ONE
The music swelled, a lush, orchestral wave that crashed against the glittering
walls of the embassy ballroom. And in the center of it all, they moved as one.
Tina Samuels, a vision in liquid obsidian, let her body follow the lead of the
man whose name she’d stolen along with his sense of security. Agent Lex.
Trident’s best. And currently, she thought with a private thrill, my prey.
His hand was warm and firm on the small of her back, guiding her through the
other dancers with an effortless grace she had to admire. The black sequins of
her gown caught the light, throwing off tiny, dazzling stars with every twist and
turn. She leaned into him, her silver-haired head tilting back just enough to
expose the elegant line of her throat. A calculated offer, which he reagerly
accepted. They left the dance Tina leading him through the hallway,to the
elevator then finally into her suite
'You’re a surprising dancer for a man who spends his days analyzing satellite data,'
she murmured, her refined English accent a silken brushstroke against his ear as
she closed the door to her suite.
He smiled, a handsome, confident thing that she was about to ruin. 'And you’re a
surprising date for a diplomat’s ‘doting aunt’ from Sussex.'
Oh, you have no idea. She let a genuine, throaty laugh bubble up. 'A lady must
have her secrets.'
Her body arched back a sleek graceful curve in his arms as they went about
his neck. His face hovered mere inches from hers, his breath warm with
anticipation for the moment ahead.
She didn’t wait for him, Tina reached up, her fingers sliding into the crisp hair
at the nape of his neck, and pulled him down the final few inches.
The kiss was not tentative. It was a claim. Her lips met his with a practiced
expertise, soft yet insistent, parting his with a subtle pressure that spoke of
years of learned persuasion. He responded instantly, a low groan vibrating
against her mouth as his arms tightened around her, crushing her against the
solid wall of his chest. The scent of his cologne—spice and clean linen—
mingled with her own subtle, floral perfume.
For a long, dizzying moment, there was only the heat, the taste of him, the
intoxicating friction of bodies moving in perfect, hungry sync. She could feel
the hard planes of his torso against her softer curves, the way his heart
hammered a frantic rhythm against her own. Perfect.
Then, with a skill honed over decades, she pulled away. Just a fraction. Just
enough to break the seal of their mouths. Her arms remained locked around
his neck, holding him in her intimate embrace. She placed a few soft, teasing
pecks on his lips, slowing the frantic tempo she herself had set.
A slow, knowing smile curved her perfectly painted lips. 'You’re feeling it,
aren’t you, Trident agent Lex?' Her voice was a husky whisper, a secret
shared secret one knew the answer to and the other was about to discover.
She lightly touched her lips to his again, a ghost of a kiss. 'That… frisson.
The doubt creeping in at the edges of the pleasure.'
His eyes, once clear and focused, were now clouded with a dazed arousal.
His breathing was noticeably shallow. 'Feeling what?' he managed, his voice
rough.
'You never suspected this old lady could be an enemy agent,' she continued,
her lips dancing over his as she spoke, each word a soft caress. The act of
explanation, of revealing her brilliance while he was helpless in her web, was
its own potent aphrodisiac. A thrill shot through her, hot and sharp. 'Now you’re
beginning to suspect. But it’s already far, far too late. While we have time, let
me explain how I did it.'
She nuzzled his jawline, her breath hot against his skin. 'Not my lipstick, this
time. A shame, really. I do so enjoy a poisonous kiss of death every now and
then.' She pressed a soft, lingering kiss just below his ear. 'Nor my nails. Always
filed to a cutting edge and varnished with some pleasing colour containing a
poison or toxin. I’m so very good, you never even would have felt it.' She
punctuated the thought with a delicate bite on his earlobe. 'Maybe my next
mission.'
She felt a slight tremor run through him. ‘Good. The first sign.’
'I’m not wearing a needle ring,' she whispered, taking one of his hands and
guiding it to her bare fingers, interlacing them with his. 'Nor my dangling
poison dart earrings.' She tilted her head, making the simple diamond studs
she wore tonight catch the light. 'Same for my skin. No devious hand creams
against yours as I held your neck. And my perfume, although I find it quite
alluring, is just that. Nothing deadly.'
His grip on her waist was loosening, his weight beginning to sag ever so
slightly against her. The cloud in his eyes was thickening into a fog.
'Time’s nearly up for you,' she murmured, her voice dripping with a faux
sympathy. 'So I’ll explain. It was my legs. Specifically, the thigh-high slit in
this black sequinned gown. That is what drew you in. That is what made you
want to hold me close.'
She pressed her body flush against his one last time, a final, intimate embrace.
'And as you did, as you pressed your poor, susceptible skin against mine… the
quills hidden within the sequins penetrated your suit. Delivering my… deadly
embrace.'
The smile that spread across her face then was one of pure, unadulterated triumph.
She watched the understanding dawn in his fading eyes a second before his
muscles gave out completely.
She stepped back, letting his slumping body crumple gracelessly to the polished
floor.
Tina didn’t spare him another glance. She turned, catching her reflection in a dark
window. A slim, silver-haired vixen, not a sequin out of place, not a hair astray.
