her.

‘No need to be like that,’ she said reproachfully. ‘Obviously I don’t have my pass on me, it’s in my locker. Why don’t I show you?’

The guard frowned.

‘I never heard of anyone getting a pass to go outside and look at the fishes. You’d better come along with me to security. We’ll soon get to the truth.’

Deepika’s lips formed a perfect ‘O’ of woeful distress.

‘Oh, must I?’ she asked plaintively. ‘It’s just that I’m supposed to...’

‘Quiet.’ He jerked the gun at her. ‘And since you’re unidentified you have to be searched. Get that suit off.’

She quailed, hugging her arms shyly about her midriff.

‘Oh. Um, it’s just that I don’t have... much on underneath...’

‘Get on with it. You waste my time, you’ll get yourself in worse trouble.’

With a resigned sigh Deepika did as she was told. Slowly, with every sign of reluctance, she pulled the zip down from her neck to her waist and watched the guard’s eyes tighten over the muzzle of his gun as inches of wet, gleaming skin were unveiled. Underneath she wore only the briefest of orange bikinis, and as she slipped the suit down over her shoulders she bashfully pulled it close about herself, pushing her breasts together and forward, making the flimsy garment’s material strain to hold them in.

The guard licked his lips.

‘Come on. No stalling.’

Forlornly she obeyed, pushing the wetsuit down over her slim hips and letting its wrinkled, empty mass slide down the silky skin of her thighs to lie at her ankles. Her bikini bottoms had become rolled down an inch or two during the operation, displaying her flat belly and hips to her interrogator’s avid, lustful eyes. She raised her hands again.

‘As you can see,’ she said with just a hint of a coquetry, ‘I’m not hiding anything.’

For a few seconds he was content just to stand and eat her up with his eyes; her toned, lightly tanned skin, her small, pert breasts, the sexy thighs which writhed enticingly together as in her embarrassment she attempted to hide herself from him. He snapped himself out of it and jerked his head towards the door.

‘Okay. Get moving, then.’

‘Wait!’ She swallowed and looked down nervously at her feet. ‘I... I don’t really have a pass, you know.’

Confidence swelling at having elicited the admission, he took a step nearer.

‘I knew it.’

‘I didn’t mean any harm,’ she protested appealingly. ‘Honestly, I just wanted to see the coral reefs. They say we’re going to destroy Britain tomorrow so I thought it might be my last chance!’

‘That’s not going to impress my section chief when I turn you in. You’ll get a month’s punishment detail, minimum.’

‘Oh, please.’ On the verge of tears, her lips quivered. ‘Do you really have to turn me in? Couldn’t you, I mean...’ She looked at him in desperate hope. ‘Couldn’t you maybe give me a break just this once? I’d be ever so grateful.’

He smiled and took another step closer so he could stretch out his arm and rest the muzzle of his gun in her cleavage. She shivered but remained still, her hands stretched up over her head.

‘How grateful is that?’ he asked.

‘I’d be very...’ She felt the gun barrel move down between her breasts, pressing down on her bikini top. ‘... very...’ The skimpy garment stretched under the pressure, her breasts millimeters away from popping free. ‘Grateful!’

With a sharp tug she brought the overhead shelf crashing down. Flattening herself back against the wall, she stood and watched the guard get buried under a noisy avalanche of carelessly stowed scuba gear. Deepika allowed herself a smile at the sight of his gun hand sticking up out of the heap, the automatic still clutched in his fist.

‘Thanks,’ she said, and plucked it from his limp fingers. Hurriedly she raided the locker she had spotted earlier and was still pulling the ill-fitting garments on when she made her way out through the door the guards had come in by, finally penetrating the inner corridors of the complex itself.

* * *

After stopping to ask the way a couple of times, Deepika had little difficulty in finding the main control room. This, she reflected, was the advantage of infiltrating a fortress which was supposed to be impregnable - once you were in, everyone assumed you were meant to be there.

Heavy double doors slid aside to admit her and she surveyed the scene. There were about twenty people here, mostly technical staff milling around the two great semicircular banks of computers which flanked the room. She counted two... no, three who were armed. Two of the olive-green guards and another in a paler uniform with no cap who might be an officer. And there in the center was the man himself! Professor Alcibiades surveyed the scene from his vast leather swivel chair, his lean body sprawled and still, only his face constantly alive and mobile, his square yellow teeth flashing their crocodile smile. His head rolled from side to side to survey the activity taking place around him, never hesitating to bark out sharp commands or corrections at his subordinates’ slightest technical error.

Deepika took a deep breath.

‘Here goes nothing,’ she told herself. She fired a single bullet from her pistol into the ceiling of the chamber.

The sound of the shot caught even her by surprise. In the domed metal space it rolled around like the clang of a great bell and the effect on the occupants of the room was electric. Men and women froze stiff, crouched and wide-eyed, pens and clipboards slipped from rigid fingers, and in that second’s breathing space Deepika darted forward and plucked the gun from the officer’s holster.

‘Good afternoon!’ she shouted out. With one foot in the man’s back she propelled him away from her towards the startled technicians. ‘Please don’t panic, this is a stick-up. You two...’ She leveled both guns at the guards who had found the presence of mind to reach for their weapons. ‘I’d like you to take those guns out of your holsters with your fingertips and lay them down on the floor. Then I’d like everybody to move to the center of the room, right here where your boss’ chair is.’

Slowly, technicians and guards alike started to comply with her commands. Her eyes darted from one to another in search of a sign of rebellion and found it only in the officer whose gun she had stolen. He was a thickset, heavy man, a layer of fat over a greater bulk of muscle, fair hair brushed forward over his square block of a head, a determinedly jutting chin. He was the one who, when she looked at him, looked right back at her, his hard little eyes dark with intent.

‘Very good, very good, that’s fine,’ she called out. ‘Now I just need to make one or two tiny adjustments to your earthquake machine right here and then I’ll be out of your way.’

One eye on her captives who now thronged together in the center of the room, she trotted over to the section of the machinery she recognized from Q’s hasty description and badly-drawn diagram. She holstered the gun in her right hand and began to operate the controls in a memorized sequence.

‘Young woman.’ The voice which spoke up was one she recognized. Alcibiades. ‘Surely you don’t imagine you can escape this complex?’

‘Well, as I understand it,’ she told him, not pausing in her task, ‘when I get done here we all have around ten minutes before the whole place tears itself to bits. My thinking is you’ll all be too busy fighting over the last escape pod to worry about little me.’

‘Ten minutes?’ His voice was soft and even. ‘That’s not very much time to run to an exit, find transport, get underway and make it to a safe distance. Have you considered the significant chance that you will be one of those who don’t make it?’

‘Yes, I have. What’s your point?’

‘Simply that whoever sent you on such a forlorn hope of a mission with such a slim chance of survival clearly doesn’t value you as you deserve. Come now, why not work for me instead? I’m about to become a billionaire, and a woman of your undoubted talents should aim to be something more than a civil servant.’

‘What’s the dental plan like?’

Deepika kept the gun leveled with her left hand while her right didn’t pause in tapping at the controls. Alcibiades’ eyes narrowed.

‘You jest, but you’re wrong to do so. In twenty years’ time, if you live that long, you’ll be a middle-aged woman with fading looks working in some dusty government office dreaming of past adventures. Don’t you aspire to a retirement with a little more glamour?’

She stabbed a final button and turned to face him.

