Training Days

This is the start of a story suggested by RPGamer.  I hope it is something

like what they had in mind.  If not please let me know,

Cheers, Steve

Taylor Haddon sprung out of her chair the minute the door to the boardroom opened,so much so she wobbled on her heels, a mistake so hoped went unnoticed.  She watched the three of them stream in, all different yet sharing the same purpose.  The older woman, slim with blonde shoulder length hair with a tease of curl and style tied into a casual bun, perfect make up.  A white dress that showed off her figure and cut perfectly for her legs just as the knee that perfectly but not showingly, led the eye to her small firm behind and her toned legs that Taylor noted were bare, all finished off perfectly with open toed shoes and the perfect heel.

Following her was a woman who Taylor did not know, but who she couldn't take her eyes off.  Not as old as the first.  She was a fuller figure, mesmerisingly so.  Unlike the woman before her there was nothing subtle about her.  This was raw feminine sexual power on display by a woman who knew every card to play.  From the perfect pearl accessories and make up to lips and lipstick that screamed to be kissed, to the manicured nails just that was a vision.  But, it was the clothes, the green silk halter blouse with the daring front to the tight skirt cut above the knee that more than showed what Taylor thought and she was sure others did, was the best set of legs she had ever seen all finished off white classic white pumps.

The final woman made Taylor the most nervous.  She carried herself differently from the others and there was an aura to her outside of her looks and style.  Taylor had of course met her a few times, once at her first orientation, then at an assessment with a few of her instructors.  Always pleasant and encouraging she nonetheless made Taylor and other first years nervous.

‘They do this all the time,’ the woman said, putting down her clutch on the table then walking over to Taylor.  ‘How are you Taylor?’ she smiled warmly, then embraced her adding a faux kiss which was her habit with all agents.

‘Excellent Miss Baxter,’ Taylor said with a very slight nervous tremor in her voice that she knew would not go unnoticed, especially by the Head of FORCE.

‘No need to be nervous,’ Claire smiled warmly, calming Taylor.  ‘This is Tina Samuels, Head of Business Ops and the one who came up with this contest,’ Claire said, indicating the older stunning blonde woman.  They shook hands.  ‘And this is my mentor, Sharon Sharpe.’

This was a name Taylor knew, she’d read mission reports, sexy erotic tales and endless impossible escapades, the nervousness instantly returned as Sharon offered her hand.

‘See it's not just me!’ Claire smiled, reading Taylor’s face.  ‘Believe me if you knew some of Tina’s tales you’d be a puddle on the floor by now,’ she added with a laugh walking back to her seat at the table.

‘Now I read your report on how you won the contest,’ Claire said while she held up Taylor’s report in one hand looking at her then tossed it away across the table to no one.  ‘That tells me nothing about the agent we’re training, I want to hear it directly from you, in your words, not some polished document you spent hours fixing so it sounds just right.  So, and I know this is a big ask, but relax, tell your story, there’s no judgement here.’

***

‘Can you believe this!’ Jennifer Walsh, a stunning light brunette said as she typed away on her laptop in the class as the contest was explained.  Taylor noticed a lot of the other first year girls in her class were really as excited as Jenn was.

‘Crap, what the hell!’ filled her ears as she glanced at Jen’s fingers trying everything with the keys on her computer.  ‘What a time to freeze up,’ she added as Taylor casually passed her a pen and notepad from her supply then slid the laptop to her to work on it.

‘Take good notes, I can copy them later while I get this thing back up,’ Taylor said calmly.

Taylor worked away while Jen took notes until finally just as the class ended she had the computer back up and running.

‘What did I tell you before and the time before that about running too many things in the background and fooling around with file extensions?’ Taylor said, sliding the laptop back.  Did you bring your autotron for copying?

‘You know the answer to that,’Jen smiled.

‘Never mind.  Chelsea, can I use your autotron to make a copy of Jen’s notes?  I was busy fixing her laptop again,’ Taylor said, calling out to another trainee who motioned to the door to meet her at the copy centre in the library.