The faint, smug smile still played on her lips. She retrieved her lipstick case from
her clutch, clicking it open to reveal the vibrant red bullet within. With a steady
hand, she added one more tiny, almost invisible notch to its gold casing.
Another one. Proof, as if she needed it, that a mature woman made the most lethal
spy of all.
TWO
The final, searing press of Tina’s mouth against Marcus’s was a masterclass incontradiction. It was soft, yet absolute. A lover’s promise and an executioner’sseal. She felt the powerful muscles of his back, so tense and defined under hertouch, suddenly turn to unyielding stone. The desperate, searching passion inhis kiss vanished, replaced by the cold, rigid stillness of a statue.
She held him for a moment longer, her lips a hair's breadth from his, feelingthe last shudder of his breath against her skin. Then, with practiced ease, shestepped back, and his body sagged, collapsing into a sitting position againstthe balcony’s stone railing, eyes wide and unblinking, frozen in a mask of
betrayed ecstasy.
'Such a shame,' she murmured, not without a trace of genuine regret. Somuch potential, wasted on the wrong side of the game.
She snapped open her compact, the soft click echoing in the sudden quiet.
The woman in the mirror was flawless. Silver hair swept into an elegantchignon, cheeks slightly flushed from the dance and the kiss, emeraldeyes sparkling with cold victory. Not a hair out of place. She tapped acode into the disguised phone hidden within the powder case, her voicea low, melodic hum. 'The package is wrapped and awaiting retrieval on
the east balcony. Be discreet.'
A fresh swipe of crimson—her signature shade, ‘Scarlet Nightfall’—and she wasready. She turned from the immobilized agent without a second glance, thesequins of her gown whispering secrets as she melted back into the shimmering
throng of the ballroom.
Her exit was a performance in itself. A warm, doting peck on the cheek forher ‘nephew’, the roving diplomat. A few pleasantries about the lateness ofthe hour and an old woman’s need for her beauty sleep. The cover was, asalways, perfect.
The door to her lavish hotel suite clicked shut, sealing her in a world ofplush silence and soft lighting. She leaned against it for a breath, allowingthe persona of the socialite to finally slip away. Only the Siren remained.
'It’s a little late for visitors,' she said, her voice a low, amused purr as sheturned. She didn’t startle. She had sensed him the moment she entered—the slight shift in the air, the presence of another predator in her den.
A man stood opposite her, tall and broad-shouldered, his face obscuredby shadows. The gleam of a suppressed pistol in his hand was unmistakable.
Tina’s smile was cool and effortless. Another one.
The game was truly endless. She held his gaze as her hands went to theclasp at the back of her gown. The sound of the zipper sliding down wasobscenely loud in the quiet room. With a graceful shrug of her shoulders,the heavy sequined dress pooled at her feet, leaving her standing innothing but a whisper-thin silk chemise and a pair of dangerously high heels.
His breath hitched. Just a tiny, almost imperceptible catch, but she heard it.
They always do.
She stepped out of the silken puddle, moving toward him with the hypnotic,swaying gait of a woman who knew the precise effect her body had. At fifty-seven, every curve was a testament to a life exquisitely lived, a weaponmeticulously maintained. She saw his eyes trail down her length, from thesilver cascade of hair over one shoulder to the elegant line of her legs.
She stopped just before him, her arms smoothly lifting to encircle his neck,her body a hair's breadth from his. Let him feel the warmth. She could smellhis cologne, something musky and expensive, undercut with the scent of cold
steel.
Instead of yielding, he tossed a small, white face cloth at her. It landed against her chest
'Wipe it off,' he demanded, his voice a rough gravel. 'The lips first. Then the rest.'
Her smile widened. Oh, a cautious one.
This was fun. 'I can see you’re an excellent agent,' she offered, her refined Englishaccent draping every word in silk. She brought the cloth to her mouth, wiping thecrimson lipstick away with slow, deliberate circles, her eyes locked on his. Shemade a show of it, a languid, sensual performance.
She dropped the cloth and began to sweep it over her skin—along her collarbone,
over the slope of her breasts visible above the chemise, down her stomach. 'I maybe wearing a poisonous lipstick… or a body oil.' With a final, dismissive flick ofher wrist, she tossed the rag away. It was a challenge. A dare.
'I have orders to kill you, old woman,' he grunted, his eyes dark with a conflictshe knew all too well. Desire warring with duty. 'But that doesn’t mean we can’thave fun first,’ he said, unzipping his pants,letting them fall, then lowering hisunderwear, his cock already hard and ready.
'I agree entirely,' Tina breathed, her voice dropping to a husky register thatpromised everything. She reached for him, but he was faster. His powerful handssnapped up, catching her wrists and pinning them above her head against thewall. The move was effortless for him, his strength absolute. Wise move.Her razor-sharp nails were now useless. He’d done his homework.
He used his own body to keep her there, one hand securing both her wrists, theother cupping his petite ass,arching her hips for entry,his gaze burning into hers.The raw, brute force of it was a thrill all its own. She expected nothing less.'I’m here for the taking,' she whispered, tilting her head back, exposing the longline of her throat. 'And I want you.'
His mouth crashed down on hers, a kiss devoid of the artful seduction she’demployed on the balcony. This was hunger, pure and simple. A claiming. Hedrove into her, pressing roughly against her.