‘All very impressive, Professor, but you’re forgetting one thing. You’re not going to be a billionaire, you’re about to become the owner of one very thoroughly wrecked underwater base. If I was looking to cushion my retirement, I wouldn’t be turning to a loser like you.’

With finality she tugged the main lever to begin the chain reaction. Too late she saw the flare of Alcibiades’ secret, exultant smile and knew there was danger. She felt the agonizing jolt run from the lever into the very bones of her arm, penetrating her tissues like a thousand hot needles, exploding like a black cloud in her mind.

She was aware of her knees buckling beneath her, but oblivion washed over her and she never felt herself hit the floor.

* * *

In the operations room aboard the aircraft carrier Hermes, the Prime Minister, the Minister of Defense, the Chief of the Defense staff, the Home Secretary and M clustered around a TV screen. It showed them a spy plane’s pictures of that placid little stretch of ocean under which lay Professor Alcibiades’ fortress. Fretting, hoping, they awaited the blast of an underwater explosion which would show them that their agent had succeeded and all was well. M looked once again at his watch, well aware that she should have had time to penetrate the control room by now, and well aware of the sideways glances thrown at him by the important men whom he had persuaded to authorize the operation.

So on edge for the first sign of success were they that when the screen fizzed and crackled they started from their seats, drawing breath for a cry of triumph, but it was just some interference in the image. The operator frowned and busied himself over the equipment.

‘Sorry, sirs,’ he called out. ‘Signal seems to be weakening. I’ll try and trace the problem.’

‘No, wait.’ M had seen the blurred image sharpening and crystallizing on the screen. ‘What’s this?’

The image resolved itself in seconds into Alcibiades’ grinning skull-like countenance. Somehow he genuinely seemed able to see the distinguished company who gaped at him in furious horror. His laugh was a dry cackle.

‘Good afternoon, gentlemen. Sorry to interrupt your viewing, but I’m afraid there aren’t going to be any explosions for you to watch today. Allow me to prove the point.’

He gestured with one hand and the camera focus zoomed steadily out to reveal more of his control room. M watched in suspicious puzzlement the computers, the guards, the working technicians... and he started back in his seat with a cry.

Securely bound to the steel central pillar, Agent W7 stood on display to the astonished, staring eyes of the entire crisis cabinet. She was gagged with a strip of cloth, writhing uselessly against her ropes, and stark naked. Her tanned, flawless body glowed like a sculpture in the middle of the control room’s ugly functionalism.

Exposed to the chilly air of Alcibiades’ control room, her ankles bound tightly together, her wrists pulled back behind the pillar and chewing on the wad of cloth stuffed into her mouth, Deepika felt her cheeks blush hot as the five men gaped at her from the big viewscreen. Horrified at what they were seeing, they still instinctively ran their eyes over her body. Even M fumbled with his words.

‘You... wha... what are you doing to her?’

Alcibiades chuckled gleefully.

‘Makes a pretty ornament, doesn’t she? I must thank you for sending me such an attractive little saboteur. Incidentally you might congratulate whoever coached her on how to destroy my machine. The principle was very sound, he wasn’t to know that I built in an extra security measure. Anyone who attempts to initiate the process without typing in a secret code is given an electric shock powerful enough to down a horse.’

‘Professor Alcibiades.’ His eyes still wandering of their own accord to the bound captive, the Prime Minister found the focus to speak. ‘I demand to know your intentions now.’

‘My intentions? Much the same as before. I shall destroy your damp little country unless I receive the very reasonable payment of 10 billion pounds which I have requested. The only difference is that I’ve decided to cut the time left to you. I now require your answer within two hours from this moment!’

He grinned triumphantly at the impotent consternation of the assembled dignitaries.

‘Farewell until then. While I await your reply, perhaps I shall see if your pretty spy can be persuaded to provide some entertainment.’

He blanked the screen with a flourish and Deepika felt a glimmer of relief. Here she stood naked and defenseless in a room full of enemies, yet somehow to be shown like a trophy to a friend had been the worst of all.

Rising from his seat, Alcibiades advanced slowly and tugged the gag down from her mouth, leaving it loosely encircling her throat. Deepika spat out the ball of cloth and gulped to get some moisture back to her dry tongue.

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Last edited by abswonder : 27th September 2010 at 03:21 AM.

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‘Perhaps you are regretting not taking my offer of employment?’ he asked softly, standing close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. ‘Too late for that now, but I have some ideas as to how you might serve me all the same.’

‘Oh, surprise me,’ she muttered.

His hands moved slowly up her flanks, fingertips just brushing her skin and making her shiver, and cupped her small yet perky breasts, lifting them and feeling their weight and softness.

‘Lovely,’ he crooned. ‘Lovely.’

Deepika closed her eyes, reaching for something to say. Something to show he wasn’t getting to her.

‘You really think they’ll pay up?’ she asked.

Slowly his thumbs stroked the tips of her dark brown nipples while he answered.

‘I don’t see why not. It’s a small price to pay to prevent the destruction of the whole of the south of England. If not...’ He pinched her nipples gently. ‘Then the catastrophe will be on their own heads and will provide a useful example. The next country to which I make the same threat will, I suspect, be more reasonable.’

Deepika bit her lip as he started to roll her nipples teasingly between his fingers and thumbs. Her voice snapped out sharply.

‘My tits aren’t a radio, you know. They won’t pick up Classic FM no matter how much you twiddle ‘em.’

She had the satisfaction of seeing his fixed grin sour a little. Then his palm pressed onto her midriff and slid slowly down over her taut belly, all the way to between her legs. She grimaced, clenching her teeth, but refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her try to squirm away from him when he rubbed steadily at the fleshy mound of her pubis.

‘Seriously, how old are you?’ she said, her voice stretched taut. ‘I haven’t been groped this clumsily since I was sixteen.’

Alcibiades snatched his hand away, an ugly twist of spite suffusing his features.

‘Silly slut! You’ll come round. Major Norton!’

The heavily built officer clumped into view, the one with the hard, cruel little eyes. He threw the half salute of an ex-military man.


‘Take her away.’ Alcibiades’ cold eyes didn’t leave her face as he spoke. ‘Take her away and bring her back in a more tractable frame of mind.’

Norton’s broad lips curved upwards and he looked her over with the satisfaction of ownership.

‘My pleasure.’

* * *

Deepika didn’t resist while Norton fastened the final clamp into place, leaving her stretched out on her belly with her wrists and ankles all firmly pinned down. She lay on a white plastic platform which curved over in an arch so that she was bent forward, her bare behind sticking up invitingly in the air. The little room to which Norton and an armed escort had shepherded her was cramped, with barely enough space for the strange couch on which she was secured, the control panel and its operator, Norton himself and a couple of guards who stood there with their arms folded and broad grins on their faces, enjoying the scene.

Norton gave a nod to the technician.

‘Stretch her out.’

Before she could ask herself what this might mean, a button was pressed and the clamps jolted into motion, dragging her wrists and ankles in opposite directions with irresistible mechanical force, forcing from her a gasp as her joints were pulled to the verge of dislocation. Her body was held taut over the arch, every muscle immobilized.

Norton took a leisurely moment to look her over and enjoy her discomfort before giving the operator another nod.


In disbelief Deepika twisted her head around and saw twin doors pop open in the sides of the machine. Articulated arms folded out, each one terminating in a flat strip of plastic a foot long, four inches wide and a good half inch thick. They were perforated with holes the better, she realized dumbfoundedly, to minimize air resistance as they swung through the air. The arms curled in over her, the paddles held poised over her defenseless buttocks.