‘No that you won’t make it here, but in the unlikely event that ever happens you do have a career as a computer tech in the bag,’ Chelsea said as they walked into the copy centre, handing her thumb drive to Taylor so she could activate the machine.  ‘I read several old mission and history reports last night,’ Taylor mentioned as the machine activated.  I finally figured out how to search the database better.  One was Claire’s first training mission with, no, I’m not going to tell you.’

‘I’m letting you use my stick, a clear violation of the rules, so spill,’ Chelsea mocked.

‘Blackmail, excellent,’ Taylor smiled, then added.  ‘Sharon Sharpe.  You have to read this along with the others I found, they're insane.’

‘The database search is crap, everyone knows that.  Even the third years don’t bother anymore.

‘None of them have a Masters in Computational and Data Science,’ Taylor smiled.  ‘I created an overlaid AI search engine and yes it's untraceable,’ Taylor smiled as she picked her papers off the tray and handed back the autotron.  ‘Thanks, I owe you.’

‘What do you think of this contest, personally I can’t wait to use what I’ve been taught on these first year male agents,’ Chelsea smiled with a hungry look on her face.

‘You do understand they’ve been taught to counter those talents,’ Taylor retorted with a questioning look on her face.

‘Come on girl!  I don’t care how much training they got.  Once they see a female in a sexy dress, a cross of her legs, a touch of her hand, they start thinking with the wrong head and from there it's just feminine wiles.  You need to pay more attention in class.  All a woman has to do is find the key to unlock him,’ she mused.

‘Maybe I can help you with that?’ Taylor offered, snapping Chelsea out of her pleasant daydream of seduction.

‘Why would you do that, you're in this contest as well you know.’

‘There's levels of competition and this contest is going to levels I can’t compete on.  Do you really think you’re the only one thinking the way you just were.  Jen’s already back at her room looking at outfits.  This is something FORCE is using to slot us into future roles.  I know where I want to be, an agent, but I’m not deluded enough to think I can compete with certain other trainees who for the sake of modesty I will refrain from mentioning in their presence.’

Chelsea smiled at the compliment.  ‘Don’t sell yourself short,’ she said.

‘Not about to, never any complaints from the males I’ve had relationships with, but here is another matter.  But that doesn’t mean I can’t help a friend.  Part of this world in knowing who you can trust and you remember Miss Baxter’s words to us.  We train you, but you build your relationships here, they will come in useful,’ Taylor explained.

‘I will drop by later with the program.  I would suggest using keyword searches like seduction methods, clothes, posture, things like that to mine the data of all those missions and papers.  After all, we’re not inventing anything new, just applying what’s already worked.  I’ve got to go and give these back to Jen, see you later.’

***

‘I told Chelsea you’d be doing this,’ Taylor laughed as she entered Jen’s dorm room after acknowledgement.

‘What of it?  We’re always told to look our best, a little extra effort could pay huge dividends and I don’t just mean finding the right man with the correct counter sign for your sign.  This is clearly one of those contests where I wouldn’t mind being wrong a few times, if you understand me,’ Jen smiled.

‘Here’s your notes back.  Thanks for taking them, very detailed.’

Thanks again for the computer,’ Jen said as Taylor walked the notes over to her desk,  a secret smile forming on her face then disappearing as she turned about.

‘Which one? Jen asked, holding up to choices.

‘Remember what Gina Perini told us, built from the shoes out.  Those peach pumps, you always pop in those, they’ll stand out over the others,’ Taylor smiled.  ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

***

‘This takes me back to 6th or 7th grade after school dances, girls on one side of the gym, boys on the other,’ Taylor said out the side of her mouth to Marcella Supella or Marcie as she called her.  

‘That was never really a problem for me,’ Marcie answered.

‘Stop that talk, that was before.  That one three from the end right, don’t look, he’s been eyeing you.  Seems he likes what he sees and when he watches you in action, he’ll like you even more.  Just if you are paired with against, don’t hurt him too much, it could inhibit his performance if you follow,’ Taylor added.

‘Some of those guys look pretty big, not to mention strong.  I don’t think hurting them is top of mind right now,’ Marcie said as she caught the guy Taylor mentioned out of the corner of her eye like she’d been taught, without him knowing it.