He was all hardened muscle and intent, a stark contrast to her sleek, gracefulcurves. He didn’t hesitate. She was pinnied against the wall with the weight ofhis body against hers. He pushed forward, a blunt, insistent pressure, his eyeslocked on hers, waiting for the flinch, the protest.
It never came. Tina’s smile was a siren’s call in the dim light. She met his thrustwith a roll of her hips, a deliberate, welcoming motion.
'That’s it,' she breathed against his mouth, her voice a throaty promise. 'Don’t stop.'
THREE
The raw, untamed energy that had filled the room moments before shatteredlike glass. The weight of him against her vanished as he slumped, his bodygoing rigid, then limp. He slid down the wall, collapsing into an ungainlyheap on the plush hotel carpet, his eyes wide and unseeing.
Tina landed on her feet with the effortless grace of a cat, her own breathcoming in a controlled, steady rhythm. A slow, triumphant smile curvedher lips. She leaned over his paralyzed form, her silver hair cascading like
a curtain around her face.
'You should have checked my second set of lips, darling,' she purred, herrefined English accent cutting through the silence. 'Those are just as lethal
as the first.'
She removed her chemise, a casual display of power. She watched his eyes,the only part of him that could still move, track the gesture. A flicker ofprimal fear shone in their glassy depths. It was intoxicating.
My Paradise Pin. Just a gentle, internal compression of certain muscles.A calculated, blissful caress from the inside that activates a needle hiddenwithin the intricate piercing. One tiny prick. So easy to administer in the
heat of the moment.
'A rather deadly neurotoxin, in this case,' she murmured aloud, her voicesoft, almost a lover’s whisper. She bent down and placed a final, soft kisson his cold lips. 'A shame. You had promise.'
Straightening up, stepped over him as if he were a piece of furniture. Thewarm steam from the ensuite bathroom beckoned, and she spent the nexttwenty minutes under the scorching spray, washing away the scent of him,the feel of his desperate hands. Another mission concluded. Another trophy
for her collection.
She emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a fresh, fluffy white towel, herskin glowing, tendrils of silver hair clinging to her damp neck. The roomwas exactly as she’d left it. The body had been picked up during her bath
only to be replaced by another.
She saw him immediately. A dark shape reflected in the vanity mirror, sittingcalmly in the armchair in the corner of the suite, shrouded in shadow. Anotherman. Another Trident agent. Of course. They were like cockroaches.
A sigh, laced with more annoyance than fear, escaped her lips. She didn’tstartle. She didn’t gasp. She simply met his gaze in the mirror, her expression
one of profound boredom.
'Again?' she said, her voice dripping with disdain. 'Really, don’t your superiors ever
learn?'
She turned her back to him, a deliberate act of dismissal, and walked with unhurriedsteps to her vanity. She picked up her heavy, silver-backed hairbrush, the cool weightof it familiar in her hand. She began to brush her hair with long, smooth strokes,watching him in the mirror’s reflection.
He stood. He was bigger than the last one. Broader. His movement was silent,practiced. She saw the glint of a gun in his hand a second before she felt thecold, circular pressure of its barrel press firmly between her shoulder blades.
Predictable.
'Don’t move,' his voice was a low, gravelly command.
Tina’s brushing never faltered. She continued with the hairbrush even as hespun her about in the chair to face him. Her eyes traveled from the weaponin his hand up to his face—all sharp angles and hardened resolve.
A slow, dangerous smile played on her lips. Another brute. All muscle, no
subtlety.
'Is that any way to greet a lady?' she chided softly, her voice a silken trap as
she stopped brushing her hair.
In one fluid motion, she stepped into his space. Her slender, deceptively strongarms slipped around his neck. She saw the confusion in his eyes, the slight falterin his professional composure. Men. They could never reconcile lethal force with
undeniable allure.
She pulled his head down and kissed him. It wasn’t a kiss of passion, but ofpurpose. A deep, probing, dominating kiss that stole his breath and, for acrucial second, his focus. Her tongue danced with his, a tantalizing
distraction.
‘That was just an expected professional courtesy I suppose,’ she smiled,after breaking the kiss, pulling back just enough to watch the realizationdawn in his wide, horrified eyes. She pulled a tiny, almost invisible
filament from his neck.
'My hairbrush,' she explained, her voice a husky, intimate whisper directlyagainst his mouth. 'This particular tine contains a very potent musclrelaxant. A fascinating concoction. It freezes the body... but it doesnothing to dull the senses. Or,' she added, her gaze drifting down hisbody suggestively, 'certain other reactions.'
She felt the slackness in his limbs, the complete totality of her drug settingin. Yet, against her thigh, she could feel the unmistakable, traitorousevidence of his body’s unwilling arousal. A cruel smile touched her eyes.
'My mouth, as you just felt, is a very effective... muscle hardener.' Herfingers began to trace the line of his jaw, then drifted down his chest.
'And my caress will get me the answers I want. I suspect a leak in ourorganisation.' Her hand traveled lower, her intent clear, her touch lightas a feather yet burning like a brand through his clothes.