‘Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.’

Norton chuckled at her look of wide-eyed trepidation.

‘Shouldn’t have been rude to the Professor, girl. This is something he knocked together during his breaks from taking over the world.’

She looked up, her head the only part of her body she could move.

‘You know you’re working for a maniac, right?’

He shrugged.

‘Maybe. But pretty soon he’s going to be the richest maniac in the world with the possible exception of Roman Abramovich. That means I want to keep him happy, and right now that means getting rid of that attitude of yours. Brace yourself, spygirl.’

With a quick lick of his lips he turned again to the technician.

‘Go ahead.’

She’d tensed herself at his words, but was still unprepared for the shock of impact as the first paddle smacked down onto her buttocks. A burst of pain at the point of impact ran in a cold, hard wave through her whole body. She had no time to recollect herself before the second paddle whacked down on the same spot and she clenched her teeth to keep from crying out. The first paddle had instantly drawn back and struck her again, and so it went on. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. The sound of Deepika’s punishment filled the little room and she pressed her forehead down against the cold surface of the couch and steeled herself to endure.


In the wash of relief as the paddles stilled at Norton’s quiet word of command, she had to brush aside the irrational trace of gratitude she felt towards him for making it stop. His beefy hand grasped her by the hair and dragged her head up to look at him.

‘How are we doing?’

She looked him steadily in the eye.

‘Not really any more tractable, I’m afraid. Little bit angrier, though.’

He nodded with a grim smile.


Norton let her head fall back down, and snapped his fingers at the operator.


The breath hissed between Deepika’s teeth as the beating resumed. Each whack hurt worse than the last on her tender, reddening skin. She looked to one side and saw the guards leaning against the wall, enjoying every moment, the crotches of their pants tenting over their swelling pricks. Time crawled horribly by. A minute? Two? Tears started from her eyes, her iron self control slipped a notch, and a grunt of pain escaped her lips. She threw her head back, clenching her fists, and futilely started to twist her hips from side to side in a vain attempt to escape the remorseless, pitiless machine.

Norton’s laugh rang across the room. He stood in front of her with fists on hips, perfectly at ease and looking ready to let this continue all day.

‘I think we’re getting through to her!’

Perspiring now, her nude body gleaming with moisture, she was no longer able to keep from moaning and crying out under the paddles.

‘Agh! Oww! Uhh!’

Hearing that voice it was hard to believe it was hers. Not that piteous cry of helpless distress, breathy with incipient tears, cracking with desperation. Panic rose suffocatingly in her breast at the realization that this was going to go on just as long as her smirking tormentor pleased. Like a stupid rookie she struggled ever harder against her unbreakable bonds, achieving nothing but to amuse her captors still further, and her sharp mind became clouded with no thought but to escape this childish, humiliating punishment. She bared her teeth like a trapped animal, tossed her head wildly, wailed like a girl and cried out in despair:

‘Stop! Please stop!’


She gasped in relief as Norton gave the command and the thrashing ceased. Limp and drained, she had no words when again he pulled her head back and trailed a stubby fingertip along the skin under her eye, hold it up to the light to inspect the teardrop which glistened there.

‘So. Had enough?’

‘Yes,’ she gasped wearily, her voice a whisper. ‘Please no more.’

‘You’ll apologize nicely to the Professor?’

‘Yes. Anything.’

‘You’ll be a good girl and not embarrass me when I take you back to see him?’

‘Yes. I promise.’

He grinned his satisfaction.

‘There now. Wasn’t so hard, was it?’

He stepped sideways, running a hand up her back. She winced as he roughly clutched one of her poor, punished buttocks.

‘Mm, that’s hot to the touch. We could fry eggs on your ass, girl.’

He chuckled and stepped back. He gave the operator a nod.

‘Give her another five minutes.’


The paddles whipped back into action and beat out their merciless tattoo on her flesh.

* * *

Deepika was still gulping down her sobs when she was hauled back to the control room and dumped on her knees at Alcibiades’ feet. Her hands bound tightly behind her back, she knelt there with head bowed, her hair tumbling over her face, her shoulders shaking as she panted for breath.

The Professor looked her over with a smile, admiring the fierce pink glow of her behind.

‘Well now, I see you’ve learned a good lesson. Anything to say to me?’

Deepika didn’t raise her head as she mumbled in a quavering voice:

‘I’m very sorry I was insolent, Professor.’

‘That’s better.’ His chest puffed up in pride and pleasure at the sight of the beautiful young woman groveling naked at his feet. ‘But my subordinates address me as “Sir”.’

‘Yes Sir. Sorry Sir.’

‘Good girl. Now then...’ He leaned forward to lift her chin with his fingertips and examine her tear-stained face. ‘What are you going to do to convince me it’s worth keeping you alive?’

She trembled, nervous at facing him but not daring to anger him by looking away.

‘I’m at your mercy, Sir. I’ll do whatever you wish if you’ll spare my life.’

‘That’s the attitude I’m looking for.’ His eyes burned with lust as he admired the full curve of her bosom and the smooth skin of her splayed thighs. ‘Well, we still have over an hour before your government responds to my demands. I think it’s time I showed you round my bedroom, don’t you?’

‘Yes Sir.’

Shakily she managed to regain her feet and followed him with downcast eyes to a pair of sliding doors beside the main view screen. She was about to follow him inside when she felt a meaty grip on her upper arm and Norton’s voice muttered fiercely in her ear:

‘You’d better not be thinking of trying anything while you’re in there.’

Deepika glanced round at him but ducked her head fearfully.

‘Please... I just want to stay alive.’

‘Come on, what’s the hold up?’ Alcibiades’ voice called out crossly from the bedroom. Reluctantly Norton slackened his grip.

‘All right. Just remember I’m going to be right outside.’

She hurried on and the doors slid shut behind her. Professor Alcibiades’ quarters were luxuriously appointed with plush, ankle-deep carpets, fine artworks on the wall and, dominating the space, a huge four-poster bed with ornate gilt fittings and carved mahogany supports. He stood facing her, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

‘Onto the bed, girl.’

Meekly she complied, climbing up onto the four-poster and kneeling there while he stripped off his shirt, revealing a pale but lean and muscular torso. After a couple of hesitant attempts, she plucked up the nerve to speak:

‘Sir? May I... may I please have my hands untied so that I can please you more fully?’

He gave a snort of laughter.

‘Ha! Do I look that big a fool to you?’

‘Fair enough.’ She nodded her acceptance of his decision, and a hard spark of life flared in her voice. ‘In that case... I guess I’ll just have to do this the hard way.’

In an explosion of energy she leaped from the bed, flying feet first across the room to wrap her legs about the shocked Alcibiades’ throat. He crashed to the ground under the impact, his spluttering face forced up against her crotch and his neck squeezed suffocatingly between her thighs. His features contorted in fury, disbelief and terror.

‘Oh, stop complaining,’ Deepika muttered. ‘You’d pay two hundred pounds an hour for this in Soho.’

He gasped for breath, dragging in air to shout for help, and with a twist of her lithely muscled hips she wrenched his neck sideways, straining his spine almost to snapping point. ‘Now, you’re not going to disturb the nice people outside are you?’ She squeezed tighter, cutting off his air supply completely. ‘Nod your head if you understand I’d break your neck long before they reached you.’

