Claire on a Mission
Posted: Mon May 30, 2016 6:21 pm
Claire On a Mission
by Dave Dorc
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Claire ruffled her blond hair and checked her lips gloss in the full length mirror. She turned and admired her trim figure set off to perfection in her newly acquired Broke Airways cabin crew uniform, of comfortable flat shoes, nearly black tights, dark blue skirt, black leather belt, white blouse (that was just thin enough to give a hint of the white lace bra beneath). From behind her came the sound of rustling of nylon and faint whimpering
“Uuuuummmmpphhhh......hhhhhhhppllllllmmmmmpphhh”
Claire smile broaden as she bent and picked up the uniform jacket and pillbox hat from the chair.
“Shush darling, best if you just lay still and conserve your energy” Claire purred “Your going to need it ‘cos no one will even begin to look for you for at least three days...Then of course they’ll have to locate the tree to which you are secured...”
As the whimpering gave way to muffled sobs, Claire grabbed the flight bag and blowing the naked wriggling woman a kiss she walked out of the caravan.
“Paula” she addressed her butch accomplice “Make sure that Miss Air Stewardess 1990 in there is tied to a particularly rough tree, in a very...very deserted spot, the ***** laddered my best tights with all her struggles...still I hope she enjoys the taste of them” She giggled again and giving Paula an affectionate pat on her Desiree Claire got into the car and drove off
Later that evening WPC McGuire was checking the credentials of the aircrew before they entered the secure area. She yawned it had been a long boring shift and she was beginning to dream of a hot steaming bubble bath, a bottle of ice cold wine and even the likelihood that the pretty little black student in the next door flat could be “persuaded” to join her.
“Excuse me Officer, I am so sorry to trouble you but I have to make a confession...”
The soft words snapped the WPC back to reality. She gazed up at the tail blond Cabin Stewardess who stood close to her a beautiful wide “come to bed with me” smile on her face.
“I would appear to have lost my identity badge...” she rather fetchingly bit her bottom lip in a “little girl lost” sort of way.
“Feck” thought McGuire as she considered the mountain of paper work involved in recording the loss.
“I am sure I had it in the “Ladies” back in terminal 7, but it’s all closed up now and I am scared of the dark”
The WPC groaned and was minded to reprimand the woman severely...
“I am so...so sorry officer...I am a naughty girl and deserve to be spanked severely...” She smiled at the WPC with her big baby blue eyes.
McGuire smiled back at the woman as she mulled the over the thought of taking a carpet slipper to the taught panty clad backside of the Stewardess “Well I better come and help you find it”
They talked and laughed as they walked down dimly light corridors, through security doors and into the echoing terminal.
“In here I think” the blond pushed over the toilet door and stood aside to let the WPC enter before her.
The toilet was small only five cubicles and a janitor’s cupboard, thus it was fairly easy for McGuire to find the badge, it was face down on the floor at the far end of the room by the cupboard by a black fight bag
They moved quickly to it and with the woman behind her, McGuire picked it up.
“Why thank you officer...you have been so helpful”
“Hang on Miss” McGuire said puzzled as she looked at the picture on the badge, it was definitely NOT the smiling woman behind her “This is not yours”
“Yes I know...a small detail but with big...big consequences...for you!” Claire hissed as her left hand clamped air tight over the nose and mouth of the goggle- eyed WPC while her right arm pinioned the surprised woman’s arms helplessly to her uniformed body.
“No stop that struggling you cannot escape and your only making it worse for yourself”
With her legs kicked out from under her McGuire could not get a purchase to fight back effectively, her bucking and helpless mewing only served to use up her oxygen quicker. Try as she might she could not free herself from the vicelike grip of her assailant. Her hat worked over her face, her body forced forward into a bow shape.
In less than four minutes and it was all over. Ten more minutes later and the naked form of WPC McGuire was secured and stowed in the cubical, while her uniform, plan white bra, panties and woollen socks were packed into the flight bag.
“So sorry darling!...pleasant dreams yeah”
Claire closed the cubical and after leaving the “Toilets Closed for Cleaning” sign on the outer door and the crisp sound of her foot falls faded into the semi-darkness.
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A woman clutching a black flight bag slowly walked towards the Broke Airways offices. The string of overhead yellow sodium lights that illuminated her path danced in the vigorous cold northerly wind, their reflections dancing in the puddles.
Out of the blackness a blond stewardess walked towards her. The shapely woman seemed engrossed with her mobile phone, so did not appear to see the woman until she walked right into her. Both women dropped the bags that they were carrying. The Stewardess loudly and profusely apologised and retrieving a flight bag sauntered off into the darkness.
The woman continued her stroll until she reached a small group of disused Portacabins beside the car park. A swift look around to check the coast was clear, thirty seconds to work the lock and she was safe inside the shabby, musty smelling office. A cracked frosted glass window pane, provided the only light. But she did not need any more.
The woman walked into a small room which contained two small tables and other three walls had filing racking from floor to ceiling, containing dusty paper files, plus some collections of pens, pencils and long rulers.
"Guess that will help with sound suppression" She whispered softly to herself.
Placing the bag on one of the tables she unzipped it. A big smile came to her face for it was not her bag. Inside, rather crumpled was a policewoman's uniform complete with hat and underwear.
The woman kicked off her trainers, pulled off her thick thigh length knitted top and rolled off her grey leggings. As she was already wearing white cotton panties she decided not to bother with the cops cotton "high-cuts" these were shoved back in the bag for future use. Finally, setting the cops hat a jaunty angle she exited the Portacabin and walked to car park gate the light rain brushing her face like Champaign bubbles.
A cars headlights flicked off and a few second later a tall woman of athletic build, wearing a Broke Airways pilots uniform walked towards the gate.
“Excuse me Miss” The fake WPC said in an authoritarian tone, just as the pilot stepped through the gate “May I see your identity”
“Oh! gosh officer you made me jump” The woman was in her mid-thirties with short black hair and an skin tone that hinted of a Mediterranean ancestry.
"This darn rain" The fake WPC smiled "Your nice uniform is getting all wet...shall we just pop into the dry and we can discuss things" Her hand flicked out to indicate the general direction the pilot should take towards the Portacabin...and she obeyed.
"Its rather dark in here" The pilot said with a note of trepidation in her voice as she crossed the thresh hold of the dingy office.
"Don't worry my dear" The fake WPC closed and locked the door behind her "After all it would be a very...very silly person who would tangle with me...Now let me have your identity papers, then we'll see about that uniform of yours.
If one had been an innocent rabbit, that happened to have been passing, your very sensitive hearing may have detected the following noises "What my clothes are you Mad!!!"....a series of crashes...the dull thud of blows being struck with associated yelps of pain...the whack of a large paper file as it hit a head clad in a reinforced cops hat...feet running...a door being thrown open...a "OH No you don't... back in you come!"...more blows and then whimpers...."Please...please don't hit me again...you can have my uniform...just leave me my undies...then after a short while "No...please not with them"..sobbing and then..."Stuff your own mouth with them or I'll rip your arm off and beat you to death with the sticky end" The sobs flowed and subsided with a muffled...UUUmmmmmppphhhh.
Ten minutes later a woman in a pilots uniform emerged and stood brushing down her skirt. Turning she surveyed the seen. The pilot was face down on the small table, her top half protruded over the edge, her small breasts dangling. From those breasts down to her trim waist she was encased in duct tape, like a mummy. Her arms that had previously been folded and taped behind her were also included in the wrap. Her kneels had been spread wide and taped to the top of the table. Her ankles silently kicked the air, as if practising a swimming stroke.
"But it would be a long time before you'll be able to put that to use again" The fake pilot smiled to her self as she looked into the tear stained face of her victim. The woman gazed back a hopeless silent plea for mercy. Her mouth bulging with a good sound deadening stuffing taped in place.
In the low little levels it was impossible for the fake pilot to see the full extent of the "Glow" she had created on the derriere of the wriggling pilot, but with two broken rulers lying on the floor she guessed that the next time the pilot was asked for her clothes the compliance would be instantaneous.
"Bye Honey...hope you enjoy the room as you'll be her for some days" The fake Pilot grind "And by the way..." she turned and hitched up the uniform skirt and white silk slip...."Are my seams straight?"
A muffled wail and sobs was all the response she got. so grabbing the now empty flight bag she locked the office door and exited and secured the Portacabin.
As she passed a glass door in the office block she stopped to adjust her newly acquired black lace suspenders, a gust of wind flipped up her skirt and slip revealing a red lacy thong....much to the delight of a group of baggage handlers as the changed shift.
"You took your time" Claire hissed as they walked up the corridor. "There has been a complication...The targets have not only brought along some poor "Girl Friday" for the meeting but have arranged a little "In Flight Entertainment" in the shape of a couple of high class slu*s...Look!"
She pushed open the door to the executive jet green room. The lounging by the bar stood two women, blonds in their late teens early twenties, drinking Port and Lemon and dressed in majorettes uniforms.
"Apparently Ms Sophie Ashwell has a little kink for those type of uniforms" Claire growled.
"Don't we all darling...dont we all darling...dont we..." Mussed the pilot licking her lips
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Both agents turned to one another and said in unison "The Podimore girls"
Stepping out into a quite area Claire made the call.
Francesca dropped silently from the bedroom window on the manicured grass and standing in her "baby doll" nightie she shivered in the cold rain "Why aren't we ever called out on a warm summers day" she mussed aloud.
"Cos we get paid extra Sis." Her identical twin whispered as she joined her "However, since dear Mummy and Daddy have taken to locking our clothes away at night to stop our little "Trips" guess its time for the agency to up our rates...Come on lets get some gear and some wheels"
Silently the two identically dress 18 year olds padded into the night. Once out of the posh estate they took to the roof tops of the city. Free-running they made the night club district in ten minutes. They stopped, panting only slightly, on a flat low roof over looking the car park of the Coco Cabana night club. a classy joint were your feet stuck to the floor tiles and the saw dust on the floor was last nights furniture and all the drinks came in mucky glasses.
It was cold but they did not have long to wait.
A group of eight women burst out of the club door, one ran to a car keys in hand. Another ran after her and pulled her out of the vehicle before she could drive off. “Come here you tart...try to get off with me Darren would you slag” A fight developed the others crowded round the struggling women as hair was pulled, skimpy dresses were torn and punches thrown.
Francesca looked at her sister “At least four good matches I think...shall we?”
Her twin smiled “Why not”
They dropped silently behind the group “Mind if we join in ladies...”
The noise from the night club masked most of the screams of pain and the cries futile cries for mercy.
The girls propped the selected women, against the car and stripped them naked. The leopard/tiger print underwear they decided was not for them, so they used the thongs and bras as mouth packing. Then let the four side to the floor, while the girls tried on the leggings, tights and micro skirts and tops. Having decided on their new apparel, they tore the rest up and used the strips to bind the women hand and foot before adding a tight cleave gag to ensure there could be no "tonguing out" off the soft, sweaty, silencing, stuffing.