'Of course,' she whispered, her lips brushing his earlobe. 'The toxin hasa secondary effect. It's psychoactive. It will drive you slowly, exquisitelyinsane the longer you’re held in my... attention . You will be there,trapped in that particular paradise, until you talk. Or until you simply lose
your mind.'
With efficient, ruthless hands, she began to unbuckle his belt. 'And you
will talk. They always do.'
FOUR
The leather slid free with a soft hiss. The Trident agent’s breathing hitched, asharp, ragged sound in the quiet room. His eyes, wide and dark with a potentcocktail of fear and a traitorous, drug-induced arousal, followed her every
move.
'You see,' Tina murmured, her voice a low, silken purr that vibrated against hisskin as she leaned close. 'The body often betrays the mind. It speaks a muchmore honest language.' The zipper of his trousers came next, the soundobscenely loud. She tugged the fabric down his hips, her knuckles brushingagainst the hot, tense skin of his abdomen. He shuddered violently, a full-body tremor that was not from the toxin, but from her.
His briefs tented prominently, a stark testament to his body’s unwilling—orperhaps, on some primal level, very willing—surrender. A wicked,triumphant grin touched Tina’s lips. So predictable. Men of such rigiddiscipline were always the most deliciously vulnerable to this specific formof interrogation. Their control was a dam, and she was the expert at finding
the cracks.
'Your eyes are begging me,' she whispered, her breath warm against hischeek. 'They’re screaming what your mouth cannot.' With a final, deliberatetug, she freed him. He was fully, achingly erect, the flush of his skin a starkcontrast to the clinical, impersonal beige of the hotel carpet beneath them.A low, guttural moan escaped his lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated
anguish and need.
Tina’s smile widened. Perfect.
She lowered her head, her silver hair falling like a curtain around her face,obscuring his view. He could only feel. Her lips, impossibly soft, brushedagainst the throbbing tip of his cock. He bucked against the relaxant toxin,a fruitless, spasmodic jerk. A harsh, ragged groan was torn from his throat.
'Shhh,' she soothed, the sound vibrating through him. 'Just feel. Let the
toxin do its work. Let me do mine.'
Then her mouth closed over him.
It was not a rapid, frantic motion. It was the exact opposite. It was a slow,all-consuming conquest. Her head remained almost preternaturally still.
Instead, she used the exquisite muscles of her throat and tongue, amastery honed over decades, to manipulate him. She created a devastatingvacuum of pleasure, her tongue swirling a torturous pattern against his mostsensitive flesh. She mapped every inch of him with a meticulous,unhurried precision, applying varying pressures, alternating betweensoft, fluttering sucks and firm, demanding pulls.
His world dissolved into a haze of sensation. The psychoactive toxinamplified every touch, twisting the pleasure into something so acute itbordered on pain. His breath came in sharp, helpless gasps. His fingers,though they couldn’t move, felt like they were clawing at the floor. God… oh god… The thoughts in his head fragmented, scattering like shardsof glass. Coherent resistance was impossible. There was only the heat ofher mouth, the silk of her hair against his thighs, the unbearable, building
pressure in his core.
He spilled into her mouth with a choked, strangled cry, his body convulsingagainst the drug-induced prison of his own limbs. The release was violent,overwhelming, a tidal wave of sensation that left him gasping and shattered.
But Tina did not stop.
She was slow. Thorough. Meticulous. She worked him through theshuddering aftershocks, her techniques relentless, until he was soft in hermouth. She gave him moments, mere seconds of respite, her lips stillplaying gently, tenderly almost, until the combination of her skill and thetoxin’s insidious work brought him back to a full, aching hardness. And
she began again.
This cycle repeated itself for what felt like an eternity. Time lost allmeaning in the gilded cage of the hotel suite. Each peak she wrungfrom him was a piece of intel extracted. Each moan, each helpless buckof his hips, was a confession. She was pulling everything from him—his training, his secrets, his very essence—leaving him spent andhollowed out. The poison’s grip on his muscles had long since faded,but he was far too exhausted, too utterly drained, to even considermoving. He lay there, a willing prisoner of his own depletion.
Finally, Tina pulled away, a single strand of silver hair sticking to herdamp lip. She looked down at him, his chest heaving, his eyes glazed
unfocused. She had what she needed.
'Time for us to part, my dear Trident agent,' she said, her refined accentcutting through the heavy silence. 'But one final kiss. A specialty of
mine.'
With a fluid dancer's grace, she moved. She straddled his legs, her slenderform poised over his nakedness. She took him into her mouth one last time,the sensation making him jerk weakly. Then, in a move of breathtakingathleticism, she launched herself over him, planting her hands on thecarpet by his shoulders and inverting her body. The soft pads of herbare feet came to rest on either side of his head, her calves framing his
vision.
He was trapped beneath an impossible, beautiful arch of woman. Her bodywas inverted, a perfect, taut sculpture of muscle and grace. The slim line ofher back, the defiant curve of her small, perfect ass dancing in the air abovehim, the incredible strength in her legs—it was a breathtaking, lethal display.
Then she began to move. She twisted her torso, a slow, corkscrewing motionthat made her mouth spiral around his length with an intensity that stole theair from his lungs. She held the position, a human wheel of pleasure anddeath, every muscle in her body defined and straining with the effort.