His eyes blazed festering hatred up at her, but stiffly he gave a single nod and she eased the pressure just enough to let him have some air. He sucked in oxygen and whispered up at her in a malevolent hiss:

‘You bitch, I’ll see you suffer for this.’

‘Like you were going to be sweet to me otherwise. Now shut up because there’s only one thing I want to talk to you about. I’m going to figure out a way to get back out there and finish what I started, and to do that I need the security code for your earthquake machine. Don’t bother trying to trick me. I find guys have great difficulty lying convincingly when they have their faces stuffed in my pussy.’

Alcibiades bared his teeth furiously.

‘You’ll never get out of here alive. You’re alone, naked and unarmed in the middle of my base. What chance do you have?’

‘Let me worry about that. Now stop wasting time and speak up. I do have the option to just kill you and hope you’re the only one who knows how to work the machine.’

Sullenly, Alcibiades accepted the reality of the threat. Deepika watched his eyes closely as he spoke the numbers, alert for the telltale flicker which would tell her he was lying.

‘Three... eight... four... two... eight... five.’

She smiled her satisfaction and sat back on his chest.

‘Good boy. Now I’ll just...’

The impact on the back of her head came from nowhere. Black light scorched the inside of her skull and the world blinked out.

* * *

Norton raised the butt of his pistol ready for a second blow, but Agent W7 rolled limply sideways and slumped unconscious to the ground. Scowling, Alcibiades accepted the offer of a hand to help him struggle to his feet.

‘I hope, Major Norton,’ he snapped ungraciously, ‘that you didn’t disregard my specific instructions not to use the security cameras to watch us in here?’

‘No sir,’ Norton stated blandly. ‘I just thought I heard a suspicious noise and decided I’d better check.’

‘Hmm.’ Alcibiades gave him an unconvinced, penetrating look, but decided to let it go. ‘All right, then. Now go and pick out a presentable girl from the maintenance unit and send her to me here. I have some frustrations to work out.’

‘Yes sir. What about her?’

Alcibiades glanced down at Deepika’s crumpled figure and sniffed contemptuously.

‘She’s too much trouble to keep alive. Dispose of her.’


‘But make it a slow death, Norton.’ Alcibiades lip took on an ugly curl as his hate-filled eyes burned down at the bound, unconscious young woman. ‘I want her to have to time to think about what’s happening to her.’

* * *

With a skull-pounding headache and a fierce bruise swelling under her hair, Deepika concentrated on gathering her scattered wits as she was marched along a chilly, narrow corridor somewhere deep down in the utility decks of the base. Norton’s big hand shoved her roughly between the shoulders, making her stumble and almost lose her balance.

‘Pleased with yourself, eh? You could have had a pretty sweet deal as the Professor’s plaything, but you had to get smart and now you’re just going to be dead.’

‘Decided he wasn’t my type,’ she muttered.

Still naked, her wrists still bound, she didn’t waste time trying to think of a way to escape Norton and the six armed guards who surrounded her. The big soldier’s taunts had given her little idea of what fate he had in store for her. Only that it was going to be slow, and unpleasant, and he was going to enjoy it.

They marched to the end of the passageway, where a hinged metal grating was padlocked shut in the floor. Below, it was too dark to see what lay in wait, but a rank smell wafted up to Deepika’s twitching nostrils.

‘Right,’ said Norton, producing a fresh loop of rope. ‘Down on the floor. On your belly.’

She paused, then turned to him.

‘Okay - but if you’re going to kill me, don’t I get a last request?’ She slipped forward and pressed her body up against his, her breasts flattening against the muscular bulk of his torso, her head tilting back to look up at him with a pouty smile. ‘I haven’t had it since yesterday and I don’t want to die without one last shag. Come on, Norton, you’ve got time for a quick one, surely?’

His face expressionless, he slowly placed his hands on her shoulders and ran them exploratively down her body to clasp her buttocks. He held on tight, his powerful fingers tightening their grip till she winced from the pain. He chuckled derisively.

‘So you can look for a way to garrotte me with my own shoelaces? I don’t think so.’

In a sudden, violent move he seized her shoulders and thrust her down onto her knees, shoving her forward onto the floor and pinning her down with a foot in the small of her back. He twisted his boot against her spine and sneered at her whimper of pain.

‘Now let’s get you neatly packaged and ready for your final journey.’

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Old 21st September 2010
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abswonder abswonder is offline
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Deepika made herself conserve her energy and didn’t fight while her ankles were bound tightly together with loop after loop of strong nylon rope. She bit her lip when he dragged her wrists and ankles together and secured them with a fresh length of cord, grunting with the effort of pulling every knot tight to the limits of his strength. He stood up, leaving her hogtied and helpless on the cold metal floor, and nudged her with his booted foot.

‘To be honest, fucking you would be fun, but killing you is going to be better.’

He produced a key and unlocked the grating, hauling it open to unveil the black pit beneath. Turning to Deepika, he grabbed her by her bound wrists and ankles and heaved her up into the air, smiling at her grimace when he held her dangling powerlessly in his grip, her body arched back uncomfortably.

‘Ok, spy bitch. Time for you to go. Take a last look round.’

Her eyes widened as she was swung round towards the gaping hole in the floor.

‘No, wait!’

Her instinctive protest was in vain and she squeezed her eyes shut, tensing in fear at feeling herself dropped and plummeting down into the dark. Mercifully after ten feet she crashed down into something soft and yielding and she heard the laughter of the watching men from above.

‘How’s that feel? Comfortable?’

She opened her eyes and took in her new surroundings. She lay immobilized on her belly in the midst of a heap of discarded food cartons, plastic bottles, waste paper and congealed food leavings. Stirred up by the impact of her fall, a nauseating odor of mouldering waste rose up around her. Disgustedly she realized she was lying on something wet and clingy.

‘Urrgh. Gross.’

She twisted sideways, and with a gasp of alarm realized she had set off a miniature avalanche in the garbage pile. Helplessly she slid down towards the corner of the chamber, pelted by the trash falling along with her, and ended up twisted over on her side half buried in a deposit of potato peelings and long-cold baked beans. The men clustered round the hatch laughed harder than ever.

‘Whoops!’ Norton mocked her. ‘Careful, now, I wouldn’t like to think of some of the stuff that’s been dumped down here.’

‘You’re a sick man, Norton,’ she called back, struggling uselessly against her bonds. He chortled merrily.

‘Hey, I’m not so bad. You’re only going to be down there around ten or fifteen minutes. That’s when the sluice gates open, the ocean pours in there, and you’ll be washed out onto the seabed with the rest of the garbage! So that’s something for you to think about as you lie there in your heap of kitchen scraps.’

Deepika craned her neck from side to side and with her eyes becoming adjusted to the gloom was able to make out the thickly greased cogs, wheels and pistons of the machinery which would lift the walls at either end of the chamber. She shivered.

‘So bye bye now,’ continued Norton’s taunting voice. ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am that your last few minutes of life were spent being humiliated by me!’

‘I bet you used to wet the bed till you were twelve!’ she shouted back at him. The only reply was the sonorous clang of the grate slamming back into place, and the click of the padlock fastening it.

‘Ah well - not my snappiest comeback ever anyway,’ she muttered under her breath. She lay and listened to Norton giving orders to his men.

‘Right, all of you back to your duties. Except you. You stay right here. This grating stays locked till I come back to check, understand?’

‘Sir,’ came the dutiful response, and the heavy tramp of boots on metal floors accompanied Norton’s departure with the rest of his escort.