Once done and to ensure their could be no claims of favouritism, by any of the slags’ they decided to strip and secure them in a similar fashion. But keeping back the four thongs this time they used so leggings and tights as gags. One at a time the women had to be then dragged into a dark alley and hoisted up on to the lip of a particularly smell dumpster. Till the dumpster was lined with some pert and some not so pert backsides. Grabbed the bound ankles they flipped the women inside and slammed the lid shut. Both giggling girls agreed that the rattle of a nearby large air-conditioning plant would effectively mask any muffled cries for help.
The drove off towards the airport throwing the emptied purses into a canal as they went.
Back in the Green Room, Claire engaged the two prostitutes in conversation while surreptitiously slipping a little white powder into their drinks. Once the hapless duo seamed suitably woozy. Claire suggested it was time to board the aircraft. “Just need to do certain security procedures and to debrief you first...This way “ladies”” Claire told the slappers in a suitably soothing tone
Two pairs of rather unsteady, if very shapely legs clad in black high gloss PVC thigh boots staggered and swayed as the fresh air hit. The two blond bimbos had to be guided by Claire and “the Pilot” towards a certain Portacabin. On arrival, they found the door was open and the office inside glowed with light. Claire propelled the staggering twosome inside. The who*es gasped when they saw the butt naked woman taped to table and standing by her two very pretty blonds stood studying the “mmmmppphhhhing” whimpering captive.
One of the blonds looked up “Hi there...nice handiwork...Yours Emily?”
The Pilot made a low mock bow.
“Wasss happping?” one of the majorettes slurred out.
“Oh I’m sorry...Did not Claire explain...Well I’m Francesca and this is my sister who is also called Francesca...Say Hi to the nice ladies Francesca”
“Hi Whor*s” Francesca grinned at the bleary eye women “We are going to take your places and then leave you very tightly bound and gagged on this table...Just in your undies to await your fate...strip please” she added with a smile.
The sedated strumpets panicked, one tried throw a punch at one of the Francescas’ and bitterly regretted it as she slumped to the floor clutching her stomach in agony. The other tried to run but Francesca’s foot tripped her up. The young tart fell face down, her long painted fingernails just reaching the doorway. Francesca bent forward and grabbing the booted ankles dragged the struggling girl back into the room.
“Helllpppppp NNoooooo... please mummy....mummy....mummmyyyyy!” the floozy’s screams were cut off as the door was quietly closed and locked.
Fifteen, frantic fighting, minutes later two very sorrowful tarts sat back to back on the other small table. They were just in their lacy underwear of bra and panties. One wh*re wore a bright red set the other green. One girl’s shoulder straps had slid down, so thus the areolas of her surgically enhanced breasts were cresting her cups of her bra, not unlike two suns setting over green hills on a smoggy day. Their arms were wrapped back around each other, with the wrists of one being secured to the crotch rope of the other and vice versa to help discourage any struggling.
Further bonds that had been tied around the trim waists and bouncy breasts pulled both tightly together. Each of the slappers’ knees had been secured to the thin table legs, while the ankles bent back under the table had held there in a ball of duct tape.
Claire had just finished interrogating the pleading women as the two Podimore girls approached. Both were now stark naked and held the balled up tights they had been wearing as well as a selection of thongs...the very underwear they had “liberated” only an hour before. The horrified w*ores could only gaze, and gurgle as the silencing wads were mercilessly thumbed into their mouths. A very generous strip of duct tape was smoothed over the bulging cheeks and red gloss lips. More tape was then worked around and around both heads locking these together, but ruining the victims long blond hair in the process. An act for which Claire did proffered her apologies.
The Podimore girls then slid into the high gloss white uniform tights, over which they pulled on the red uniform panties, donned the short white skirts, trimmed with red piping and red “hussar” type jackets with white collars and cuffs plus plenty of gold braid. They hopped around as they worked their long luscious legs into the thigh boots and finally after placing the white shako hats trimmed with gold on their heads.
They paraded around the small room getting use to their uniforms. Once they even ask the subdued former owner if the uniforms looked “OK?” and if “Do you think these panties are a little tight in the crotch...don’t want any “Camel Toes” do we”. Having then intimately inspected each other’s uniform and dusted each other down, they kissed lightly and holding hands headed for the door, without even a backward glance at the poor squirming women, whose tear filled eyes followed them pleading for some hope.
Claire nodded to Emily, who then from her bag extracted three tampons. These they forced up one nostril of each of their identity donors and tamped it firmly home with a pencil. Claire the clamped the flaying woman’s head as Emily added some drops of chloroform to the absorbent insert. Thus ensuring a long slow release that would in turn ensure that the identity donors would enjoy a long deep restful slumber, before finally awakening to the insuperable problem of how to get free and the realisation that they would probably never be found.
After turning out the light and securing the office and Portacabin for the last time, the four agents made there way to hanger, in which the A318 Elite executive jet of the Broke Airways fleet stood its doors open awaiting the agents and their unsuspecting targets
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Once the aircraft levelled off, Claire made her way forward with a drinks trolley. She hoped that the bottle of Pernod-Ricard Perrier-Jouet, (a snip at a mere $50,000 for a two-bottle pack) had been perfectly chilled, or at least that it was chilled enough to mask to drug that was floating in it.
Ms Ashwell lounged back, she had kicked off her designer shoes and removed her dark blue uniform jacket -for it was the banks policy that all employees wore the company uniform. The short skirt showed off her well-honed legs clad in expensive black tights, as she stretched and slid her feet over the deep pile carpet and luxuriated in the sensation. Four other women sat around, three of whom were in expensive designer versions of the banks garb. Two, both blonds wore in match trouser suits and were, Claire would guess about Ashwell’s age …late thirties, while the third a plump woman (some people would say cuddly) had on a low cut dress with matching fishnets and was older.
However, the forth woman…girl more like Claire thought…had shoulder length black hair, thick glasses wore a baggy thick knitted roll neck top in dark brown; a grey skirt cut below the knees; thick grey tights and sensible black shoes. Thus, it was easy to pick out the “Girl Friday” from the bank executives.
Lauren stood up as Ashwell barked at her to: “Go and get those figures prepped for the Nairobi meeting…and do them properly this time” The poor girl had been the butt of many disparaging remarks from all the others.
Elegant and indeed as beautiful as the bankers may have looked, they were in Claire’s eyes, ugly and evil, money-gouging women who would extract the last once of profit and well if that meant people died it was a case of “Hey Ho…Just doing our Job”
Lauren softly sighed and rolled her eyes as she passed Claire. The plan lurched and Claire instinctively grabbed the staggering girl. Lauren in a soft low voice thanked her and made her way to the rear of the aircraft.
“You!” Barbara the older plump woman snapped her figures at Claire. “Drinks Now!”
“Certainly Ladies” Claire smiled “A big glass for madam...”
“Once you’ve done that get those two young sluts back down here” Diana one of the “suits” demanded.
“No not yet” Ashwell snapped, “We will re-run today's meeting first...I think Lirah” she turned to the other suit “You should have pushed their FD far harder on the interest rates”
“But...But” The young woman stammered, “They would never have gone for it...they can't really afford the rates they signed up to and...”
“Silence Lash” Ashwell hissed “Broke airways is finished anyway...the more they are into us the more we can extract when they go titties up...”
“Sophie...”Barbara quickly broke in nodding towards Claire “She works for them”
“Of course she does...for present” Ashwell chuckled bending forward
Claire gasped as Ashwell’s hand slid up her skirt and stroked her stocking clad thighs
“But being a wise and rather sexy little thing...I am sure she understands which side her bread is buttered.
“Please madam!” Claire turned to the grinning woman “If your hand goes higher my ears will pop!”
As her hand slid, higher Ashwell told Claire to be quite or she would have her two bodyguards travelling with them, to forcibly remove her uniform and she could then serve for the rest of the flight “au-natural“.
Claire could tolerate the indignity of being fondled and discussed by the four women, as if she was just so much meat. However, the sight of the grinning faces of the two Podimore sisters peeking out from behind the forward curtail got her angry. So it was with some pleasure that she saw two pairs of hand clamp over the blonds faces and drag them back behind the curtain...Claire guessed rightly that the two female heavies, spurred on by the sight of two pretty pert posteriors pointing at them and in the knowledge that Ashwell would not require their services just yet, had decided it was time to “warm up” the two majorettes. Claire almost felt sort for them...for the bodyguards what is.
Francesca fumed and an uninvited hand slid into her tights. Her tunic was already undone and her puppies were freely wobbling with the motion of the aircraft. True the woman doing the pawing was not unattractive. She had clear blue eyes, blond hair cut mannishly short, she had a pleasing face atop a nice long swan neck and a reasonable pair of titti*s. In different circumstances, Francesca would have welcomed the attention. Nonetheless, being roughly handled and gagged plus still having one arm painfully locked up behind ones back had removed any attraction that she could feel. Her sister was almost in the same predicament, trapped on the lap of her assailant with her uniform open, she was also gagged with tights.
"Now my little slut" Ulrika purred into Francesca's ear "If I take that gag off you and you be quite I let you lick my c*nt you little tease...ok"
Francesca nodded vigorously...Not that she wanted to give any sort of pleasure to this woman...but it would free her from the heavies grip and give her room to manoeuvre, as she intended to despatch this Norse maiden to Valhalla quickly and silently.
"How is yours Inge?" Ulrika called over to her dark haired compatriot
"The little minx...she comes nicely," the other woman giggled untying the majorettes gag.
The Podimore twins winked at each other as the sank to their knees. They had a routine and knew what to do...
First, they acted all compliant and meek. Amply they fulfilled the two Scandinavian beauties needs. Then the started to take charge...swapping fingers for tongues they purred to the women who's strong hands held the twins heads in place "Oh please let me take off your shoes...you'll be so much more comfortable...Now let me ease your trousers and panties all the way down to your ankles...there that's better...." the twins replaced fingers with tongues. The guardians’ thighs pressing on the ears muffled the gasps and sighs but the Podimore girls knew when a woman was "relaxed" and therefore open to suggestions.
Standing up and shedding the clothing, the twins beckoned the women of to a large settee beside the bar and at the furthest point from the curtained entrance to the executive cabin.
The smiling bodyguards shuffled over, their knickers and trousers still around their ankles. The twins seated them one at either end on the settee. They unbuttoned the first three buttons of each woman blouse and sliding hands inside eased the cups of the sports bras down and gently...oh so gently stroked the exposed n*pples with fingers and the tips of their tongues. The bodyguards signed in unison and probably failed to notice than the majorettes had stopped.
"Shall we Francesca” Francesca spoke softly to her twin
“Why not Francesca” Her twin replied
Both girls bent forward and kissed the mouth of victim then stood up big smiles on their cute innocent faces.
The first blow in each case was a chop across the throat to the vocal cords. Grabbing the shoulders of the blouse each girl pulled the blouse down trapping the gurgling women upper arms. The bodyguards then received a kick in the stomach to expel the air in their lungs.