‘You're not going to overpower whoever at first, like you usually do against us.  A Plus only goes so far, but a woman goes farther.  Remember your training, use suppleness and sexy in your fighting style.  Besides half those guys already have erections under those baggy shorts. Once you get closer they’ll stop thinking with one head and use the other, that’s when you strike.  Just watch and learn from certain successes and failures from both sides.’

The duo watched the action unfold.  The women did well, held their own and then some.  It was very clear from this first encounter then fighting styles varied greatly.  The women had been taught female centric martial arts, blending yoga, erotic motions and sinuous flexibility  that masked deadly intent whereas the men had been taught more straight forward styles.  

Finally Taylor’s name was called as was her male opponent, Haddon, a sandy blonde, a slim but well toned individual who had about 4 inches of height on her.  ‘I could have done worse,’ she mused, coming onto the large mat.

After the perfunctory bow he as she expected came straight at her.

‘Apparently he wasn’t watching the others before us,’ she thought, taking a few small steps back as he advanced.  Taylor let her knees weaken falling away onto her back just as he lunged.  A shapely leg came up, a foot nicely placed into his hard stomach and over he went landing hard on his back, she coming over the top landing on his stomach straddling him.  ‘This is the point where you’d die Trainee Haddon,’ I said, with a motion of my straight stiff hand stopping just as his Adam’s Apple.  ‘But not today,’ I smile.  ‘Besides, there are many pleasanter ways to expire,’ she added, then spun about wrapping her slim sexy legs around his neck.  Taylor let them slip a little allowing him to feel their paradoxical softness firm and soft touches, then a gentle squeeze before she leaned over top, her face inverted to his and gave him a soft  kiss.  ‘Perhaps tomorrow, if you’re up to it,’smiled looking down his torso then back at him.  She released him, spun about gracefully coming to her feet and walked back toward the female trainees who were all smiles and high fives.

‘He’s still in play,’she said to Marcie.

They had to wait several more pairings before Marcie was called.

‘Wishes do come true,’Taylor smiled.  ‘Now make him want you more than he does already.  Remember thinking with the wrong head.  Steady, let him go out there first, besides you need to do your hair up.  Gives him less to grab and makes you look even more dynamite.’

Taylor did up Marcella’s hair, slowly.  ‘He’s loving this look, that bulge is if possible getting bigger and his breathing is increasing.  Get yourselves in a clinch, let him feel your firm curvy form, it's a weapon, then when he’s at that moment, in between thoughts on whether to fight or plunge inside you, do what you do best,’ she whispered in Marcie’s ear as she finished tying the hair bobbles in place.

For some reason all males, be they experienced agents or in this case trainees, make the same assumption about Plus agents, that they are slow and rely completely on power to succeed.  The trainee agent Marcie faced, Aaron was no different, even after he hit the floor several times, one from a shoulder toss and the second from having his legs swept out.  

‘Size and speed,’ she smiled at him.  ‘But some things I prefer to take at a slower pace, she whispered into his ear after her legs had entangled his legs in hers.  She then twisted them slightly, fell over, cupped his chin in the crook of her locked arms and bent hims as they lay on the mat, she in complete control.  ‘I find you yummy as well, my Harlequin,’ she added then released.

***

Taylor wasn’t sure you got the most out of the two groups' first meetings.  Clearly some sparring sessions produced sparks, some positive others not.  Ego’s being brought back to earth, confidences getting a reality check and here and there genuine connections.  She was sure the class work, role play scenarios would further complicate matters in terms of the contest, but just personal interactions, whatever role those took on would be the real catalysts to seeing who won this contest and how they achieved it. 

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Debra Paget - Snake Dance

 

Thanks for all the Ideas

 Thanks for all the feedback.  All the ideas were great!

I will be working on them to turn your ideas into

stories, hopefully with pictures as well. 

Always open to more ideas so please keep them coming.

Cheers.  Steve

The Poison Bikini's Embrace

The Bali night was a living tapestry of sound—the rhythmic crash of waves on dark sand, the chirping chorus of geckos in the lush frangipani trees, the distant thrum of a club’s bass line from the Seminyak shore. The air hung thick and sweet, carrying the scent of night-blooming jasmine and salt. In a secluded, open-air bale perched on a cliff edge, two figures were locked in a silent, intimate war.

