Author: agentsandstorm

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Mr Sands pushes me back onto the bed, my hands cuffed together. I fall onto the soft white sheets, totally under his control, unable to free my arms. I try to pull them apart but the chains keep me locked tight.

Lying there in my black lacy underwear, he comes towards me. And the last thing I see is his arms reaching out and wrapping a blindfold tight around my head. All I can do is wait anxiously.

I feel his arms grabbing hold of my hips and I lean back, my brown hair ruffled on the pillow. I yank at the chains again, but it’s no good, I’m at his mercy.

And then I feel my black panties sliding down my hips, my knees and over my ankles, all the way off. I can’t see what’s going on, but I feel vulnerable naked from the waist down. I keep my legs together tight.

But that doesn’t last long. His strong arms prise my legs wide open, exposing my bare flower to him, stretching me apart. I tug at the chains again. Read more »

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My name is Chloe; I’m a 28 year old maitre d’ at a 5* hotel in Paris, making sure guests are taken care of while they dine in our exclusive restaurant looking out at the Eiffel Tower. I work hard, saving my money to travel the world one day, seek adventure.

I meet Mr Sands on a Friday evening. He’s sitting at the best table in the house enjoying a bottle of Bollinger Champagne, gazing out the window. He’s wearing an Armani suit and open white shirt. I can see he’s also wearing an Omega watch, the kind of luxury I dream of.

For exclusive guests like this, I serve the table personally. But that night Mr Sands got far more than table service.

After several glasses of Champagne and caviar starter, he gets a little flirty with me, complimenting my blonde hair and green eyes. He’s incredibly handsome, obviously wealthy, and I can’t resist flirting back. I catch him checking out my bum as I walk away from the table. Tonight I’m wearing a white blouse, tight grey skirt and high heels. By the end of the meal, Mr Sands has charmed me. I agree to meet him for a drink on his balcony later. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t resist the thrill. Read more »

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Maria is staying in the same luxury hotel as me in Turkey. She’s spent the day relaxing and swimming by the pool with a friend. Back home in Argentina she works in a women’s clothing store, selling designer goods to rich tourists. But here she is on summer holiday, soaking up the sun and bathing by the pool in her little blue bikini.

I get chatting to Maria and her friend near the jacuzzi, pretending I’m visiting Turkey for the sun. Really I’m hunting down a ruthless arms dealer, a man MI6 believes is providing weapons to the Russians. But the planned deal isn’t going down till tomorrow, so I’m relaxing in the hotel today.

I order Champagne from the poolside bar at about 7pm and pour a glass for Maria and her friend. We all get a little tipsy, and the friend goes back to their room for a shower; Maria says she’ll be up soon. The few other people around the pool head back to freshen up for the evening. We’re all alone. Read more »

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Catalina is cleaning my hotel room in sunny Spain. She’s wearing a light blue dress and white pumps, typical cleaner attire. When she bends over I can see all the way up her long legs, catching a glimpse of her naughty black panties with red trim.

She’s a shy girl, quietly getting on with her job. But underneath that blue cleaning dress is a hot slender Spanish body. And those black panties she’s wearing suggest a kinky side. I make a move.

Half an hour of friendly chatting and flirting later, and I’ve stripped off her cleaning dress. It lies crumpled on the floor. Catalina leans back anxiously on the bed she’s just made in her black underwear with red frills. She’s worried about getting caught while she’s supposed to be working. She keeps looking at the door, her bare legs crossed. But I reassure her everything’s fine.

Stripping off the white Armani t-shirt I slept in, revealing my taut chest and arms, I move over to the bed in my Calvin Klein briefs. Catalina smiles nervously, her legs still crossed, still anxious about doing this. But she’s checking out my ripped upper body nonetheless as lies back submissively. Read more »

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Katrina lies back in the soft green grass of the Latvian countryside, arms above her head, surrendered. She looks a little anxious, probably about getting caught without her clothes on. She’s a respected hardworking girl, a member of the Latvian tourist board. She’s passionate about her country, and she’s never done anything like this before.

We’re on a private tour of the idyllic lakes and greenery outside Riga, having met at my 5* hotel yesterday when she visited for a rep meeting. I couldn’t take my eyes of her tight slender body under that formal white blouse and black skirt. We chatted in the lobby, flirted a little, and she agreed to take me on a private tour of the Latvian countryside today. I brought a bottle of Champagne along for good measure, which now lies empty in the grass by a little secluded lake, along with Katrina’s work clothes. She’s in my hands now. Read more »