With one hand, each Podimore twin thrust her victim on to her back and with the other; then grabbed pillows from the overhead locker.
The twins lay face up on top of the gasping women, one hand behind them reaching for the underwear wrapped ankles, to stop the flailing limbs. The twins seated themselves on the chests of the women.
“Lets see how you like it” Francesca whispered as she forced Ulrika’s head between her thighs.
The bodyguard must have decided that she did not like it at all for she put up a fight...an increasingly desperate fight as she found the Francesca was not only much stronger then her but was also vicious.
“Time I guess Francesca”
“Recon. so Sis...mine not got much more fight in her”
The twins relaxed their thighs and their head holds...but before the hapless panic stricken victims could draw breath the twins stuffed the pillows between their milky white thighs and closed those handsome limbs, clamping the bodyguards purple faces into them.
Fifteen minutes later the twins stood nonchalantly naked at the bar downing a orange juice each. The bodyguards outer clothing and pistols in two neat piles.
“You two could give me a hand you know” Emily’s voice came from a hatch way in the cabin floor “These *****es are heavy”
Grinning the twins looked down. The small pressurised hold had been designed to accommodate the pets of the wealthy travellers and Emily was in the process of stuffing the underwear clad form of the two Scandinavians into two wire cages designed for big dogs.
“It would have been easier had you not bound and gagged them first” the sweating pilot called up “Or better still finished them off”
“Oh consider it payback for you just standing there watching us poor innocent girls being mauled by those two” Francesca replied “And as for doing finishing them off...well you know Claire and her orders. Besides it would have been too quick for them...no one make me and gets away with it...”
“Yes but darling girl” Her twin gently chided her “To put extra strong itching powder in your victims undies is really going beyond the pale”
“Well” a sweating Emily emerged and locked the hatch “They won’t be able to scratch much that’s for sure...poor things cramped in those cages with their chins on their knees...I’ll put their clothes in a locker and make up a bed with some pillow so it will look as if they have turned in early”
Re: Claire On a Mission
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One hour later Claire was standing at the rear on the aircraft talking to the “Girl Friday” Lauren.
She had just handed the smiling girl a strawberry smoothie that was anything but innocent. As it contained a powerful knockout drug, an expensive drug at that...Claire could almost hear the agencies accountant groaning in disappear as she read the expenses chitty for the operation...
A quick blow just behind the ear as the girl bent over her laptop would have worked just as well...if much more painfully. However, Claire had come to rather take a shine to young Lauren.
The girl was a committed "Chri stian" who rather misguidedly thought it was her role in life to “turn around” Ms Ashwell and company from their “sinful wicked lives”.
Lauren beamed at Claire as she took the drink “You know...I have been praying for them all for two years and I feel that the good lord is now telling me that on this trip they will finally see the error of their ways and have a life changing experience...Oh thank you so much, I love smoothies and strawberry is my favourite”
“Well” Claire thought as she looked at the girl “They and, I am afraid dear Lauren you also, will experience a dramatic and rather terminal experience”
The unsuspecting girl yawned and took a sip “Oh gosh...that is really nice...Say I really don’t know your name...Please tell I would like to pray for you by name tonight”
“Its Claire” The agent said without thinking and found herself shaking hands with Lauren. The “Girl Friday” gazed up at her with those soft puppy dog eyes.
Looking over the girls shoulder she was surprised to see, not rows of figures on a spread sheet but the picture of a large rotund, bald headed African in a flowing native gown, but with the purple bib and white dog collar of a bishop.
“That’s Bishop Kafue...his is wonderful...full of the holy spirit...He has been working miracles...I mean literally miracles...he’s bring hope to thousands...a great man” Lauren yawned “You know poor man was in the news a year ago ...His wife was killed trying to stop some Ivory poachers...”
She got no further as Ashwell came storming back “What not done those figures...you lazy good for nothing slut...reading that silly book of yours...”
Ashwell snatched a small black bible from the desk and tore it in two scattering the delicate pages over the floor and steeping on them. She then slapped Lauren across the face. “Figures NOW!” she snarled and stomped off.
Claire saw tears roll down Laurens face as she bent to pick up the pages “It...it was my fathers...” she whimpered “Why...why that evil woman” she stopped and shook her head “No must not think like that...the Lord loves her”
“Then he is the only one that does” Claire thought as knelling she helped the girl collect the pages
“You’re so...so kind...really kind” Laurens soft eyes seemed to fill Claire’s vision “...the thing is” She brushed away a tear “I had done the figures and re-checked them long ago. She yawned again
“There...there my poor girl. Just drink your smoothie and get your head down for a while” Claire cooed softly stroking the girls hair...
Then hardening her heart as she headed forward.
The two Podimore girls were disporting themselves with the two blond executives.
“Oh Jackie!” One of the twins purred as she unbuttoned the woman's top “Oh Jackie...Do I have a little surprise for you?”
“Good I love surprises” the woman replied a big smile on attractive face.
“OMG...OMG!...OMG!!...Yes...yes” Lirah yelled out. Her cry softened to a sexy satisfied sigh as the other twin, having slid the executives trousers and panties to the floor, demonstrated the use of a king size Mars bar a la mode.
The executive, sighed again, as she closed her shapely thighs, in their tan nylon stockings, around Francesca's ears.
It made Claire wonder "How is Marianne Faithful these days"
Barbara was sat legs akimbo, her skirt around her waist revealing the tops of her stockings and her suspenders as well as a floral panty. In one hand she held a large drink, with the other she was engaged in a little “self pleasuring” as she surveyed the scene.
Also surveying the scene, in the same way as a Sea Eagle surveys a fish farm, stood Ms Sophie Ashwell.
Claire moved to pass well away from her, but Sophie’s hand clamped on her wrist. “On your knees Slut” Sophie said without a trace of passion. With her free hand she raised her skirt “Lets see you earn your money...if your good I’ll find you a job when Broke Airways is no more...I know several women who will pay good money for a pretty doxie like you”
As Claire was forced to play along, she slid her hand in her skirt pocket and slid the small silenced pistol out and tucked it behind a seat cushion.
Ten minutes later as Ashwell sat back purring softly, Claire managed to extricate her head from the woman's thighs and come up for air.
The two blonds sat relaxed, most of the uniforms in two neat piles, bra straps down around their elbows, knickers around their ankles.
The Podimore sisters stood behind them softly massaging the handsome women's shoulders and necks.
Ashwell sat licking her lips skirt and silk half slip up around her waist, tights and silken knickers around her ankles; blouse draped over the seat that contained her uniform jacket and the concealed pistol.
Emily sauntered back from the flight deck, dressed only in her "borrowed" red thong and with her pilot's hat at a rakish angle and, Oh yes...and a leather-riding crop in one hand.
"Is it time Claire" Emily questioned with and evil look on her face.
"What the...F*ck!" Ashwell gazed at her
"Yes dear Emily...I do think its time we swapped placed with our nasty little friends here..." Claire stood up and turned to the twins "Ok with you girls"
Instantly the massaging ceased and the hands that had been so soft...so gentle, turned into a steel like grip on the necks pressure points.
The executives gasped and yelped in pain, they squirmed and tried to rise, but the bra straps somewhat restricted their arm movements and their knickers caught around their ankles. In a moment they slumped in an attractive heap on the cabin floor and lay unconscious.
Ashwell’s mouth opened in horror only to be closed by a back-handed blow from Claire that sent the woman to join her two friends in “Sleepy-Ville”.
Barbara staggered to her stocked feet and lunged at Emily. The agent swung around and punched her would-be assailant in the middle of her panty-girdle. The Bankers face turned slightly green and the air left her body. She stood doubled up Emily grabbed her hair and pulled her head to one side.
“Drop your panties now, or I’ll drop you permanently fatso!”
Whimpering the woman wriggled the constraining garment down till it dropped around her ankles.
“Stockings too!” Emily demanded
“Oooccchhh” Barbara yelped as the riding crop impacted across her buttocks.
Francesca snatched the stockings from the floor and bounded the sobbing exec’s wrists behind her back.
“Please...don’t...hurt me I have a family...you can’t do this to us...we have rights...we have...nnnooooooo uuummmmppphhhh....” Her protests became a stifled gurgle, as Francesca number two; forced the warm moist panty into its owners mouth and tied the other stocking as a cleave.
“Thanks Sis...you always get one who wants to make a song and dance about it”
Francesca said giving her sister a long lingering kiss on the lips
Emily, shoved Barbara towards the toilet spurring the bankers movements with swifts strokes from the riding crop. Once inside she raised the seat and turning the petrified woman around thrust her backwards and downwards on to the bowl.
Reaching behind the woman Emily pressed the flush. Instantly the vacuum created firmly, and rather painfully sealed the bankers posterior to the bowl.
Leaving the woman futility kicking, and "uuummmpphhing" Emily helped Claire in separating sleeping Ms Ashwell from her uniform skirt and slip.
At one point Claire broke off and stepped around the cabin bulkhead and gazed back.
But despite the commotion Lauren was sleeping soundly just as Claire had left her.
The twins had opened a locker containing four pairs of long legged panty-girdles and a large tin of XXX itching powder and appeared anxious to try the combo out on the captives.
“Best strip first girls...give us some more freedom of movement” Claire giggled slipping out of the stewardess’s clothing.
For a while none of the four gave the apparently drugged “Girl Friday” gently snooring at the rear...a slip they came to regret .
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Soon the three bank executives lay relaxing in their birthday suits in an intimate, if rather crumpled pile on the floor. Emily then walked over to the toilet and blowing its squirming occupant a kiss slammed the door shut.
"Let’s awaken our first sleeping beauty shall we?"
One by one, the woman were roughly awakened and forced to wriggle into the constraining white panty-girdles...encouraged in their efforts by Emily's, rather more than occasional, use of the riding crop.
Once the two blonds had their arms firmly affixed behind their backs, they sat looking very worried. However, Sophie just sat glowering at her captors...when that is she was not cursing them or issuing demands.
Even when the Podimore sisters started pouring the strong itching powder into the tight crotch of her undergarment, Ashwell maintained a sullen refusal to answer any questions.
Luckily, the same could not be said of her two colleagues who rolled around the cabin floor whimpering and pleading for Claire to stop the infernal itching in their nether regions.
Not surprisingly these two executives, defying even the threats spewing from Ashwell... were most co-operative.
Unfortunately, for them, once they had divulged all the information Claire required. They were simply gagged with the panties and tights from the majorettes’ uniform and slid still squirming and simpering towards the hold to join the two Scandinavian bodyguards.
Barbara proved to be almost too easy and once ungagged they could hardly stop the woman from talking...most of which was pleading or superfluous detail...But she did surrender her passwords.
“Please let me go I have a family...I have done nothing wrong”
“Oh No?” Emily hissed in her ear “Remember a company called “Karen’s’ Knickers”...remember how you personally closed it down...then sold of the assets and the designs to your buddies in that Far Eastern clothes company...What was it now...two hundred people lost their jobs and Karen hung herself...still you made a nice little bonus...didn’t you Barbara dearest...Hmmm!. Bet you did not think you’d ever have to answer to Karen’s daughter did you!”