Deepika scowled and tested the strength of the ropes which bound her, twisting this way and that in search of something which might slip or stretch, but Norton had tied his knots with the skill and thoroughness of a professional. They were like iron, and she felt a dryness in her throat, a light fluttering in her belly, at the first inkling that this might finally be a situation she couldn’t improvise her way out of. She thrust the idea back down inside where it belonged, and thrashed around with all her strength to roll over and start an investigation of her prison.

Her body was slimed with the various sticky substances she had fallen and rolled in, her hair clogged with something chunky and half-solidified. She made herself ignore it and with another twist knocked over a fresh heap of trash. A dozen glass bottles rattled onto the floor.

‘Haven’t you people heard of recycling?’ she yelled up at the unheeding guard at the hatch.

She writhed along, inching forward like a worm across the floor and leaving a track through the garbage behind her, when her eyes widened to circles.

‘Oh, my,’ she murmured. ‘I wonder what else they don’t recycle?’

With a fresh burst of energy she managed to scoop out the bottom of another pile of trash with her knees and bring it tumbling down. Her eyes searched through the results as avidly as if they were prizes in a lucky dip, and her white teeth flashed exultantly when she found what she was looking for...

It was a discarded soup can, opened with its razor-edged top still attached. She gazed at it like it was gold and jewels.

‘Yes! Result!’

She reminded herself to keep her voice down and rolled over to grab the can with her bound hands. With a deep breath she made herself take her time and work with precision. Slowly, painstakingly, she started to saw her way one strand at a time through the ropes on her wrists. Minutes passed and she froze tensely at the sound of a great clank of machinery from behind the doors, but they remained closed and she closed her eyes for a second, gathering her calm, then set to work again.

Another strand was severed, then another, then another... And then there was another, louder clank, and a great rushing of water hurtling towards her. In one last desperate effort Deepika arched her back and pulled, every muscle in her well-toned body straining at once. The last frayed strands of the rope stretched, held... and snapped! Disorientatingly she was suddenly free, only her ankles remaining tied together. As the mighty steel door groaned open and the waters of the Atlantic flooded in upon her, she leaped like a dolphin, over the initial surge, and gripped a pipe of the hydraulics which operated the gate. An instant later she was submerged, the freezing torrent tearing at her, dragging at her, working to break her hold and carry her away to her doom. Bubbles of precious air emerged between her clenched teeth as she hung on.

‘At least I’ll go clean,’ she reflected as the sea washed the garbage from her hair and skin.

Her grip slipped little by little. One finger came loose from her hold completely and still the waters roared through the chamber. How long did the sluicing process take? How long?

* * *

A full hour later, Norton came marching back down the passageway to the grating where his appointed guard snapped to attention.

‘At ease,’ he grunted, throwing the man a careless salute. ‘Anything to report?’

‘No, sir,’ said the guard. ‘Haven’t heard anything since the waters came through. There was some noise before that.’

Norton smiled grimly, imagining the captive’s frantic attempts to struggle free.

‘All right, let’s check.’

He clicked on the heavy flashlight in his hand and shone the beam down through the bars, sweeping it from side to side to pick out the corners of the empty chamber below. There was nothing but wet, gleaming metal and puddles of seawater. Still Norton wasn’t satisfied.

‘Let’s open it up.’

Setting the flashlight aside, he used his key to unfasten the padlock. He was leaning forward, scanning the murky depths for any sign of movement, and totally unprepared when Deepika’s feet whipped up and crashed into the metal grate.

Clinging like a limpet to the ceiling support bars, she kicked upwards with the explosive power that came with knowledge that this was her one and only chance. The heavy steel cover burst upwards and struck Norton a shattering blow on the underside of his chin. He slumped limply forward and tumbled down through the hole to the steel floor below.

With the smooth power and agility of a trapeze artist Deepika swung her legs back for a fresh effort, then flipped herself up through the hatch, somersaulting feet first into the face of the dumbstruck guard who was still scrabbling clumsily for his gun when he found himself suddenly grappling face to face with a naked woman. Deepika stunned him with a jab of her elbow right between his eyes and drew his gun for him, Whirling around, she saw Norton drawing his own weapon, the black hole of its muzzle focusing hungrily upon her...

He was quick but she was a little quicker. A single sharp report filled the cramped corridor and a black stain spread on his shirt just above his heart. Norton’s face was a mask of hatred, his hand clinging onto his gun like grim death, his finger trembling on the trigger but lacking the strength to pull it. His eyes blurred and rolled up, and he died mouthing soundless curses.

Deepika watched him slump to the floor.

‘With the rest of the garbage,’ she murmured.

A sound behind her snapped her back to the present and in single smooth motion she turned on the dazed guard and flattened him with a sharp blow to the chin. She inspected his unconscious form thoughtfully. He was a smallish man, and pretty slim. Not exactly her size, but near enough.

* * *

She astonished herself with her own relief at the simple pleasure of wearing clothes again. Marching down the corridor to the control room, the guard’s military cap drawn well down over her face, passing men still eyed her body with yearning but she took on the self-confident swagger that came with the knowledge that they weren’t able to see it for real. She was enjoying herself. She swayed her hips to give them something to watch while she walked away from them.

Deepika slipped cautiously into the control room. A lucky break - the Professor wasn’t here. Still enjoying himself with some unfortunate girl from the maintenance unit, perhaps. Nonchalantly she strolled over to the control panels. No one moved to stop her or even glanced in her direction. She operated the controls as Q had instructed her, tapped in the code the Professor had given her, then pulled the big red lever.

A hundred alarms went off at once. Sirens shrieking in their ears, the technicians stumbled about in bewilderment and one by one turned to stare at Deepika. She gave them a little wave and a smile.

‘Yeah, hi. I’m told you’ve got ten minutes to evacuate the base. And the guy who told me that, I’ve found that sometimes things don’t take as long as he says they will, so you might want to get running right now.’

* * *

The complex was in chaos. Alarms still shrieking, the corridors were thronged with confused, panicking people struggling past one another with vague and contradictory ideas as to the best escape route. Half the escape subs were gone. People were starting to fight over those that remained.

In the midst of this, Professor Alcibiades shoved his way grim-faced through his disorganized staff. His perfect plan destroyed, all that was left was to get to his personal limosub and put some distance between himself and the British government’s retribution. And it was all the fault of that pesky secret agent whom he should have had shot the moment he saw her. Next time they met he would...

A strong hand grasped his collar and yanked him sideways through a door. Floundering to regain his balance, he stumbled back and found himself staring at Agent W7's grinning face.

‘You!’ he roared. ‘You meddlesome hussy! You have brought this calamity down upon me! I’ll kill you!’

He swung a punch but hit nothing but air. The young woman seemed to vanish, then pop up again out of nowhere and the next instant something exploded against his jaw and he was down on his knees, the world spinning crazily around him.

‘See now,’ came that mocking, infuriating voice. ‘I was all set to run back to the docking bay, pick up my scuba gear and leave with the rest of the rats, and then I thought “What about the Professor?” Do I really want to foil your plan and then hear you’ve done exactly the same thing somewhere else a couple of years from now? No, I think it’s best you stay right here.’

Deepika hauled her captive up to her feet by the scruff of his neck and threw him forward onto the arched platform with the steel wrist and ankle clamps. She was trying to keep this all business. Securing Alcibiades into place stretched out on the dais, she tried to pretend it wasn’t fun to do this to him at the scene of her own humiliation.

‘Release me!’ he roared, his skull-like face raising from the plastic surface. ‘I’ll kill you!’