A fresh, shocking wave of pleasure, more intense than any before, crashedover him. His back arched off the floor, a raw, broken sound ripped fromhis throat as his body convulsed in a final, cataclysmic release. She heldfirm, immovable, as he bucked and spasmed beneath her, until the lastshudder passed through him and he fell still, completely unconscious.
Tina held the pose for a full minute longer, a final act of dominant control,before releasing him and vaulting soundlessly to her feet. She looked downat his still form, a faint sheen of sweat on her own skin the only evidence
of her exertion.
'The Thai Twisting Scorpion Kiss,' she said to the silent room. 'A fatal kiss,in this case. For your career and your life.'
She walked to the mirror, checking her impeccable reflection. A slow smile
spread across her face.
FIVE
The opulent pool area of the resort shimmered under the afternoon sun, aglittering playground for the rich and dangerously connected. Tina Samuels,poured into a stunning pink-colored bikini that contrasted beautifully withher silver hair and sun-kissed skin, was the undisputed center of attention.
She laughed, a low, musical sound, as a circle of admirers hung on herevery word. Her movements were a masterclass in casual seduction—astretch that arched her back, a slow sip of champagne that drew eyes toher lips, a casual touch on an arm that made powerful men stammer.
And all the while, her mind was a steel trap, filing away snippets ofconversation that could be of use on her mission. The increased securitynear the east wing. The guest list for the Ambassador’s supper club. Shewas gathering the pieces of the puzzle, one flirtatious smile at a time.
But while she watched her targets, another pair of eyes watched her. Froma chaise lounge, a woman observed Tina with a predator’s stillness. Mandy.
A Trident Plus agent.
Tina disappeared into a private cabana nestled in a grove of tropical plants,slipping away from her crowd of admirers to process what she had learned.The humid air inside the cabana was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine.Without hesitation, she reached behind her back, unhooked her bikini top,and let it fall. Then, she pushed the pink bottoms down her hips, steppingout of them with the grace of a panther. She was completely nude, her skinglowing in the dappled light filtering through the canvas, when the cabanaflap rustled open, her expected guest had arrived.Mandy stood there, her expression unreadable. Her eyes roamed over Tina’sbody, not with jealousy, but with cold, professional appraisal. 'Expectingsomeone?' she asked, her voice a low, smooth alto.
'Hoping,' Tina corrected, her refined accent dripping with implication. Shegestured to the generous lounger. 'The party was becoming… tedious.'
A slow, dangerous smile touched Mandy’s lips. In one fluid motion, shgripped the sides of her one-piece and peeled it down, revealing a form thatwas all coiled power and sleek, defined muscle. She was magnificent, andutterly lethal. She didn’t speak another word, simply joined Tina on the widelounger, her body moving with a silent purpose that made Tina’s heart beat
faster.
Mandy’s lips found Tina’s, and the kiss was not soft or exploring. It was aclaim. A confident, deep kiss that stole the air from Tina’s lungs. ThenMandy was moving, her body a sinuous blur of motion. She slid down thelounger, her hands gripping Tina’s thighs, and her mouth found its true target.
Tina gasped, her head falling back as a bolt of pure, undiluted pleasure shotthrough her. Mandy’s tongue was an instrument of devastating precision,lashing and circling with an expertise that was terrifying in its efficiency.
Tina’s climax hit her almost instantly, a sharp, shocking wave that made herback arch off the lounger. Before she could even recover, Mandy drove herinto a second, more intense one, a minute later.
This is a weapon, Tina thought, her mind scrambling. She’s weaponizing
pleasure.
A third climax began to build, deeper, more consuming, threatening to pullher under completely. Desperate to regain control, Tina sat up at the waist,her hands flying to Mandy’s back. Her nails, filed to razor-sharp points andvarnished with a paralytic agent, sought purchase on the other woman’sslick skin. She tried to scratch, to dig in, to end this.
But her fingers slipped away, finding no traction. Mandy’s skin wasimpossibly smooth, coated in a strange, frictionless oil.
It was exactly the reaction Mandy had been waiting for. In a flash ofmotion that defied her powerful frame, her body uncoiled and thenrecoiled. It was a breathtakingly fast, fluid movement—the Plus PythonKnot. Her nude form wrapped around Tina’s, limb over limb, a living,breathing constrictor of muscle and warm skin. She pulled them bothdown onto the lounger, Tina now utterly ensnared within the powerful,
oily bands of her body.
Mandy’s mouth returned to its work, her tongue dancing its relentlessdance, but now her whole body joined the symphony. With everyshuddering, mind-crushing orgasm she wrung from Tina, Mandy’s limbscontracted almost imperceptibly, tightening their intimate embrace.
'Trident Scratch-Proof Suntan Oil,' Mandy murmured against Tina’s thigh, hervoice a husky whisper. 'You’re too dangerous a woman to let get close. So I
was sent to get close to you.'
Tina could only moan, her slim form heaving, trying to thrash within theimpossible, slippery confinement. Each movement only seemed to entwine
them tighter.