FORCE Agent Jax was a monument of coiled strength rendered helpless. His naked body, all carved muscle and sun-bronzed skin, glistened with a fine sheen of sweat under the moonlight. He was caught in a seemingly casual embrace, his back to Thet Win’s front, her impossibly long legs crossed loosely over his thighs, her arms draped around his torso in a hold that looked more like a lover’s cuddle than a restraint.

It was the Kissing Salamander’s Loose Coil, a variant. And it was maddening.

“Hard to imagine two little pieces of cloth causing you so much trouble,” Thet Win laughed, her voice a melodic, teasing whisper against the shell of his ear. Her tone was light, amused, the voice of a beautiful woman sharing a private joke. Jax growled, a raw sound of frustration deep in his chest. He surged against her, his biceps bulging as he tried to straighten his arms, to break the gentle circle of her limbs. The movement was powerful, explosive. It did nothing. Her hold didn’t tighten; it simply yielded, absorbing his force like water around a stone, before settling back into place. The effort only succeeded in rubbing his shoulder, his arm, against the side of her body. Against the neon-pink, scrap-of-fabric bikini she wore. “Every time you brush against my bikini,” she explained, her lips brushing his ear, “it deposits a trace amount of a muscle relaxant into you.” She sounded genuinely gleeful, a scientist delighted by a perfect experiment. “A transdermal cocktail. Activated by friction. By heat.” Jax froze for a second, processing. Then, with a roar of defiance, he snapped his body in the other direction, twisting his torso violently to the left. His muscles corded, a beautiful display of raw power. His shoulder ground against the slick, toxic fabric of her bikini top. Her body moved with him, supple as a sapling in the wind, her hold never breaking. “That’s it,” she cooed, her breath hot on his neck. “Snap. Twist. Surge. I want you to. I love it.” Her arousal was a palpable thing, a thrilling, electric current in her own slender frame. To hold this formidable, trained agent—this powerful, dangerous man—so completely helpless with nothing but her lithe form and a bit of poisoned silk… it was an intoxicating power. It was feminine power, refined to a lethal edge. Her heart hammered against his back, not from exertion, but from a deep, primal thrill. This was her art. Not just the knot, but the slow, inevitable seduction of his own strength into her trap. He struggled like a fish on a line for hours. The moon arced across the sky. The club music faded. The geckos fell silent. Jax’s struggles began to change. The powerful, explosive surges became slower, more deliberate pushes. The angry growls became ragged breaths. Thet held him through it all, a patient, graceful predator. She would occasionally shift, adjusting her grip with tiny, infuriatingly precise movements, ensuring a new patch of his skin made fresh contact with the drug-laced fabric. She could feel the change in him. The rock-hard tension in his shoulders began to soften, to become malleable. The defiant rigidity of his spine started to bow, ever so slightly, into the curve of her body. He was melting. Not just physically, but in spirit. The drug was a subtle thief, stealing not just his muscle tone, but his will to fight the exquisite, gentle prison of her limbs. Finally, as the first hint of pearl-grey light touched the eastern horizon, his last vestige of resistance faded. A long, slow sigh escaped him, and his head lolled back against her shoulder, his body heavy and pliant in her arms. “There,” Thet whispered, nuzzling his damp hair. “All fought out. Just as I planned.” With a fluid, graceful motion, she uncrossed her legs and unwound her arms. Jax slumped forward, his body trembling with residual weakness. He lay on the woven bamboo floor breathing heavily. Thet stood before him. She placed a finger under his chin, lifting his face. His eyes, once sharp and wary, were clouded, dilated. A handsome face, now slack with chemical submission. She smiled, a radiant, victorious smile. “I work better in the nude,” she announced, her voice matter-of-fact. Her hands went to the knot of her bikini top at her back. With a single, practised tug, the neon pink fabric loosened and fell away. She shrugged it off, letting it drop to the floor with a soft whisper. Her breasts were small, high, perfect, the nipples taut in the cool dawn air. Her hands then hooked into the sides of the bikini bottoms. She rolled them down over the gentle swell of her hips, down the endless, toned length of her