Emily pushed the riding crop hard to the bankers throat “And another thing my father then sold everything he had to help out some of the workers and finally drank him self to death...Can you imagine how I felt...watching my dad dying slowly...Well I doubt if you have any imagination in your body...So I tell you my dad’s death was slow...But yours is going to be pretty quick...once we are over Spain the girls and I have bailing out...all of you all nicely trust up and gagged will fly on...well fly on till the fuel runs out...somewhere in Mid-Atlantic...Chew on that and while you do chew on these” Emily thrust the panties back into the horrified bankers open mouth.
The two blonds, who were not yet stuffed in the hold panicked and it took all the twins “persuasion” to force them down, followed by an ashen whimpering Barbara.
“It would have been easier to control them had you not said that” Claire snapped grabbing Emily by the arm
Ashwell laughed at them “Don’t tell me that you thieves are already falling out?”
“Don’t make us mad” Francesca turned as she forced the head of one of the bankers down into the hold.
“Why...what are you going to do...kill me...you already planned that...not that you’ll do that to me...Because I can buy anyone of you...Name your price for a parachute five...ten...Fifteen Million...All any one of you has to do is kill the other three and no need to worry...you see I am well connected friends...very powerful friends in all the right places...name your price ladies”
“Hold her Francesca” Francesca said reaching for the last of the itching powder “Let’s see if she’ll be laughing when she’s really itching in her crotch area”
At first Ashwell struggled, as the waistband of the girdle was pulled wide. Then she laughed “Good Girl...knew I could count on you good girl”
The women turned and Claire found herself looking down the business end of a silencer, attached to a small pistol...Her pistol and holding the weapon rock steady with two hands stood Lauren.
Ayoka sat smoking by the side of the hanger while she waited for the other five woman that made up that days work force of “AirClean...Number One Company (Nairobi) Limited” they would need to be ready in half and hour.
Although few planes were booked into Wilson Airport that morning Ayoka was a stickler for form...If the rules said you had to be at work on time on time they would be...She would make sure of that.
She needed the job...so despite only being twenty herself she rode the team hard and they respected her for it. Be they, little flighty eighteen year old Kabibe, the baby of the group, to Zalika who at thirty-five was the oldest and claimed descent from Maasai warriors, they all did as Ayoka bid then do.
Even down to wearing the regulation uniform of blue button through overall, white underwear:- slips, tights, bras and panties at all times regardless of the heat...Ayoka would not let standards go...she looked at her watch then she saw the company van. It pulled into the hanger behind her...No one got out.
Puzzled Ayoka walked towards the van...
Just then, Kabibe came speeding on her bike...“Sorry Ayoka...nearly late...most sorry.”
The two women chatted as the stepped into the hanger.
Hands clamped over their mouths and pistols rammed into their backs. They were marched forward to the rear of the van.
“Strip” a woman’s voice in native Ki Swahili ordered from the darkness... “Your overalls, slips and tights...hurry up”
Scared the two shook off their clothing as quickly as their trembling hands could manage.
Ayoka hopped around getting her legs out of her tights...while Kabibe you had been wearing hold up thigh highs...(in total disregard of regulations Ayoka noted)...was now being gagged with tape and trust up with white nylon rope...Once Ayoka was similarly secured the rear doors of the van were flung open.
Ayoka gasped as, on the floor in the darkness, lay whimpering and wriggling in white bras and panties; tape gagged and bound hand, foot and crotch, lay all the other members of AirClean...Number One Company (Nairobi) Limited.
Both women were picked up bodily and thrown in. White rope was pulled around their waists then pushed between their legs and yanked tight Kabibe sobbed as the roped bit in.
Finally their bound wrists were secured to the loose end of the rope. They were then pushed on top of their colleagues and told to lay still.
Just as the doors closed and the engine started Ayoka heard the woman command her female accomplices’ to
“Drive them out somewhere and secure them to some trees where they will not be found and get the van back here before ten o’clock”.
Ayoka also noted that six other muscular native women in white bras and panties were already dressing themselves in the tights, slips and overalls that so recently had adorned the bodies of the girls of AirClean...Number One Company (Nairobi) Limited.
Re: Claire On a Mission
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Jessica smarting from the chastisement from Ms Bapoto tugged down the hem of her short red skirt over glowing buttocks and adjusted her black stockings. She sat down very gingerly, wiping away a tear and tossed her long blond tresses over her shoulder.
"Don't worry Angel" Hanna whispered from the next workstation "Old Bapoto gets off on giving us white girls a hard time...I think her grandfather was “Mau Mau”” As she spoke she craned her neck around the corner to make sure Bapoto or her boss the equally unloved Manyara were not in listening distance.
“Too true!” Exclaimed Alison, the third girl in the traders office “and its just not those kind of assaults...cant say too much...but just don’t bend over when Manyara is about...her fingers are cold...and don’t what ever you do work late on a Friday night...I did once and the pair of them were here...I didn’t get home until four the next morning and I swear it took me a whole day of brushing to get the last of their pubic hair out of my teeth...”
“You got a raise out of it darling!” Hanna snapped
“Only a small one dear...and well I did have to work hard for it...I mean BOTH of them...come on...I have got standards” The dizzy blond retorted crossing her long legs...the red nylon of her tights crackling with static.
“Ok stop squabbling girls” Ms Green the forty two year old office manager walked into the room “Manyara wants the diamond trading position figures projected for the next six months and a full count of the stock...Hanna you’ll work with me...Jessica and Alison go to the strong room and start weighing and counting...Now please there are some important people coming for a meeting this afternoon” The brunet ordered and walked into her small hot windowless box of an office.
The plane rocked on a sudden in the hot thermals rising from the African desert. The plane rocked but Lauren’s grip never wavered the guns muzzle remained point straight a Claire’s heart.
Francesca slowly moved her hand towards a cast off majorette’s boot where she knew the handle of her Fairbairn-Sykes knife awaited her touch.
“Please Miss don’t move again” Lauren’s voice was soft to the point of being inaudible.
Francesca froze and looked to her twin, who just gave a faint shrug.
“What are you waiting for...you stupid Bitc*...kill them...they were going to kill me...”
“Kill US...” Lauren corrected “I presume I am also included in you little air disaster scenario?”
“I am afraid so Lauren...Department Regs. you see the fewer witnesses the better”
Claire gazed into the girls eyes and found no trace of emotion there.
“May I ask why?” The girl flicked her head to one side like a Robin weighing up a juicy worm
“Your bank and in particular your boss here has been funding insurrection and ethnic conflict both in Africa and South America...A nice little earner I guess...Charge one murderous little Hitler an exorbitant interest on the loan to buy weapons...so much so that he then bankrupts his country to repay it...then the bank does the same for the next “Freedom Fighter” who comes along to over throw the first guy...repeat ad nauseam”
“You have to admit it is a good scheme...the banks shareholders love the dividends” Ashwell smirked
“Yes but you couldn’t stop there could you. You had to try and spread your tentacles over to the USA and now into Britain”
“If the price is right we...”Ashwell started
“Shut up” Laurens voice now quivered with emotion
“So” she returned Claire’s gaze “So it’s alright if the Wogs’ and the Spics’ kill each other; but when it comes home to roost the powers that be...I take it you work for a government agency?” She continued before Claire could decide what to say, “Think enough is enough and arrange a little accident”
“Not quite...”Emily butted in “We are going to impersonate your darling Sophie there and the two blond bimbo’s in the hold and get the low down on the African end of things...heard of “Blood Diamonds””
Lauren shivered...for just a second she closed her eyes.
“As a C hristian” she turned to Sophie “I cannot kill...I would kill to protect an innocent person...but I am so...so sorry Sophie...you have had your last chance...years I have prayed for you and you have not changed...you’ll never change will you”
Turning from the stunned executive Lauren spoke “Claire...if that is your name...I take it this gun is yours?”
“Yes and Yes” Claire replied rather bemused
“Being a Ch ristian I cannot steal so...” The soft click made everyone in the cabin jump as Lauren’s thumb flicked the safety to on and grabbing the silencer she swung the pistol and presented it to Claire...
“You...you fool now we will all die” Sophie screeched hysterically until Francesca’s elbow smashed her between the eyes and she hit the carpet.
Gazing as the comatose banker Claire muttered, “Now we have to wait even longer to make her give up the passwords”
“Actually she does not know them” Lauren smiled softly “Oh she did once...but now she relies on me to feed that sort of information to her...they are on my lap top...shall we...”
Claire followed the girl... “Why did you surrender...you know we have to...”
“Take no prisoners...”Lauren completed the sentence “Well at the risk of repeating myself...As a Chri stian I know that death is not the end and for my short comings and for my part in the banks bloody little scam...I am willing to make amends...There that’s all you need” she pointed at the screen “Anything further please ask”
Zola watched and licked her lips as she gazed on the group of blond athletes.
The Russian girls had just got of the overnight “Express” and stood tired and subdued in the shade of the platform canopy. For although Mombasa was on the coast, just inland it was already 30 in the shade.
Zola checked her watch then slowly and elegantly got up and padded over to the parking area where the air-conditioned tourist busses pulled in.
A large coach ground to a halt in a cloud of dust and a handsome Kenyan girl got out and dusted off her uniform with her baseball cap.
“Say what’s the problem with the rear tyre Miss” Zola called out and with a beaming smile walked over.
The you driver was non-plus “Problem...I have no problem”
Zola shrugged “Guess the smoke must have been dust then” she turned to go
“Wait show me...I have important clients to day”
Zola beckoned her around the back out of sight “There look...”
The driver knelt down “I see nothing...I smell UUughhhhh...aaaggggg uummmppp”
she clutched at the arm around her neck as Zola applied an iron like sleeper hold.
The poor girl’s polished boots scuffed the gravel, her eyes wide in terror...Then slowly they started to flicker her struggles eased and then ceased.
Zola dropped the driver and hurriedly grabbed the keys and unlocked the massive doors to the luggage compartment...she slid in, turned and grabbed the driver and pulled her inside.
Twenty sweaty minutes later Zola emerged from the hatch, fully dressed in the driver’s jacket, shoes and slacks.
While the real driver still “slumbering” hog-tied with flex and gagged with Zola’s panties and duct tape; she lay in just her blue bra and white panties, expertly concealed in the hot compartment.
Zola pushed a trolley towards the unsuspecting and scantily clad eighteen year olds.
She felt no pity at the fate that would await them...She did not see them as poor girls loved by their families...all she saw was diamonds...she could sell them for diamonds...with diamonds she could get weapons and with weapons came power and wealth.
Grinning broadly and in perfect English she called out “Girls...Girls...come please...lovely coach all nice and cool I will transport you good” she rubbed her hands together like a later day Fagin as the first mini-skirted lovely lifted her luggage on to the trolley.