After what felt like an eternity of pleasure-edged torture, Mandy paused,lifting her head. Tina lay utterly still beneath her, breath coming in raggedgasps, every nerve ending screaming.
'The Kissing Python Variant,' Mandy said, her voice thick with her ownarousal. 'My speciality. There is no known escape for a woman. A Plus agentjust makes it more… absolute.' She lowered her head again, her breath hoton Tina’s damp skin. 'I’ve got you, ‘old woman’. Coiled. Kissed. And soon
to be an ex-agent.'
Her tongue flicked out, a final, cruel promise. 'Feel me. My body. My
strength. Just… feel.'
And as another devastating orgasm was ripped from her, Tina could donothing but obey, her world dissolving into sensation and the terrifying,soft, wonderful fullness of the agent’s relentless, crushing embrace. Hermind, her greatest weapon, scrambled for a solution, any solution.
SIX
Tina’s world was a shimmering, overheated haze. Her body, a finelytuned instrument of seduction and death, felt like it had been playedto the point of breaking. Every muscle was a liquid sigh, her skinhumming with the ghost of a dozen forced climaxes. Mandy’s weightwas still a possessive, crushing pleasure for her, a beautiful prison of
muscle and intent.
'One more climax will finish you, old woman,' Mandy hissed, her voicea cocktail of triumph and raw desire. Her tongue, impossibly skilled andrelentless, found Tina’s swollen, oversensitive clitoris and resumed its
merciless assault.
Tina’s back arched off the cushions, a silent, strained scream caught in herthroat. She panted, each breath a desperate struggle. Too much. Too intense.
Her mind, usually a fortress of cold calculation, was a scrambled mess ofsensation. But deep beneath the waves of pleasure-pain, a single, hardthought remained: a seed of ice in the inferno. Patience.
Her body, betraying her with its own trained responsiveness, began to climbagain. The heat coiled low in her belly, a traitorous, familiar tightening. Mandyfelt it, a subtle clenching that made her groan with anticipation against Tina’s
flesh. She’s so close. I have her.
But the climb was achingly, impossibly slow. Tina’s exhausted system, drainedof its reserves, fought the ascent. The knot of tension built not with the sharp,eager peak of before, but with a languid, almost reluctant inevitability. It wasthe difference between a firecracker and a slow-burning fuse. Mandy, lost inthe rhythm of her conquest and the heady power of her own strength,misinterpreted the delay. She saw it as the final, glorious resistance before a
total surrender.
Tina felt the precise moment Mandy’s focus shifted from pure control toshared ecstasy. The younger agent’s hips made a slow, grinding circle againsther thighs, a seeking, desperate motion. A fine sheen of sweat, born of herown exertions, now glistened on Mandy’s powerful back. Dampness.
The ice in Tina’s mind spread.
The orgasm, when it finally broke over her, was different. It wasn't thesharp, shattering peak Mandy had ripped from her before. It was a deep,resonant unspooling, slow-motion collapse of every straining muscle. Along, guttural moan was dragged from Tina’s chest, a sound of pure,
unadulterated release.
Mandy sighed in supreme satisfaction, her body going slack for a fractionof a second, her head dropping out of contact as a smile of victory crossed
her face.
She didn't push. She didn't struggle. Instead, she let time work for her. Thesudden lack of resistance, the total surrender, was so complete it wasdisorienting. Mandy’s powerful thighs, locked around her, loosened theirvice-like grip by a precious, half an inch, then more by slow increments
over time.
Tina slid free, not with a fight, but with the quiet inevitability of a sigh.She spilled from the agent’s embrace like water, her body cooling rapidlFor a long moment, she just lay on the cool tiles, breathing. Letting herheart rate settle. Letting the feeling return to her trembling limbs. Shewatched Mandy, who was still riding the high of her assumed victory,a smug, dazed smile playing on her lips.
'Thank you for the workout,' Tina said, her voice husky but regaining itsrefined, cutting edge. She pushed herself up on one elbow, everymovement deliberate, economical. 'And the sex. You are incredibly
skilled.'
Mandy’s eyes fluttered open, the smile faltering as she registered Tina’s
movement, her clarity. 'What…?'
'But you took too long, my dear,' Tina continued, reaching for herdiscarded bikini top. She held it up, not to put it on, but to examinea nearly invisible seam along the edge. 'You see, my Muscle Relaxanthairspray is very effective, but it’s a patient compound. It needs time… and dampness… to work into the skin.' She gave Mandy a pointedlook, her eyes tracing the sweat-slicked skin of the agent’s shouldersand back. 'You screwed me for just a little too long. You worked up
quite a sweat.'
Mandy’s eyes widened. She tried to push herself up, to lunge, but herarms betrayed her. They trembled, then gave way, a look of shockedconfusion replacing the arrogance on her face. A delayed reaction. A
cellular surrender.
'Now,' Tina said, her voice a silken whisper as she began to pull a thin,almost translucent thread from the seam of her bikini top. It unspooledwith a faint, silken hiss. 'One constriction deserves another. This spool oftwine is a marvel of nano-engineering. When wrapped around a warm body… it contracts. It drinks the heat. It will hold you, Mandy, slowly, gently,doing to you what your magnificent body ultimately couldn’t accomplish
on me.'