‘Have you any idea how silly you look trying to threaten me while tied down to a table?’

Alcibiades struggled furiously against the steel clamps which he himself had designed. He sucked in a breath and addressed his captor with a sort of smile.

‘All right, Agent W7, you win. I congratulate you. Let me up and I’ll write you out a check right now for one million pounds. Don’t tell me there isn’t something you’ve always wanted that you could buy with that money.’

‘Well...’ Deepika scratched her head and considered. ‘I suppose I could watch a mass-murdering rapist die. Oh, wait. I can do that without your money. Cheerio.’

‘You filthy little whore!’ he screamed as she turned her back. ‘Someone someday will fuck your worthless slut’s body and throw what’s left to the dogs and I just wish I could be there to see it!’

He was red-faced, boiling with anger, all thoughts of self-preservation gone. But when she turned back to face him it was the very calm stillness of her wide, dark eyes which silenced him. They were not the eyes of a laughing bimbo who’d somehow got lucky, but a deadly professional he suddenly realized he’d been facing all along. She spoke lightly.

‘Fighting words from a man tied down to his own spanking machine.’

She stalked back towards him and in a single violent move yanked his pants down to his knees, baring a pair of pale, hairy buttocks. Alcibiades gaped in disbelief.

‘You... you can’t be serious...’

The twinkle was back in her eye as she gave him a light slap on the backside and strolled towards the instrument panel.

‘Come on, where’s your sense of humor? Hey, it’s lucky I memorized the controls on this thing when your men used it on me isn’t it? Never know when these little bits and pieces of knowledge will come in handy.’

She flicked a row of switches and Alcibiades twisted frantically from side to side, trying to see what was happening at the sound of the hatches in the side of the machine clicking open. The paddles on their articulated arms hovered over him threateningly.

‘No, please!’

Deepika gave him a wink and a smile and flicked the final switch.

‘Cheer up, it won’t be for long. The base is going to blow in a few minutes anyway. Have fun.’

She darted away out of the side door, pursued down the corridor by a roar of pain and rage, and the pitiless thwack, thwack, thwack of paddles on bare flesh.

* * *

Watching the spy plane’s pictures of the ocean with a desperate hope bordering on despair, the assembled dignitaries of the crisis cabinet rocked back wide-eyed in their chairs at the sight of a great white mushroom of seawater surging up from the depths. The cataclysmic blast of the station’s self-destruction lifted a thousand tons of water high into the air and let it crash back down in a swirling greenish maelstrom of foam and spray. A disbelieving cheer rang around the cramped environment of the operations room. M felt the Prime Minister’s excited hands on his shoulders.

‘She did it! Your agent did it! I apologize for doubting you, M, you were right all along. She must be an extraordinary woman.’

‘Yes.’ M’s voice was somber, his eyes fixed on the destructive chaos depicted on the screen. ‘But where is she?’

* * *

On the beach at Torbay, the surfers made the most of the rippling waves and modest rollers of the English coast. It wasn’t exactly Bondi Beach but the sun was out, the sand shone like gold, and surfing was surfing.

Don Griffin was balancing his way along the crest of a two foot wave, making the best of it, when his eyes widened and before he knew what was happening the wave swelled beneath him like a living thing, hurling him up a hundred feet into the air. That moment of pulse-pounding shock while he struggled desperately to keep his balance atop this monster lasted a second before segueing into jubilant euphoria at what was happening. He was a surf hero, he was riding the big rollers like in the movies! Just as he’d always dreamed it, he crouched and posed and kept his balance till the great wave rushed in to shore and broke itself against the beach, soaking the astonished sunbathers who had thought themselves safely in the dry. Laughing like a maniac he rolled over in the wet sand, shook water from the tousled mess of his hair and whooped his perfect happiness.

‘Whoo! Yeah! Where did that come from? Hey, Jimmy, did you see... oh no!’

In mid-crow he saw something that knocked the exultation from him like a punch in the stomach. Motionless on the sand which still seethed and bubbled in the wake of the departing wave lay a young woman, her eyes closed, her limbs limp. Don sprinted over to her and dropped to his knees at her side.

She was lovely, he realized, an instant before feeling guilty about thinking that about a drowning victim. Her sodden dark hair fell back from her face, revealing the beauty of her porcelain features and lucious lips. The tattered remains of the olive-green pants and shirt which were her only garments clung to her skin and displayed her toned body. The single remaining button on her shirt strained to contain her pert little breasts and the dark circles of her nipples showed through the soaked material.

‘Ok, don’t panic,’ Don muttered to himself. ‘Mouth to mouth.’

He pulled the young woman’s mouth open with his fingertips, gently pinched her nose, and pressed his lips to hers...

His eyes widened when her tongue slipped past his teeth and flicked teasingly against the roof his mouth.

‘Mmm, don’t stop’, she murmured as he sat bolt upright. She gave him the dirtiest smile he had ever seen, her lips pouting and curling up at one corner. ‘I could go for being rescued by a handsome surfer right now.’

‘You’re ok?’ he asked, weak with relief.

‘In the pink.’ She swung her legs up over her head, then brought them swiftly down and used the momentum to roll adroitly to her feet. She winced, rubbing her buttocks. ‘Oww. Well, all except that bit.’

There was a rueful laughter in her dark, lively eyes and Don found himself standing there for a little too long staring raptly into them. He pulled himself together.

‘Er - we’re having a beach party at dusk. I don’t suppose you’d like to...’

‘Oh, I wish I could,’ she said airily. ‘But I have to head straight back to London for debriefing and then write out my report in triplicate.’

‘Oh,’ he said forlornly. ‘Ok, well I guess...’

She slapped him in the chest with the back of her hand and laughed.

‘Kidding!’ She fell against him and swooned theatrically in his arms, her gleaming breasts testing that one pesky button to its limits. ‘Carry me away, handsome rescuer!’

His heart pattering quickly in his excitement, Don gathered this mysterious, gorgeous creature up in his arms and started to carry her away across the sands. She linked her arms behind his neck and waved her feet idly in mid-air.

‘I don’t suppose there’s anyone round here who’d swap me a bikini for an exploding ballpoint pen with a cyanide capsule in the lid?’


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And here's the second story of the sexy.....

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* * * * *

Very few people knew where Berzerkistan was. Of those who did, very few cared. Alexander the Great had pretended to lose that bit of the map in the Bosphorus. The hordes of Genghis Khan had swept irresistibly in only to sweep out the other side on their way to more pleasant climes. Stalin had ordered the plantation of a single drab city of grey concrete and forgotten about it the next day. Nobody wanted this windswept expanse of brownish grassland and broken rock. Nobody except the handful of scattered nomads who roamed its wilderness and a petty dictator who might brutalise his people here untroubled by the outside world.

The robed, dark-skinned man who leaned on his rifle by the ruins of the crashed Chinese plane pulled his scarf more tightly over his nose and mouth against the remorseless dust which blew across the plain and sighed with a familiar sense of resigned ennui at being reminded yet again that this, his country, the beloved land of his ancestors, was ultimately a dreary, worthless dump and always would be. He had leisure for his thoughts. Guard duty was not exactly stressful when he could stand here and see for miles across the featureless landscape in every direction. If anyone should approach, they would lack a scrap of cover and he would see them while they were still a dot on the horizon. Should he sight anyone, he would have all the time in the world to...