Re: Claire On a Mission
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by Dave Dorc
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Claire ruffled her blond hair and checked her lips gloss in the full length mirror. She turned and admired her trim figure set off to perfection in her newly acquired Broke Airways cabin crew uniform, of comfortable flat shoes, nearly black tights, dark blue skirt, black leather belt, white blouse (that was just thin enough to give a hint of the white lace bra beneath). From behind her came the sound of rustling of nylon and faint whimpering
“Uuuuummmmpphhhh......hhhhhhhppllllllmmmmmpphhh”
Claire smile broaden as she bent and picked up the uniform jacket and pillbox hat from the chair.
“Shush darling, best if you just lay still and conserve your energy” Claire purred “Your going to need it ‘cos no one will even begin to look for you for at least three days...Then of course they’ll have to locate the tree to which you are secured...”
As the whimpering gave way to muffled sobs, Claire grabbed the flight bag and blowing the naked wriggling woman a kiss she walked out of the caravan.
“Paula” she addressed her butch accomplice “Make sure that Miss Air Stewardess 1990 in there is tied to a particularly rough tree, in a very...very deserted spot, the ***** laddered my best tights with all her struggles...still I hope she enjoys the taste of them” She giggled again and giving Paula an affectionate pat on her Desiree Claire got into the car and drove off
Later that evening WPC McGuire was checking the credentials of the aircrew before they entered the secure area. She yawned it had been a long boring shift and she was beginning to dream of a hot steaming bubble bath, a bottle of ice cold wine and even the likelihood that the pretty little black student in the next door flat could be “persuaded” to join her.
“Excuse me Officer, I am so sorry to trouble you but I have to make a confession...”
The soft words snapped the WPC back to reality. She gazed up at the tail blond Cabin Stewardess who stood close to her a beautiful wide “come to bed with me” smile on her face.
“I would appear to have lost my identity badge...” she rather fetchingly bit her bottom lip in a “little girl lost” sort of way.
“Feck” thought McGuire as she considered the mountain of paper work involved in recording the loss.
“I am sure I had it in the “Ladies” back in terminal 7, but it’s all closed up now and I am scared of the dark”
The WPC groaned and was minded to reprimand the woman severely...
“I am so...so sorry officer...I am a naughty girl and deserve to be spanked severely...” She smiled at the WPC with her big baby blue eyes.
McGuire smiled back at the woman as she mulled the over the thought of taking a carpet slipper to the taught panty clad backside of the Stewardess “Well I better come and help you find it”
They talked and laughed as they walked down dimly light corridors, through security doors and into the echoing terminal.
“In here I think” the blond pushed over the toilet door and stood aside to let the WPC enter before her.
The toilet was small only five cubicles and a janitor’s cupboard, thus it was fairly easy for McGuire to find the badge, it was face down on the floor at the far end of the room by the cupboard by a black fight bag
They moved quickly to it and with the woman behind her, McGuire picked it up.
“Why thank you officer...you have been so helpful”
“Hang on Miss” McGuire said puzzled as she looked at the picture on the badge, it was definitely NOT the smiling woman behind her “This is not yours”
“Yes I know...a small detail but with big...big consequences...for you!” Claire hissed as her left hand clamped air tight over the nose and mouth of the goggle- eyed WPC while her right arm pinioned the surprised woman’s arms helplessly to her uniformed body.
“No stop that struggling you cannot escape and your only making it worse for yourself”
With her legs kicked out from under her McGuire could not get a purchase to fight back effectively, her bucking and helpless mewing only served to use up her oxygen quicker. Try as she might she could not free herself from the vicelike grip of her assailant. Her hat worked over her face, her body forced forward into a bow shape.
In less than four minutes and it was all over. Ten more minutes later and the naked form of WPC McGuire was secured and stowed in the cubical, while her uniform, plan white bra, panties and woollen socks were packed into the flight bag.
“So sorry darling!...pleasant dreams yeah”
Claire closed the cubical and after leaving the “Toilets Closed for Cleaning” sign on the outer door and the crisp sound of her foot falls faded into the semi-darkness.
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A woman clutching a black flight bag slowly walked towards the Broke Airways offices. The string of overhead yellow sodium lights that illuminated her path danced in the vigorous cold northerly wind, their reflections dancing in the puddles.
Out of the blackness a blond stewardess walked towards her. The shapely woman seemed engrossed with her mobile phone, so did not appear to see the woman until she walked right into her. Both women dropped the bags that they were carrying. The Stewardess loudly and profusely apologised and retrieving a flight bag sauntered off into the darkness.
The woman continued her stroll until she reached a small group of disused Portacabins beside the car park. A swift look around to check the coast was clear, thirty seconds to work the lock and she was safe inside the shabby, musty smelling office. A cracked frosted glass window pane, provided the only light. But she did not need any more.
The woman walked into a small room which contained two small tables and other three walls had filing racking from floor to ceiling, containing dusty paper files, plus some collections of pens, pencils and long rulers.
"Guess that will help with sound suppression" She whispered softly to herself.
Placing the bag on one of the tables she unzipped it. A big smile came to her face for it was not her bag. Inside, rather crumpled was a policewoman's uniform complete with hat and underwear.
The woman kicked off her trainers, pulled off her thick thigh length knitted top and rolled off her grey leggings. As she was already wearing white cotton panties she decided not to bother with the cops cotton "high-cuts" these were shoved back in the bag for future use. Finally, setting the cops hat a jaunty angle she exited the Portacabin and walked to car park gate the light rain brushing her face like Champaign bubbles.
A cars headlights flicked off and a few second later a tall woman of athletic build, wearing a Broke Airways pilots uniform walked towards the gate.
“Excuse me Miss” The fake WPC said in an authoritarian tone, just as the pilot stepped through the gate “May I see your identity”
“Oh! gosh officer you made me jump” The woman was in her mid-thirties with short black hair and an skin tone that hinted of a Mediterranean ancestry.
"This darn rain" The fake WPC smiled "Your nice uniform is getting all wet...shall we just pop into the dry and we can discuss things" Her hand flicked out to indicate the general direction the pilot should take towards the Portacabin...and she obeyed.
"Its rather dark in here" The pilot said with a note of trepidation in her voice as she crossed the thresh hold of the dingy office.
"Don't worry my dear" The fake WPC closed and locked the door behind her "After all it would be a very...very silly person who would tangle with me...Now let me have your identity papers, then we'll see about that uniform of yours.
If one had been an innocent rabbit, that happened to have been passing, your very sensitive hearing may have detected the following noises "What my clothes are you Mad!!!"....a series of crashes...the dull thud of blows being struck with associated yelps of pain...the whack of a large paper file as it hit a head clad in a reinforced cops hat...feet running...a door being thrown open...a "OH No you don't... back in you come!"...more blows and then whimpers...."Please...please don't hit me again...you can have my uniform...just leave me my undies...then after a short while "No...please not with them"..sobbing and then..."Stuff your own mouth with them or I'll rip your arm off and beat you to death with the sticky end" The sobs flowed and subsided with a muffled...UUUmmmmmppphhhh.
Ten minutes later a woman in a pilots uniform emerged and stood brushing down her skirt. Turning she surveyed the seen. The pilot was face down on the small table, her top half protruded over the edge, her small breasts dangling. From those breasts down to her trim waist she was encased in duct tape, like a mummy. Her arms that had previously been folded and taped behind her were also included in the wrap. Her kneels had been spread wide and taped to the top of the table. Her ankles silently kicked the air, as if practising a swimming stroke.
"But it would be a long time before you'll be able to put that to use again" The fake pilot smiled to her self as she looked into the tear stained face of her victim. The woman gazed back a hopeless silent plea for mercy. Her mouth bulging with a good sound deadening stuffing taped in place.
In the low little levels it was impossible for the fake pilot to see the full extent of the "Glow" she had created on the derriere of the wriggling pilot, but with two broken rulers lying on the floor she guessed that the next time the pilot was asked for her clothes the compliance would be instantaneous.
"Bye Honey...hope you enjoy the room as you'll be her for some days" The fake Pilot grind "And by the way..." she turned and hitched up the uniform skirt and white silk slip...."Are my seams straight?"
A muffled wail and sobs was all the response she got. so grabbing the now empty flight bag she locked the office door and exited and secured the Portacabin.
As she passed a glass door in the office block she stopped to adjust her newly acquired black lace suspenders, a gust of wind flipped up her skirt and slip revealing a red lacy thong....much to the delight of a group of baggage handlers as the changed shift.
"You took your time" Claire hissed as they walked up the corridor. "There has been a complication...The targets have not only brought along some poor "Girl Friday" for the meeting but have arranged a little "In Flight Entertainment" in the shape of a couple of high class slu*s...Look!"
She pushed open the door to the executive jet green room. The lounging by the bar stood two women, blonds in their late teens early twenties, drinking Port and Lemon and dressed in majorettes uniforms.
"Apparently Ms Sophie Ashwell has a little kink for those type of uniforms" Claire growled.
"Don't we all darling...dont we all darling...dont we..." Mussed the pilot licking her lips
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Both agents turned to one another and said in unison "The Podimore girls"
Stepping out into a quite area Claire made the call.
Francesca dropped silently from the bedroom window on the manicured grass and standing in her "baby doll" nightie she shivered in the cold rain "Why aren't we ever called out on a warm summers day" she mussed aloud.
"Cos we get paid extra Sis." Her identical twin whispered as she joined her "However, since dear Mummy and Daddy have taken to locking our clothes away at night to stop our little "Trips" guess its time for the agency to up our rates...Come on lets get some gear and some wheels"
Silently the two identically dress 18 year olds padded into the night. Once out of the posh estate they took to the roof tops of the city. Free-running they made the night club district in ten minutes. They stopped, panting only slightly, on a flat low roof over looking the car park of the Coco Cabana night club. a classy joint were your feet stuck to the floor tiles and the saw dust on the floor was last nights furniture and all the drinks came in mucky glasses.
It was cold but they did not have long to wait.
A group of eight women burst out of the club door, one ran to a car keys in hand. Another ran after her and pulled her out of the vehicle before she could drive off. “Come here you tart...try to get off with me Darren would you slag” A fight developed the others crowded round the struggling women as hair was pulled, skimpy dresses were torn and punches thrown.
Francesca looked at her sister “At least four good matches I think...shall we?”
Her twin smiled “Why not”
They dropped silently behind the group “Mind if we join in ladies...”
The noise from the night club masked most of the screams of pain and the cries futile cries for mercy.
The girls propped the selected women, against the car and stripped them naked. The leopard/tiger print underwear they decided was not for them, so they used the thongs and bras as mouth packing. Then let the four side to the floor, while the girls tried on the leggings, tights and micro skirts and tops. Having decided on their new apparel, they tore the rest up and used the strips to bind the women hand and foot before adding a tight cleave gag to ensure there could be no "tonguing out" off the soft, sweaty, silencing, stuffing.