With a speed that belied her apparent exhaustion, Tina moved. She loopedthe thread around Mandy’s wrists, then her ankles, weaving a deceptivelydelicate-looking web around the powerful, now-sluggish limbs and torso.
The filament seemed to cling to the agent’s skin, tightening almost
imperceptibly with each passing second.
'I’d love to stay and watch the process,' Tina murmured, finally slippingher bikini top and bottom back on.. 'But I have a mission to complete.’
She leaned over the bound agent, who could only glare up at her withfurious, drugged eyes. Tina cupped Mandy’s cheek, her thumb
stroking her lovely lips.
'You came so very close,' she said, genuine admiration coloringher tone. 'But experience is such a good teacher. And I’m afraid,my dear, you get a failing grade.' She leaned in, her silver hair
brushing Mandy’s face. 'A ‘D’ for death.'
She pressed her lips to Mandy’s in a final, searing kiss. It was not akiss of poison, but of pure, unadulterated triumph. Then, withoutbackward glance, Tina Samuels swept the cabana curtain aside andstepped out into the night, the sounds of the distant ball fading asshe disappeared into the shadows, the taste of victory and thepromise of another dangerous game on her lips. She could almostfeel the weight of another notch waiting to be added to her lipstickcase as she moved toward the resort's glowing lights, a sleek,
silver predator.
SEVEN
The hot water was a baptism, washing away the lingering sweatand scent of Mandy’s near-victory. Tina sank deeper, letting thesteam cleanse not just her skin but her focus. The mission wasparamount. The intel Mandy had so fruitlessly guarded was nowhers: a secure data chip, locked in a safe within the resort’sexclusive penthouse suite. A smile touched her lips. This calls
for my catsuit & a midnight excursion.
But first, the armor. Reaching for a crystal vial, she poured ameasure of iridescent oil into the bathwater. It swirled,shimmering like a slick of petrol on water, and then dissolved,leaving a faint, floral-citrus scent. The special oil coated everyinch of her from the neck down, a poisonous second skin thatwould deliver a potent neurotoxin upon direct contact. A defensive
weapon as intimate as her own flesh.
She rose from the water, droplets cascading down a body thatdefied its fifty-seven years. She padded herself dry with a plushtowel, a deliberate, almost ritualistic patting that avoided rubbingthe delicate, weaponized layer off her skin. Moving to her vanity,she took up her hairbrush. The silver mane was dried with practicedefficiency, then given a final mist from an unmarked aerosol can.
The hairspray held its shape, and a potent muscle relaxant, a fine, invisible cloud settling over her head like a toxic halo.
Next, her nails. She filed each one to a sharp, almond-shaped pointbefore carefully applying two coats of a demure, shell-pink varnish.The polish contained a fast-acting paralytic agent. One scratch andthey’re stiff for hours,she mused, admiring her handiwork as she blew
on her fingertips.
Finally, the pièce de résistance. She opened a slender, silver case, itsinterior lined with myriad lipstick bullets, each a different shade ofdeath. Her finger hovered, then selected a sleek tube of deep salmon.
I do like this Salmon shade, she decided, applying it with a practicedhand, ensuring full, perfect coverage. One kiss, a mere glancing pressof her lips, would be instantly fatal. The ultimate kiss-off.
'Now for the suit,' she whispered to her reflection.
She retrieved the garment from its case, the material a whisper ofadvanced polymers and woven carbon fiber in a matte, shadowyblack. She unrolled it on the floor, a second skin waiting to beinhabited. Donning it was not a simple task; it was a discipline,a fusion of espionage and erotic art. She incorporated yoga into
the process, a seductive dance of encapsulation.
She slipped one bare foot into the rolled-up leg, then the other.
Then, with a deep, graceful arch of her back, she began to slowlydraw the suit upward. Her body stretched and curved in a seriesof sinuous, hypnotic bends. The tight fabric resisted, then yielded,clinging to every defined muscle, every subtle curve of her hipsand abdomen. She teased it over her thighs, her movements adeliberate, sensual performance for an audience of one—herself,in the mirror. Her 57-year-old form was a wonder of sinuous sexappeal, a testament to a lifetime of discipline and deadly intent.
A memory, warm and dangerous, flickered through her mind.
Another hotel room, another agent. She had been halfway into thisvery suit, one breast bare, the other encased in black, when he’dfoolishly burst in, thinking her vulnerable. Her half-nude, half-catsuited body had enthralled then entangled him in a lethal
Pitcher Plant Knot before he could even draw his weapon. He’dbeen so distracted by the glimpse of skin, the tantalizing contrast,that he never saw the trap closing. He had been another notch.
Fully encased now, she stood before the full-length mirror. The suitwas a masterpiece, leaving nothing to the imagination yet hiding itsmost potent weapon—the poison on her skin—beneath its sleeksurface. She pulled her hair up into a severe knot, the final preparationof a warrior priestess. A deep, calming breath. Showtime.
The balcony of her suite offered a steep descent of five stories tothe courtyard below. Her fingers, protected by thin polymer padson the catsuit’s fingertips, found invisible seams in the stucco. Herbody, a coil of trained strength, lowered her downward into the
warm, salty night air.