It was a woman’s voice, amiable and bright, and came out of thin air. Wide-eyed, the guard fumbled up his rifle and whirled round in disbelief that someone could be nearby. An instant later a booted foot swept round and struck him with pinpoint accuracy on the chin. He crashed to the dust like a felled tree.

DEEPIKA PADUKONE, Agent W7, pride of MI6, erotic fantasy of a hundred overworked civil servants, slammed down into the ground with both feet and turned to drag down the swirling white mass of her parachute after her. She gave the crumpled man a quick glance as she rolled it up in her arms but she knew he wouldn’t be getting up soon. In seconds she had reduced the parachute to a solid wedge of material at her feet and with the comforting metallic weight of her Walther PPK in hand she turned her attention to the crashed plane and the unoccupied jeep standing beside it.

In camouflage jacket and trousers and heavy military boots, DEEPIKA still possessed a luxurious beauty jarringly out of place in these bleak surroundings. Her sparkling dark eyes, untamable black hair and sexy lips belonged in a classy nightclub, not in this desolate wilderness. The bulky form of her jacket failed utterly to conceal her supple body, the smooth curve of her thighs, her body’s mouth-watering blend of athleticism and sexiness. She approached the downed plane with the silky grace of a dancer and the deadly stealth of an assassin, gun held poised in both hands.

The side door of the aircraft had burst open on impact and DEEPIKA cautiously pressed her shoulder to its frame, peeking into the interior with one eye. She saw no one but her sharp ears picked up a faint sound. A murmuring voice deep within the plane’s interior. Cautiously, each step a painstaking exercise in silence, she entered the battered hulk and approached. It was coming from the cockpit, cut off from her by a thin steel door hanging on its hinges. She poised herself, levelled her gun, and, with an exultant flash of white teeth at the excitement of it all, crashed the door open with one powerful blow of her booted foot.

‘Hi there! This is your singing telegra... uh oh.’

She found herself staring at three empty seats, vacated well before the crash by the pilots, and a murmuring walkie-talkie lying on the floor.

‘You’re going to want to put your hands up just about as high as you can get them.’

The voice came from behind her and DEEPIKA winced as if she had been struck between the shoulderblades. With the utmost reluctance she stretched her hands up high and turned to face her antagonist.


The grinning man facing her was six feet tall, sandy-haired, all sun-tanned freckles, gleaming white teeth and sinewy muscle. His amiable blue eyes didn’t distract her from the heavy revolver gripped firmly in his fist.

‘You can lose the gun, honey.’

She did as she was told, letting the weapon slip from her fingers to clang to the steel floor at her feet. Hands held high, she watched her antagonist like a hawk, every nerve and muscle poised at the ready.

‘Matt Ryan. Small world.’

‘Surprised to see me, huh?’ grinned the man.

‘Yes, I didn’t realise the CIA ever left the office any more. Don’t you mostly just sit home and watch the satellite pictures on TV?’

His unwavering grin took on a spikier edge.

‘Yeah, well I’m just surprised MI6 sprang for your plane ticket over here. The Queen find some loose change down the back of the couch?’

She narrowed her eyes a fraction but shrugged it off.

‘Ok, well fun as this is, my people picked up transmissions from the Berzerkistani military when I was on my way over. They’ll be here any minute. You have the Sphinx?’

With a flourish he produced from his pocket something that looked at first glance like a silver cigarette case. A compact little slab of circuitry packed between flat metal plates.

‘Kinda disappointing to look at, isn’t it?’

‘Cool. Then we should be on the move.’

Matt chuckled and raised the muzzle of his gun an inch.

‘You know what I love about having people at gunpoint? Suddenly they’re all your best friends. Where did this “we” come from?’

Her hands held high, DEEPIKA widened her eyes to give him her hurt look.

‘We’re supposed to be allies, you know.’

‘Yeah, well, maybe my people will let your people have a look at this little thing after I get it home. But my job is to get the Sphinx back to the States and that’s what I’m going to do. Sorry, DEEPIKA, but that means putting you out of action for a while.’

He eyed her thoughtfully, shifting his grip on the gun.

‘Y’know, if we weren’t allies and you weren’t so cute I’d just pop you in the leg. As it is, I guess I better tie you up.’

DEEPIKA lifted an eyebrow, her mouth curling up at one corner.

‘All those tedious intelligence-sharing conferences at all those swanky hotels and you have to pick a time like this to suggest it?’

Matt shook his head with a grin.

‘You’re something else, you know that? Ok, let’s do this. Get that jacket off.’


Jolted out of her teasing mood, DEEPIKA let the word slip sharply.

‘Come on. Only you and your gynaecologist know how many concealed weapons you’re carrying. I want an hour’s head start on you and that means I want you down to your scanties.’

DEEPIKA grimaced, but the dark hole of the gun’s muzzle was upon her and with poor grace she unzipped her jacket, pulling it down over her shoulders to unveil the simple olive-green vest which was all she wore underneath. Matt’s eyes lingered for a moment on her nipples pressing through the flimsy cotton of the garment before getting back to business.

‘Ok, now the boots. And your socks.’

Sullenly she obeyed, kneeling to unlace her boots and pull them off, conscious all the while of his avid inspection of her perky little tits when she leaned forward. She stripped off her socks and stood back up to face him barefoot.

‘Happy, you pervert?’

He shook his head, taking a moment to swallow before speaking quickly.

‘Not even close. Pants down, go on.’

She scowled, her fingers running reluctantly over her sturdy canvas belt, but for all his obvious enjoyment Matt wasn’t forgetting his job. The gun never wavered from her and she wasn’t fool enough to think he wouldn’t give her a bullet in the leg if she left him no option. Moving stiffly, she tugged at her belt buckle to loosen it and let the waistband of her pants slip down over the curve of her hips. The toned flesh of her thighs gleamed copper in the half light of the plane as they dropped heavily to her ankles. DEEPIKA held up her hands under the point of the gun and stood there almost nude, but for the skimpy vest and her plain olive panties. Matt licked his lips quickly and she found herself lost for a snappy retort.

‘Ok, that’s more like it,’ he said slowly. ‘I feel a lot safer. Now get over here.’

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He flung a bundle of rope in her face as she walked past him into the centre of the plane’s cavernous interior.

‘Tie that round your ankles.’

Grimly she obeyed, seating her thinly clad behind on cold metal to knot a loop into the cord and place her feet through it. Without hesitation Matt grabbed the other end, tossed it over a steel ceiling brace and hauled upwards. Helpless to resist, DEEPIKA found her legs pulled up above her head, her bottom displayed temptingly as she was bent double, the material of her panties riding up between her buttocks. With a second powerful heave on the rope he dragged her shoulders along the grimy hull and lifted her clean off the floor, leaving her swaying and spinning by her ankles in mid-air. Matt secured the rope and folded his arms to inspect her dangling form with a smile.


Through tightened lips she mustered a reply.

‘Do I look it?’

He smirked derisively.

‘Aww, don’t tell me your famous sense of humour’s let you down? Well, sorry sweetheart, but I’m not done with you yet.’

He set his gun down on the floor and approached, a thin length of rope snapped tight between his fists. Deftly he knotted one end about her right wrist, then twisted both her arms behind her to bind them together, immobilising her hands and rendering her perfectly helpless. He stepped back to admire his handiwork.

‘Ok. You’re a clever girl but I don’t think you’re going to be getting out of that for a little while. Nice running into you, DEEPIKA. I’d stick around but I have this little Sphinx gizmo to deliver to its new owners. Try and have fun without me.’