Once done and to ensure their could be no claims of favouritism, by any of the slags’ they decided to strip and secure them in a similar fashion. But keeping back the four thongs this time they used so leggings and tights as gags. One at a time the women had to be then dragged into a dark alley and hoisted up on to the lip of a particularly smell dumpster. Till the dumpster was lined with some pert and some not so pert backsides. Grabbed the bound ankles they flipped the women inside and slammed the lid shut. Both giggling girls agreed that the rattle of a nearby large air-conditioning plant would effectively mask any muffled cries for help.
The drove off towards the airport throwing the emptied purses into a canal as they went.
Back in the Green Room, Claire engaged the two prostitutes in conversation while surreptitiously slipping a little white powder into their drinks. Once the hapless duo seamed suitably woozy. Claire suggested it was time to board the aircraft. “Just need to do certain security procedures and to debrief you first...This way “ladies”” Claire told the slappers in a suitably soothing tone
Two pairs of rather unsteady, if very shapely legs clad in black high gloss PVC thigh boots staggered and swayed as the fresh air hit. The two blond bimbos had to be guided by Claire and “the Pilot” towards a certain Portacabin. On arrival, they found the door was open and the office inside glowed with light. Claire propelled the staggering twosome inside. The who*es gasped when they saw the butt naked woman taped to table and standing by her two very pretty blonds stood studying the “mmmmppphhhhing” whimpering captive.
One of the blonds looked up “Hi there...nice handiwork...Yours Emily?”
The Pilot made a low mock bow.
“Wasss happping?” one of the majorettes slurred out.
“Oh I’m sorry...Did not Claire explain...Well I’m Francesca and this is my sister who is also called Francesca...Say Hi to the nice ladies Francesca”
“Hi Whor*s” Francesca grinned at the bleary eye women “We are going to take your places and then leave you very tightly bound and gagged on this table...Just in your undies to await your fate...strip please” she added with a smile.
The sedated strumpets panicked, one tried throw a punch at one of the Francescas’ and bitterly regretted it as she slumped to the floor clutching her stomach in agony. The other tried to run but Francesca’s foot tripped her up. The young tart fell face down, her long painted fingernails just reaching the doorway. Francesca bent forward and grabbing the booted ankles dragged the struggling girl back into the room.
“Helllpppppp NNoooooo... please mummy....mummy....mummmyyyyy!” the floozy’s screams were cut off as the door was quietly closed and locked.
Fifteen, frantic fighting, minutes later two very sorrowful tarts sat back to back on the other small table. They were just in their lacy underwear of bra and panties. One wh*re wore a bright red set the other green. One girl’s shoulder straps had slid down, so thus the areolas of her surgically enhanced breasts were cresting her cups of her bra, not unlike two suns setting over green hills on a smoggy day. Their arms were wrapped back around each other, with the wrists of one being secured to the crotch rope of the other and vice versa to help discourage any struggling.
Further bonds that had been tied around the trim waists and bouncy breasts pulled both tightly together. Each of the slappers’ knees had been secured to the thin table legs, while the ankles bent back under the table had held there in a ball of duct tape.
Claire had just finished interrogating the pleading women as the two Podimore girls approached. Both were now stark naked and held the balled up tights they had been wearing as well as a selection of thongs...the very underwear they had “liberated” only an hour before. The horrified w*ores could only gaze, and gurgle as the silencing wads were mercilessly thumbed into their mouths. A very generous strip of duct tape was smoothed over the bulging cheeks and red gloss lips. More tape was then worked around and around both heads locking these together, but ruining the victims long blond hair in the process. An act for which Claire did proffered her apologies.
The Podimore girls then slid into the high gloss white uniform tights, over which they pulled on the red uniform panties, donned the short white skirts, trimmed with red piping and red “hussar” type jackets with white collars and cuffs plus plenty of gold braid. They hopped around as they worked their long luscious legs into the thigh boots and finally after placing the white shako hats trimmed with gold on their heads.
They paraded around the small room getting use to their uniforms. Once they even ask the subdued former owner if the uniforms looked “OK?” and if “Do you think these panties are a little tight in the crotch...don’t want any “Camel Toes” do we”. Having then intimately inspected each other’s uniform and dusted each other down, they kissed lightly and holding hands headed for the door, without even a backward glance at the poor squirming women, whose tear filled eyes followed them pleading for some hope.
Claire nodded to Emily, who then from her bag extracted three tampons. These they forced up one nostril of each of their identity donors and tamped it firmly home with a pencil. Claire the clamped the flaying woman’s head as Emily added some drops of chloroform to the absorbent insert. Thus ensuring a long slow release that would in turn ensure that the identity donors would enjoy a long deep restful slumber, before finally awakening to the insuperable problem of how to get free and the realisation that they would probably never be found.
After turning out the light and securing the office and Portacabin for the last time, the four agents made there way to hanger, in which the A318 Elite executive jet of the Broke Airways fleet stood its doors open awaiting the agents and their unsuspecting targets
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Once the aircraft levelled off, Claire made her way forward with a drinks trolley. She hoped that the bottle of Pernod-Ricard Perrier-Jouet, (a snip at a mere $50,000 for a two-bottle pack) had been perfectly chilled, or at least that it was chilled enough to mask to drug that was floating in it.
Ms Ashwell lounged back, she had kicked off her designer shoes and removed her dark blue uniform jacket -for it was the banks policy that all employees wore the company uniform. The short skirt showed off her well-honed legs clad in expensive black tights, as she stretched and slid her feet over the deep pile carpet and luxuriated in the sensation. Four other women sat around, three of whom were in expensive designer versions of the banks garb. Two, both blonds wore in match trouser suits and were, Claire would guess about Ashwell’s age …late thirties, while the third a plump woman (some people would say cuddly) had on a low cut dress with matching fishnets and was older.
However, the forth woman…girl more like Claire thought…had shoulder length black hair, thick glasses wore a baggy thick knitted roll neck top in dark brown; a grey skirt cut below the knees; thick grey tights and sensible black shoes. Thus, it was easy to pick out the “Girl Friday” from the bank executives.
Lauren stood up as Ashwell barked at her to: “Go and get those figures prepped for the Nairobi meeting…and do them properly this time” The poor girl had been the butt of many disparaging remarks from all the others.
Elegant and indeed as beautiful as the bankers may have looked, they were in Claire’s eyes, ugly and evil, money-gouging women who would extract the last once of profit and well if that meant people died it was a case of “Hey Ho…Just doing our Job”
Lauren softly sighed and rolled her eyes as she passed Claire. The plan lurched and Claire instinctively grabbed the staggering girl. Lauren in a soft low voice thanked her and made her way to the rear of the aircraft.
“You!” Barbara the older plump woman snapped her figures at Claire. “Drinks Now!”
“Certainly Ladies” Claire smiled “A big glass for madam...”
“Once you’ve done that get those two young sluts back down here” Diana one of the “suits” demanded.
“No not yet” Ashwell snapped, “We will re-run today's meeting first...I think Lirah” she turned to the other suit “You should have pushed their FD far harder on the interest rates”
“But...But” The young woman stammered, “They would never have gone for it...they can't really afford the rates they signed up to and...”
“Silence Lash” Ashwell hissed “Broke airways is finished anyway...the more they are into us the more we can extract when they go titties up...”
“Sophie...”Barbara quickly broke in nodding towards Claire “She works for them”
“Of course she does...for present” Ashwell chuckled bending forward
Claire gasped as Ashwell’s hand slid up her skirt and stroked her stocking clad thighs
“But being a wise and rather sexy little thing...I am sure she understands which side her bread is buttered.
“Please madam!” Claire turned to the grinning woman “If your hand goes higher my ears will pop!”
As her hand slid, higher Ashwell told Claire to be quite or she would have her two bodyguards travelling with them, to forcibly remove her uniform and she could then serve for the rest of the flight “au-natural“.
Claire could tolerate the indignity of being fondled and discussed by the four women, as if she was just so much meat. However, the sight of the grinning faces of the two Podimore sisters peeking out from behind the forward curtail got her angry. So it was with some pleasure that she saw two pairs of hand clamp over the blonds faces and drag them back behind the curtain...Claire guessed rightly that the two female heavies, spurred on by the sight of two pretty pert posteriors pointing at them and in the knowledge that Ashwell would not require their services just yet, had decided it was time to “warm up” the two majorettes. Claire almost felt sort for them...for the bodyguards what is.
Francesca fumed and an uninvited hand slid into her tights. Her tunic was already undone and her puppies were freely wobbling with the motion of the aircraft. True the woman doing the pawing was not unattractive. She had clear blue eyes, blond hair cut mannishly short, she had a pleasing face atop a nice long swan neck and a reasonable pair of titti*s. In different circumstances, Francesca would have welcomed the attention. Nonetheless, being roughly handled and gagged plus still having one arm painfully locked up behind ones back had removed any attraction that she could feel. Her sister was almost in the same predicament, trapped on the lap of her assailant with her uniform open, she was also gagged with tights.
"Now my little slut" Ulrika purred into Francesca's ear "If I take that gag off you and you be quite I let you lick my c*nt you little tease...ok"
Francesca nodded vigorously...Not that she wanted to give any sort of pleasure to this woman...but it would free her from the heavies grip and give her room to manoeuvre, as she intended to despatch this Norse maiden to Valhalla quickly and silently.
"How is yours Inge?" Ulrika called over to her dark haired compatriot
"The little minx...she comes nicely," the other woman giggled untying the majorettes gag.
The Podimore twins winked at each other as the sank to their knees. They had a routine and knew what to do...
First, they acted all compliant and meek. Amply they fulfilled the two Scandinavian beauties needs. Then the started to take charge...swapping fingers for tongues they purred to the women who's strong hands held the twins heads in place "Oh please let me take off your shoes...you'll be so much more comfortable...Now let me ease your trousers and panties all the way down to your ankles...there that's better...." the twins replaced fingers with tongues. The guardians’ thighs pressing on the ears muffled the gasps and sighs but the Podimore girls knew when a woman was "relaxed" and therefore open to suggestions.
Standing up and shedding the clothing, the twins beckoned the women of to a large settee beside the bar and at the furthest point from the curtained entrance to the executive cabin.
The smiling bodyguards shuffled over, their knickers and trousers still around their ankles. The twins seated them one at either end on the settee. They unbuttoned the first three buttons of each woman blouse and sliding hands inside eased the cups of the sports bras down and gently...oh so gently stroked the exposed n*pples with fingers and the tips of their tongues. The bodyguards signed in unison and probably failed to notice than the majorettes had stopped.
"Shall we Francesca” Francesca spoke softly to her twin
“Why not Francesca” Her twin replied
Both girls bent forward and kissed the mouth of victim then stood up big smiles on their cute innocent faces.
The first blow in each case was a chop across the throat to the vocal cords. Grabbing the shoulders of the blouse each girl pulled the blouse down trapping the gurgling women upper arms. The bodyguards then received a kick in the stomach to expel the air in their lungs.