thighs, stepping out of them with the elegant precision of a dancer. She was nude. In the pale dawn light, her body was a marvel. Ageless. Honey-gold skin that seemed to glow from within. A flat stomach leading to a gentle, feminine curve. Legs that went on forever, sleek with muscle yet utterly graceful. She was a living sculpture of predatory beauty, utterly confident, utterly in control. She walked to a low teak table and picked up a small, celadon ceramic jar. Unscrewing the lid, she dipped a puff into a fine, iridescent white powder. “A special powder of mine,” she said, beginning to dust it over her own skin. She started at her collarbones, smoothing it down over her breasts, her stomach. The powder clung, giving her skin a soft, pearlescent sheen. “And for you.” She knelt before Jax again. He watched, mesmerized, as she applied the powder to his chest, his arms, his back. Her touch was clinical, yet impossibly sensual. The powder was cool, fragrant with a hint of lotus. She coated him thoroughly, turning his sweat-slicked, muscular form into a dusty, shimmering statue. “When our bodies merge,” she explained, her fingers tracing the lines of his abs, “our combined heat and my motion will cause the micro-shards in the powder to penetrate your skin. They deliver an embedded truth serum. Quite elegant, don’t you think?” She leaned close, her lips a hair’s breadth from his. “And I think you’ll enjoy my choice of knot. The Cambodian Mating Centipede. It’s rather… pleasurable. And that’s the point.” Her eyes gleamed. “In your dazed, orgasmic euphoria, coupled with the truth serum… you will talk.” Jax just stared, his mind swimming in a fog of relaxant and awe. Thet’s gaze dipped lower. She reached out, her fingers closing not around a weapon, but around his soft, limp member. Her touch was feather-light. She guided it towards her mouth, her eyes locked on his. “Watch,” she murmured, just before her lips parted. The moment her warm, wet mouth enveloped him, he gasped as if electrocuted. A shockwave of sensation tore through his drugged lethargy. He swelled instantly, powerfully, inside the soft, tight heaven of her embrace. A strangled moan ripped from his throat. “There we are,” Thet hummed, the vibration traveling straight through him. And he began to thrash. Not with the purposeful struggle of before, but with the instinctive, helpless jerking of pure sensory overload. His hips bucked. His back arched. His hands scrabbled on the bamboo. Thet smiled around him, her eyes crinkling with delight. Just as she wanted. His actions, his wild, uncoordinated movements, were perfect. Her own body began to move in response, not fighting him, but flowing with him. As he bucked, she shifted her weight. As he twisted, she turned. Her limbs, coated in the iridescent powder, began to weave around his moving form. A leg hooked over his thigh. An arm snaked around his heaving chest. It was a dance, a slow, sensual entanglement where his pleasure was the choreographer and her exquisite body was the willing, trapping partner. The Cambodian Mating Centipede was not tied; it was woven through motion. Through ecstasy. His first orgasm built with terrifying speed. Thet felt it in the desperate pulse of him against her tongue, in the way his whole body stiffened like a bowstring. She increased her rhythm, her lips and tongue working with devastating skill, coaxing, demanding. When it broke, it was a silent, full-body convulsion for Jax. A shudder so violent it seemed it might break his bones. A hot, salty pulse flooded her mouth. She swallowed, savoring the taste, the victory of it. He collapsed forward with a broken sob, but her newly-formed knot held him up, his body now partially entwined with hers. She didn’t stop. Not for a second. As he trembled in the aftershocks, hypersensitive and raw, her mouth continued its gentle, insistent suction. The truth serum micro-shards, activated by their combined heat and the friction of their powdered skin, began their work. A pleasant, woozy openness seeped into his mind. “Who is your liaison in the Singapore embassy?” Thet asked, her voice slightly muffled. “D-David Chen,” Jax gasped, the words tumbling out unbidden, mingled with a moan. “Good,” she purred, and redoubled her efforts. The second climax took longer, but was deeper, more wrenching. He cried out, a raw, animal sound, as another wave tore through him. Thet’s own body was a sleek, coiled engine of seduction. Her powder-dusted skin was now slick with a fine perspiration, making her honey-coloured form gleam under the dawn light. She moved around and against