Tina slipped into the shadows moving along the darkened wallof the resort, a shadow among shadows. Her slim form openedthe gate to the tropical garden that she needed to pass through
unaware of the deadly dangers that lay within.
SEVEN
He shook against her, a violent, helpless tremor that originateddeep within his core and radiated out through every muscle shehad so expertly entangled. Tina felt it ripple through her ownbody, a familiar and deeply satisfying vibration. Her mouth,a wet, warm seal around him, pulled another wave of pleasure
from his captured form, and she hummed in approval, the sound
a low thrum that made him gasp.
Not quite what you imagined when we slipped into bed earlier,was it, Trident agent? Her voice was a silken whisper against hisheated skin, a stark contrast to the iron-like grip her limbs heldhim in. Still… you love it, don’t you? She flexed a smooth,powerful thigh, tightening the complex weave of arms and legsthat held him utterly motionless. An aging woman. A sharp dresser.
I still have a body, why not another conquest? A diversion, if youwill… before you get serious about your mission.
He strained, the cords in his neck standing out in sharp relief. A
strangled sound escaped his lips. 'You bitch!'
She tutted softly, her breath ghosting over his ear. 'Language, please.This is all part of the bigger game we play, you and I. Her ageless,experienced form was wrapped about his, a magnificent nude sculptureof control and seduction. He thrust against the unyielding pressure ofher knot, a futile, primal movement that only served to heighten hisown maddening stimulation. It’s wonderful to see you still have lotsof fight. Your prong is wonderfully… responsive.
She shifted minutely, a subtle re-angling of her hips that drew a sharp,involuntary groan from his throat. I have you in a Kissing SnapdragonKnot, she cooed, her tone that of a university lecturer explaining a
fascinating theory.
‘But back to the present Trident agent and situation, it’s draining,isn;t it and achingly slow to contract for the female… but maddeninglyimpossible to escape from for the male. It was developed in FeudalJapan by female ninjas to extract information. They killled with it,after getting what they wanted. Her lips found his shoulder, not biting,but placing a soft, open-mouthed kiss there. You can suffer the samefate… or you can talk, and live. The choice is yours, sweetie.
His eyes, wide with a furious mix of panic and unwilling arousal,darted around the lavish hotel suite before locking onto the massive,mirrored canopy above the bed. Tina watched his reflection, a predator
pleased with her catch.
‘Do take a look’, she murmured. ‘See how my body has you in its coils.
Your writhing form, trapped by an ageless vixen.’
He stared. His own face, flushed and desperate, was framed by the pale, =seemingly delicate limbs of the woman pinning him. The contrast wasdevastating. Her strength was not in bulk, but in a perfect, unassailableposition. In knowing exactly how to neutralize the raw power hepossessed with her flexibility and cunning. The sight of it, of hisown helplessness, seemed to break something inside him.
'How…?' he choked out.
That was the fun part although you were rather enthusiastic when yousaw me in my negligee. You even fell for the, let me slip intosomething more comfortable, line,’ she said. ‘Ironic, my slippinginto something more comfortable, enabled me to slip around you.My anemone negligee packs quite a paralysing sting The knot itselfis merely training. And feminine wiles. Her hips rolled again, a slow,circular grind that made his breath hitch. I have a vast array of knotsin my arsenal. It is, without a doubt, the deadliest weapon of a femalespy. Our soft bodies, coiled about and into the stronger male, neutralizing
all that power.
She lowered her mouth to his chest, tracing a line down his sternumwith the tip of her tongue. Some knots are lethal in minutes. Others…the ones I prefer… are slow. Very, very slow. To get a male to talk…or just to enjoy the dominance. Her eyes flicked up to meet his in themirror, holding his gaze as her lips traveled lower, across the taut planeof his stomach. Others, my favourites, are purely sexual. Some oral…some anal… others, pure paradise. But any one of them, held over anextended period of time, is fatal. A man simply doesn’t have the staminaof a woman. We can go on… much, much longer.
Her head dipped, her silver-blonde hair cascading between his legs.
'Oral knots, like the one you’re trapped in now… are particularlytorturous. The stimulation is maddening… until you simply expirein our mouths. Her lips were a hair’s breadth away from him now.
He was fully, painfully hard, straining against the unbearable tensionof the knot and the proximity of her mouth. That can be your fate ifyou don’t talk. You’ll spend your remaining time helpless in mybody and in my mouth. Coiled. Knotted. And sucked dry by a
silver siren. Is that what you want?
To Tina, this was the true rush. Not just the physical control, butthe psychological unraveling. The talk. The explanation. The feelof her prey’s heart hammering against her own chest. She lovedusing her body as both prison and instrument.
‘Poison lipsticks are fine’, she thought, her mouth watering. ‘Butyou don’t need them. A woman’s mouth is the softest, sweetest
form of death there is.’
She saw the conflict in his eyes in the mirror, the fight slowlybleeding out and being replaced by a dawning, terrifying acceptance.
A surrender. She smiled.
‘Another session, lover?’ she hummed, the vibration skitteringacross his hypersensitive skin. ‘Then… we can talk again.’
Her wet, crimson lips parted. Her warm breath caressed him.