With one hand, each Podimore twin thrust her victim on to her back and with the other; then grabbed pillows from the overhead locker.
The twins lay face up on top of the gasping women, one hand behind them reaching for the underwear wrapped ankles, to stop the flailing limbs. The twins seated themselves on the chests of the women.
“Lets see how you like it” Francesca whispered as she forced Ulrika’s head between her thighs.
The bodyguard must have decided that she did not like it at all for she put up a fight...an increasingly desperate fight as she found the Francesca was not only much stronger then her but was also vicious.
“Time I guess Francesca”
“Recon. so Sis...mine not got much more fight in her”
The twins relaxed their thighs and their head holds...but before the hapless panic stricken victims could draw breath the twins stuffed the pillows between their milky white thighs and closed those handsome limbs, clamping the bodyguards purple faces into them.
Fifteen minutes later the twins stood nonchalantly naked at the bar downing a orange juice each. The bodyguards outer clothing and pistols in two neat piles.
“You two could give me a hand you know” Emily’s voice came from a hatch way in the cabin floor “These *****es are heavy”
Grinning the twins looked down. The small pressurised hold had been designed to accommodate the pets of the wealthy travellers and Emily was in the process of stuffing the underwear clad form of the two Scandinavians into two wire cages designed for big dogs.
“It would have been easier had you not bound and gagged them first” the sweating pilot called up “Or better still finished them off”
“Oh consider it payback for you just standing there watching us poor innocent girls being mauled by those two” Francesca replied “And as for doing finishing them off...well you know Claire and her orders. Besides it would have been too quick for them...no one make me and gets away with it...”
“Yes but darling girl” Her twin gently chided her “To put extra strong itching powder in your victims undies is really going beyond the pale”
“Well” a sweating Emily emerged and locked the hatch “They won’t be able to scratch much that’s for sure...poor things cramped in those cages with their chins on their knees...I’ll put their clothes in a locker and make up a bed with some pillow so it will look as if they have turned in early”
Re: Claire On a Mission
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One hour later Claire was standing at the rear on the aircraft talking to the “Girl Friday” Lauren.
She had just handed the smiling girl a strawberry smoothie that was anything but innocent. As it contained a powerful knockout drug, an expensive drug at that...Claire could almost hear the agencies accountant groaning in disappear as she read the expenses chitty for the operation...
A quick blow just behind the ear as the girl bent over her laptop would have worked just as well...if much more painfully. However, Claire had come to rather take a shine to young Lauren.
The girl was a committed "Chri stian" who rather misguidedly thought it was her role in life to “turn around” Ms Ashwell and company from their “sinful wicked lives”.
Lauren beamed at Claire as she took the drink “You know...I have been praying for them all for two years and I feel that the good lord is now telling me that on this trip they will finally see the error of their ways and have a life changing experience...Oh thank you so much, I love smoothies and strawberry is my favourite”
“Well” Claire thought as she looked at the girl “They and, I am afraid dear Lauren you also, will experience a dramatic and rather terminal experience”
The unsuspecting girl yawned and took a sip “Oh gosh...that is really nice...Say I really don’t know your name...Please tell I would like to pray for you by name tonight”
“Its Claire” The agent said without thinking and found herself shaking hands with Lauren. The “Girl Friday” gazed up at her with those soft puppy dog eyes.
Looking over the girls shoulder she was surprised to see, not rows of figures on a spread sheet but the picture of a large rotund, bald headed African in a flowing native gown, but with the purple bib and white dog collar of a bishop.
“That’s Bishop Kafue...his is wonderful...full of the holy spirit...He has been working miracles...I mean literally miracles...he’s bring hope to thousands...a great man” Lauren yawned “You know poor man was in the news a year ago ...His wife was killed trying to stop some Ivory poachers...”
She got no further as Ashwell came storming back “What not done those figures...you lazy good for nothing slut...reading that silly book of yours...”
Ashwell snatched a small black bible from the desk and tore it in two scattering the delicate pages over the floor and steeping on them. She then slapped Lauren across the face. “Figures NOW!” she snarled and stomped off.
Claire saw tears roll down Laurens face as she bent to pick up the pages “It...it was my fathers...” she whimpered “Why...why that evil woman” she stopped and shook her head “No must not think like that...the Lord loves her”
“Then he is the only one that does” Claire thought as knelling she helped the girl collect the pages
“You’re so...so kind...really kind” Laurens soft eyes seemed to fill Claire’s vision “...the thing is” She brushed away a tear “I had done the figures and re-checked them long ago. She yawned again
“There...there my poor girl. Just drink your smoothie and get your head down for a while” Claire cooed softly stroking the girls hair...
Then hardening her heart as she headed forward.
The two Podimore girls were disporting themselves with the two blond executives.
“Oh Jackie!” One of the twins purred as she unbuttoned the woman's top “Oh Jackie...Do I have a little surprise for you?”
“Good I love surprises” the woman replied a big smile on attractive face.
“OMG...OMG!...OMG!!...Yes...yes” Lirah yelled out. Her cry softened to a sexy satisfied sigh as the other twin, having slid the executives trousers and panties to the floor, demonstrated the use of a king size Mars bar a la mode.
The executive, sighed again, as she closed her shapely thighs, in their tan nylon stockings, around Francesca's ears.
It made Claire wonder "How is Marianne Faithful these days"
Barbara was sat legs akimbo, her skirt around her waist revealing the tops of her stockings and her suspenders as well as a floral panty. In one hand she held a large drink, with the other she was engaged in a little “self pleasuring” as she surveyed the scene.
Also surveying the scene, in the same way as a Sea Eagle surveys a fish farm, stood Ms Sophie Ashwell.
Claire moved to pass well away from her, but Sophie’s hand clamped on her wrist. “On your knees Slut” Sophie said without a trace of passion. With her free hand she raised her skirt “Lets see you earn your money...if your good I’ll find you a job when Broke Airways is no more...I know several women who will pay good money for a pretty doxie like you”
As Claire was forced to play along, she slid her hand in her skirt pocket and slid the small silenced pistol out and tucked it behind a seat cushion.
Ten minutes later as Ashwell sat back purring softly, Claire managed to extricate her head from the woman's thighs and come up for air.
The two blonds sat relaxed, most of the uniforms in two neat piles, bra straps down around their elbows, knickers around their ankles.
The Podimore sisters stood behind them softly massaging the handsome women's shoulders and necks.
Ashwell sat licking her lips skirt and silk half slip up around her waist, tights and silken knickers around her ankles; blouse draped over the seat that contained her uniform jacket and the concealed pistol.
Emily sauntered back from the flight deck, dressed only in her "borrowed" red thong and with her pilot's hat at a rakish angle and, Oh yes...and a leather-riding crop in one hand.
"Is it time Claire" Emily questioned with and evil look on her face.
"What the...F*ck!" Ashwell gazed at her
"Yes dear Emily...I do think its time we swapped placed with our nasty little friends here..." Claire stood up and turned to the twins "Ok with you girls"
Instantly the massaging ceased and the hands that had been so soft...so gentle, turned into a steel like grip on the necks pressure points.
The executives gasped and yelped in pain, they squirmed and tried to rise, but the bra straps somewhat restricted their arm movements and their knickers caught around their ankles. In a moment they slumped in an attractive heap on the cabin floor and lay unconscious.
Ashwell’s mouth opened in horror only to be closed by a back-handed blow from Claire that sent the woman to join her two friends in “Sleepy-Ville”.
Barbara staggered to her stocked feet and lunged at Emily. The agent swung around and punched her would-be assailant in the middle of her panty-girdle. The Bankers face turned slightly green and the air left her body. She stood doubled up Emily grabbed her hair and pulled her head to one side.
“Drop your panties now, or I’ll drop you permanently fatso!”
Whimpering the woman wriggled the constraining garment down till it dropped around her ankles.
“Stockings too!” Emily demanded
“Oooccchhh” Barbara yelped as the riding crop impacted across her buttocks.
Francesca snatched the stockings from the floor and bounded the sobbing exec’s wrists behind her back.
“Please...don’t...hurt me I have a family...you can’t do this to us...we have rights...we have...nnnooooooo uuummmmppphhhh....” Her protests became a stifled gurgle, as Francesca number two; forced the warm moist panty into its owners mouth and tied the other stocking as a cleave.
“Thanks Sis...you always get one who wants to make a song and dance about it”
Francesca said giving her sister a long lingering kiss on the lips
Emily, shoved Barbara towards the toilet spurring the bankers movements with swifts strokes from the riding crop. Once inside she raised the seat and turning the petrified woman around thrust her backwards and downwards on to the bowl.
Reaching behind the woman Emily pressed the flush. Instantly the vacuum created firmly, and rather painfully sealed the bankers posterior to the bowl.
Leaving the woman futility kicking, and "uuummmpphhing" Emily helped Claire in separating sleeping Ms Ashwell from her uniform skirt and slip.
At one point Claire broke off and stepped around the cabin bulkhead and gazed back.
But despite the commotion Lauren was sleeping soundly just as Claire had left her.
The twins had opened a locker containing four pairs of long legged panty-girdles and a large tin of XXX itching powder and appeared anxious to try the combo out on the captives.
“Best strip first girls...give us some more freedom of movement” Claire giggled slipping out of the stewardess’s clothing.
For a while none of the four gave the apparently drugged “Girl Friday” gently snooring at the rear...a slip they came to regret .
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Soon the three bank executives lay relaxing in their birthday suits in an intimate, if rather crumpled pile on the floor. Emily then walked over to the toilet and blowing its squirming occupant a kiss slammed the door shut.
"Let’s awaken our first sleeping beauty shall we?"
One by one, the woman were roughly awakened and forced to wriggle into the constraining white panty-girdles...encouraged in their efforts by Emily's, rather more than occasional, use of the riding crop.
Once the two blonds had their arms firmly affixed behind their backs, they sat looking very worried. However, Sophie just sat glowering at her captors...when that is she was not cursing them or issuing demands.
Even when the Podimore sisters started pouring the strong itching powder into the tight crotch of her undergarment, Ashwell maintained a sullen refusal to answer any questions.
Luckily, the same could not be said of her two colleagues who rolled around the cabin floor whimpering and pleading for Claire to stop the infernal itching in their nether regions.
Not surprisingly these two executives, defying even the threats spewing from Ashwell... were most co-operative.
Unfortunately, for them, once they had divulged all the information Claire required. They were simply gagged with the panties and tights from the majorettes’ uniform and slid still squirming and simpering towards the hold to join the two Scandinavian bodyguards.
Barbara proved to be almost too easy and once ungagged they could hardly stop the woman from talking...most of which was pleading or superfluous detail...But she did surrender her passwords.
“Please let me go I have a family...I have done nothing wrong”
“Oh No?” Emily hissed in her ear “Remember a company called “Karen’s’ Knickers”...remember how you personally closed it down...then sold of the assets and the designs to your buddies in that Far Eastern clothes company...What was it now...two hundred people lost their jobs and Karen hung herself...still you made a nice little bonus...didn’t you Barbara dearest...Hmmm!. Bet you did not think you’d ever have to answer to Karen’s daughter did you!”