him, her taut stomach muscles flexing, her slender back arching, her small, perfect breasts brushing against his arm, his side. She was a vision of sensual industry, her every movement designed to stimulate, to entangle, to dominate. Hour after hour, the dance continued. The sun rose fully, painting the bale in warm gold. Thet’s knot slowly, inexorably, consumed more of him. His legs were fully woven with hers now, his arms bound loosely but inescapably by her own. She was a living, breathing net, and he was the catch, being drawn steadily into her center. The third orgasm was a sobbing, continuous release that seemed to go on for minutes. The fourth was sharper, a bright stab of pleasure that made him scream. With each peak, Thet asked her questions, her voice a soft, relentless soundtrack to his ruin. “The security schedule for the data vault?” “Rotates… every Thursday… midnight reset…” “The override code from the regional director?” “Falcon… Nest… Seven…” She savored each answer like fine wine, each salty, helpless climax a testament to her skill. Her body thrummed with a deep, satisfied arousal. This was control. This was art. By the fifth hour, he was tight in the final configuration of the Mating Centipede. A complex, intimate tangle of limbs, her mouth still working on him, his body fully encased in the silken prison of hers. His responses were slurred, his eyes rolled back in his head. The fifth orgasm was less a peak and more a prolonged, shuddering descent, a constant low-grade release that had him mewling helplessly. Her work was nearly complete. She had the access protocols, the fail-safes, the extraction points. “One more, sweetheart,” Thet whispered, looking up the line of their entangled bodies to meet his glazed eyes. “For me.” She pushed him, ruthlessly, expertly, towards a final, devastating peak. His body, spent beyond belief, tried to resist. A final spark of defiance. He writhed in the knot, a feeble, pathetic motion. He thrust weakly into the wet warmth of her mouth, a last, desperate attempt to do something, to own even this moment of his defeat. Thet felt the climax tear through him. It was dry, agonizing, a body trying to convulse with nothing left to give. As he writhed, as he made those final, helpless thrusts, she stiffened. Her whole body, from her toes to the crown of her head, went taut as a wire. She arched her back, a subtle, powerful curve, and then gave a sharp, precise snap of her hips and small, firm buttocks against his. A neural overload trigger. The Stretching Spider’s Paralysis. The effect was instantaneous. Jax froze mid-spasm, his body locking into place, eyes wide and unseeing. All voluntary muscle control vanished. Thet held the pose for a three-count, then released. She unwound herself from him with casual, fluid grace, her limbs slipping free of the knot as if it were mere silk. She left him there, lying on the floor, paralyzed, his body still shuddering with internal tremors, his chest heaving. She stood over him for a moment, a nude, golden goddess surveying her work. Then she turned and walked to the outdoor shower stall in the corner of the bale. The cool water sluiced over her, washing away the powder, his taste, the sweat of her labors. She dried herself with a rough linen towel, then dusted her clean skin with a light, floral talc. She stepped back into the neon pink bikini, the toxic fabric now just a costume. Finally, she walked back to where Jax lay. She knelt beside him, her shadow falling over his frozen face. She leaned down and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his slack lips. “My yoga,” she cooed, her voice the epitome of victorious sweetness, “another lethal weapon in my arsenal, has paralysed you for several hours. Long enough for me to leave, and for a Trident clean-up team to pick you up, baby.” She brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. “Thank you for the delicious time.’

I can't and don't want to do this alone

 Once again if anyone has ideas fir a story,

long or short.  A peril idea,a pic you have 

for  caption you'd like to see all you have

to do is ask and I'll see what I can come up

with.  You can ask here or if you prefer email

me at:

barrie125ca@yahoo.ca

I can't be the only one with all the ideas,

that's just boring.  So please don't be shy or

concerned your idea is weird or silly.  If you

read enough of my stuff you know that's not

possible.  All I ask is that you keep it within

the general theme of this site.  Hope to hear 

from a bunch of you soon and turn your ideas

into creations.

Cheers,  Steve

New Captions