DEEPIKA’s suspended body revolved slowly, her vest slipping down over her belly to unveil her flat smooth midriff, the material of her panties stretched over her squirming hips, her gleaming hair dangling down to brush the dust-covered floor of the wrecked plane.

‘See you real soon, Matt,’ she growled.

He chuckled and patted her mockingly on her barely-clad behind.

‘Now, don’t sulk, honey. I’ll stand you a drink next time you’re in New York. Bye now.’

He was gone, clambering out of the plane to find and revive the local guide DEEPIKA had left sprawled in the stubble. Immediately she was left alone she started to twist and struggle, bending at the waist and knees to try and bring her wrists up to the level of the rope which secured her ankles, forcing her fingernails up to pick at the knot she herself had tied. Pulled tight by her own weight, the knot was a lot sturdier than she’d planned, but millimeter by millimeter, perspiration trickling down her body and dripping to the floor, she started to pull it free. All of a sudden she froze at the sound of a vehicle drawing to a halt a matter of yards away.

How long had she been stuck here? Ten minutes, she guessed. Plenty of time for Matt to get his head start. Plenty of time for someone else to show up looking for the prize which was already gone and to find nothing but her securely trussed, half-naked body as consolation. With gathering desperation she wriggled and grabbed at the knots at her ankles, tugging and tugging with panicking, clumsy fingers. Far too late. With a crash of heavy boots on the metal floor someone was coming tramping towards her. DEEPIKA twisted to get a look and saw four bulky, unshaven, sweating men in military fatigues climbing into the plane with rifles in their hands and sullen scowls on their faces. Their eyes fell on her, their mouths dropped open, and their expressions were transformed in an instant from weary disinterest in their task to salivating lust at the neatly packaged vision dangling like bait before them.

Berzerkistani militia. The scum of the earth. Thugs and bullies gathered by the dictator to enforce his will. For an instant they stared at her in frozen disbelief, but when DEEPIKA made one last frantic attempt to twist free of her bonds the movement jolted them into action. A whoop of lascivious joy went up and they surged forward around her, their grimy hands clapping onto her body, squeezing her thighs, grabbing her breasts, slapping her buttocks, whirling her around and laughing as she span helplessly for their entertainment.

A razor-sharp knife sliced through the rope which held her up and she barely managed to twist and take the impact of her fall on her shoulder. She had no chance to catch her breath before they were all over, hauling her to her feet, dragging her towards the exit and out onto the open plain beyond. A thick-fingered hand caught at the neck of her flimsy top and tugged eagerly, tearing the thin material almost to her navel and leaving her breasts on the verge of spilling free before their greedy eyes.

She was cast onto her knees, hands still bound behind her, and looked quickly from side to side, kicking free the rope which was still tangled about her ankles. The soldiers surrounded her, broad grins on their ugly faces, tugging at their belt buckles, nothing in their minds but using and possessing her. She saw their truck parked by the plane, but no one else. Her mouth tugged up sharply at the corner.

‘Just the four of you, is it? Cool.’

The first of the thugs didn’t even have a chance to stop grinning. Her surging explosion of movement was so fast and unexpected that her heel crunched into his face before he’d registered that she was no longer kneeling at his feet. She didn’t pause for an instant; he’d not yet hit the ground when with catlike speed and an acrobatic flourish she whirled herself up in the air to give a second man the same treatment. The odds had halved before her attackers could move a muscle. The remaining two lunged forward clumsily, hands outstretched for her and eyes wide with shock, and she slipped away like a dancer, letting them blunder into each other and get their limbs tangled together. They were sitting targets as the sole of her right foot crashed into the skull of one and her left swept up under the chin of the other.

Less than five seconds had passed since DEEPIKA had knelt at their feet, a vulnerable captive. She stood over their crumpled, unmoving bodies with an air of huge satisfaction.

‘Well, that was fun. I’d love to stick around and party with you gentlemen but as soon as I get dressed there’s a guy I know whose ass is in serious need of kicking. You don’t mind if I borrow your truck, right?’

* * * * *

The Berzerkistani government didn’t exactly have state-of-the-art military vehicles at its disposal and the aged Russian-built truck crashed and jolted its way across the plain with bone-jarring force, whatever suspension it had once possessed having long since given up the ghost. DEEPIKA drove it hard, her eyes intent on the clearly visible tracks of Matt’s jeep cutting a straight path towards the dagger-like rocky hills up ahead. A gorge through the cliffs had been used by enough travellers over the years that it had been flattened underfoot to something resembling a road and she pressed down on the accelerator. Her first and only clue that something was amiss was the split second flash of sunlight off metal in the rocks ahead.

Long-honed instincts snapping into action, DEEPIKA stamped down on the brake, ducking low behind the wheel as the first bullet smacked into the windscreen, spreading a cobweb of silver cracks over the glass. The truck slewed to a halt in a cloud of dust, tyres squealing, and she kicked open the far door to dive gun in hand for the security of a clutch of boulders. Two more shots cracked out from her attacker’s hiding place, the first punching a hole in the door she had just come through, the second striking the rock inches above her head and spinning away with a whine. Then the firing ended as suddenly as it had begun. DEEPIKA pressed her back to the comforting wedge of stone and listened closely to the silence.

‘Matt?’ she called out after a few seconds. ‘Is that you? What are you playing at, I thought I was too sexy to shoot!’

There was a pause, the only sound that of the wind whirling through the confines of the gorge. Then a voice shouted back:

‘Who is that?’

DEEPIKA pursed her lips thoughtfully, because she realised that she knew this voice. The calm note of self-confident authority, the precision with which the words were selected and the strong Russian accent in which they were spoken. She raised her voice.


There was only a moment’s hesitation before the voice came back.


Cautiously she leaned around the side of her rock, gun held ready but not levelled, and saw him doing exactly the same thing from twenty yards away along the gorge. Moving like mirror images, they both straightened, weapons held up in a gesture of truce. Each of them eyed the other like chess players plotting the next move, until DEEPIKA spoke up.

‘So what’s the KGB doing in this neck of the woods as if I couldn’t guess?’ she called.

‘It’s FSB now,’ the Russian replied with stolid pedantry.

‘I’ve got to tell you, KGB had a much better ring to it. Sounded tough.’

He didn’t riposte. He was a tall, powerfully-built, dark-haired man, his clean-cut features classically handsome but set in a constant mask of humourless concentration. He inspected the woman facing him with an air of scientific appraisal.

‘You have the Sphinx, MISS PADUKONE?’

She shook her head.

‘You’ve been reckoning to wait here and ambush whoever got their hands on it? You’re too late. Matt Ryan has it and he’s been through here already.’

The tightening of Vitaliev’s lips at the news were the first sign of emotion he had displayed.

‘So why tell me? You are allies, are you not?’

‘That’s the rumour. But different people seem to have different ideas about what that means.’

DEEPIKA hesitated, the dangers of what she was about to propose looming over her thinking like a stormcloud, but conscious that every second they delayed Matt was getting further and further away - heading for a cold beer in the CIA bar and a good laugh with the boys about what he’d done to her.

‘Listen,’ she said, taking the plunge before she could think herself out of it, ‘Ryan’s good, and he has a local guide with him. He’d be tough for either one of us to bring down. Besides which, we could die of old age sneaking around these rocks trying to shoot each other in the back. What do you say we track him down together?’

The stony immobility of Vitaliev’s features showed how hard he was thinking.

‘And why would I trust you?’

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