Emily pushed the riding crop hard to the bankers throat “And another thing my father then sold everything he had to help out some of the workers and finally drank him self to death...Can you imagine how I felt...watching my dad dying slowly...Well I doubt if you have any imagination in your body...So I tell you my dad’s death was slow...But yours is going to be pretty quick...once we are over Spain the girls and I have bailing out...all of you all nicely trust up and gagged will fly on...well fly on till the fuel runs out...somewhere in Mid-Atlantic...Chew on that and while you do chew on these” Emily thrust the panties back into the horrified bankers open mouth.
The two blonds, who were not yet stuffed in the hold panicked and it took all the twins “persuasion” to force them down, followed by an ashen whimpering Barbara.
“It would have been easier to control them had you not said that” Claire snapped grabbing Emily by the arm
Ashwell laughed at them “Don’t tell me that you thieves are already falling out?”
“Don’t make us mad” Francesca turned as she forced the head of one of the bankers down into the hold.
“Why...what are you going to do...kill me...you already planned that...not that you’ll do that to me...Because I can buy anyone of you...Name your price for a parachute five...ten...Fifteen Million...All any one of you has to do is kill the other three and no need to worry...you see I am well connected friends...very powerful friends in all the right places...name your price ladies”
“Hold her Francesca” Francesca said reaching for the last of the itching powder “Let’s see if she’ll be laughing when she’s really itching in her crotch area”
At first Ashwell struggled, as the waistband of the girdle was pulled wide. Then she laughed “Good Girl...knew I could count on you good girl”
The women turned and Claire found herself looking down the business end of a silencer, attached to a small pistol...Her pistol and holding the weapon rock steady with two hands stood Lauren.
Ayoka sat smoking by the side of the hanger while she waited for the other five woman that made up that days work force of “AirClean...Number One Company (Nairobi) Limited” they would need to be ready in half and hour.
Although few planes were booked into Wilson Airport that morning Ayoka was a stickler for form...If the rules said you had to be at work on time on time they would be...She would make sure of that.
She needed the job...so despite only being twenty herself she rode the team hard and they respected her for it. Be they, little flighty eighteen year old Kabibe, the baby of the group, to Zalika who at thirty-five was the oldest and claimed descent from Maasai warriors, they all did as Ayoka bid then do.
Even down to wearing the regulation uniform of blue button through overall, white underwear:- slips, tights, bras and panties at all times regardless of the heat...Ayoka would not let standards go...she looked at her watch then she saw the company van. It pulled into the hanger behind her...No one got out.
Puzzled Ayoka walked towards the van...
Just then, Kabibe came speeding on her bike...“Sorry Ayoka...nearly late...most sorry.”
The two women chatted as the stepped into the hanger.
Hands clamped over their mouths and pistols rammed into their backs. They were marched forward to the rear of the van.
“Strip” a woman’s voice in native Ki Swahili ordered from the darkness... “Your overalls, slips and tights...hurry up”
Scared the two shook off their clothing as quickly as their trembling hands could manage.
Ayoka hopped around getting her legs out of her tights...while Kabibe you had been wearing hold up thigh highs...(in total disregard of regulations Ayoka noted)...was now being gagged with tape and trust up with white nylon rope...Once Ayoka was similarly secured the rear doors of the van were flung open.
Ayoka gasped as, on the floor in the darkness, lay whimpering and wriggling in white bras and panties; tape gagged and bound hand, foot and crotch, lay all the other members of AirClean...Number One Company (Nairobi) Limited.
Both women were picked up bodily and thrown in. White rope was pulled around their waists then pushed between their legs and yanked tight Kabibe sobbed as the roped bit in.
Finally their bound wrists were secured to the loose end of the rope. They were then pushed on top of their colleagues and told to lay still.
Just as the doors closed and the engine started Ayoka heard the woman command her female accomplices’ to
“Drive them out somewhere and secure them to some trees where they will not be found and get the van back here before ten o’clock”.
Ayoka also noted that six other muscular native women in white bras and panties were already dressing themselves in the tights, slips and overalls that so recently had adorned the bodies of the girls of AirClean...Number One Company (Nairobi) Limited.
Re: Claire On a Mission
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Jessica smarting from the chastisement from Ms Bapoto tugged down the hem of her short red skirt over glowing buttocks and adjusted her black stockings. She sat down very gingerly, wiping away a tear and tossed her long blond tresses over her shoulder.
"Don't worry Angel" Hanna whispered from the next workstation "Old Bapoto gets off on giving us white girls a hard time...I think her grandfather was “Mau Mau”” As she spoke she craned her neck around the corner to make sure Bapoto or her boss the equally unloved Manyara were not in listening distance.
“Too true!” Exclaimed Alison, the third girl in the traders office “and its just not those kind of assaults...cant say too much...but just don’t bend over when Manyara is about...her fingers are cold...and don’t what ever you do work late on a Friday night...I did once and the pair of them were here...I didn’t get home until four the next morning and I swear it took me a whole day of brushing to get the last of their pubic hair out of my teeth...”
“You got a raise out of it darling!” Hanna snapped
“Only a small one dear...and well I did have to work hard for it...I mean BOTH of them...come on...I have got standards” The dizzy blond retorted crossing her long legs...the red nylon of her tights crackling with static.
“Ok stop squabbling girls” Ms Green the forty two year old office manager walked into the room “Manyara wants the diamond trading position figures projected for the next six months and a full count of the stock...Hanna you’ll work with me...Jessica and Alison go to the strong room and start weighing and counting...Now please there are some important people coming for a meeting this afternoon” The brunet ordered and walked into her small hot windowless box of an office.
The plane rocked on a sudden in the hot thermals rising from the African desert. The plane rocked but Lauren’s grip never wavered the guns muzzle remained point straight a Claire’s heart.
Francesca slowly moved her hand towards a cast off majorette’s boot where she knew the handle of her Fairbairn-Sykes knife awaited her touch.
“Please Miss don’t move again” Lauren’s voice was soft to the point of being inaudible.
Francesca froze and looked to her twin, who just gave a faint shrug.
“What are you waiting for...you stupid Bitc*...kill them...they were going to kill me...”
“Kill US...” Lauren corrected “I presume I am also included in you little air disaster scenario?”
“I am afraid so Lauren...Department Regs. you see the fewer witnesses the better”
Claire gazed into the girls eyes and found no trace of emotion there.
“May I ask why?” The girl flicked her head to one side like a Robin weighing up a juicy worm
“Your bank and in particular your boss here has been funding insurrection and ethnic conflict both in Africa and South America...A nice little earner I guess...Charge one murderous little Hitler an exorbitant interest on the loan to buy weapons...so much so that he then bankrupts his country to repay it...then the bank does the same for the next “Freedom Fighter” who comes along to over throw the first guy...repeat ad nauseam”
“You have to admit it is a good scheme...the banks shareholders love the dividends” Ashwell smirked
“Yes but you couldn’t stop there could you. You had to try and spread your tentacles over to the USA and now into Britain”
“If the price is right we...”Ashwell started
“Shut up” Laurens voice now quivered with emotion
“So” she returned Claire’s gaze “So it’s alright if the Wogs’ and the Spics’ kill each other; but when it comes home to roost the powers that be...I take it you work for a government agency?” She continued before Claire could decide what to say, “Think enough is enough and arrange a little accident”
“Not quite...”Emily butted in “We are going to impersonate your darling Sophie there and the two blond bimbo’s in the hold and get the low down on the African end of things...heard of “Blood Diamonds””
Lauren shivered...for just a second she closed her eyes.
“As a C hristian” she turned to Sophie “I cannot kill...I would kill to protect an innocent person...but I am so...so sorry Sophie...you have had your last chance...years I have prayed for you and you have not changed...you’ll never change will you”
Turning from the stunned executive Lauren spoke “Claire...if that is your name...I take it this gun is yours?”
“Yes and Yes” Claire replied rather bemused
“Being a Ch ristian I cannot steal so...” The soft click made everyone in the cabin jump as Lauren’s thumb flicked the safety to on and grabbing the silencer she swung the pistol and presented it to Claire...
“You...you fool now we will all die” Sophie screeched hysterically until Francesca’s elbow smashed her between the eyes and she hit the carpet.
Gazing as the comatose banker Claire muttered, “Now we have to wait even longer to make her give up the passwords”
“Actually she does not know them” Lauren smiled softly “Oh she did once...but now she relies on me to feed that sort of information to her...they are on my lap top...shall we...”
Claire followed the girl... “Why did you surrender...you know we have to...”
“Take no prisoners...”Lauren completed the sentence “Well at the risk of repeating myself...As a Chri stian I know that death is not the end and for my short comings and for my part in the banks bloody little scam...I am willing to make amends...There that’s all you need” she pointed at the screen “Anything further please ask”
Zola watched and licked her lips as she gazed on the group of blond athletes.
The Russian girls had just got of the overnight “Express” and stood tired and subdued in the shade of the platform canopy. For although Mombasa was on the coast, just inland it was already 30 in the shade.
Zola checked her watch then slowly and elegantly got up and padded over to the parking area where the air-conditioned tourist busses pulled in.
A large coach ground to a halt in a cloud of dust and a handsome Kenyan girl got out and dusted off her uniform with her baseball cap.
“Say what’s the problem with the rear tyre Miss” Zola called out and with a beaming smile walked over.
The you driver was non-plus “Problem...I have no problem”
Zola shrugged “Guess the smoke must have been dust then” she turned to go
“Wait show me...I have important clients to day”
Zola beckoned her around the back out of sight “There look...”
The driver knelt down “I see nothing...I smell UUughhhhh...aaaggggg uummmppp”
she clutched at the arm around her neck as Zola applied an iron like sleeper hold.
The poor girl’s polished boots scuffed the gravel, her eyes wide in terror...Then slowly they started to flicker her struggles eased and then ceased.
Zola dropped the driver and hurriedly grabbed the keys and unlocked the massive doors to the luggage compartment...she slid in, turned and grabbed the driver and pulled her inside.
Twenty sweaty minutes later Zola emerged from the hatch, fully dressed in the driver’s jacket, shoes and slacks.
While the real driver still “slumbering” hog-tied with flex and gagged with Zola’s panties and duct tape; she lay in just her blue bra and white panties, expertly concealed in the hot compartment.
Zola pushed a trolley towards the unsuspecting and scantily clad eighteen year olds.
She felt no pity at the fate that would await them...She did not see them as poor girls loved by their families...all she saw was diamonds...she could sell them for diamonds...with diamonds she could get weapons and with weapons came power and wealth.
Grinning broadly and in perfect English she called out “Girls...Girls...come please...lovely coach all nice and cool I will transport you good” she rubbed her hands together like a later day Fagin as the first mini-skirted lovely lifted her luggage on to the trolley.
Re: Claire On a Mission
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