Sleep Another Day
by Coyote: coyote4531@hotmail.com
James Bond is put to sleep by a long-legged spy.


James Bond awoke between her legs, but not in the accustomed position.

Slowly the haze of unconsciousness dissipated and Bond rose back up to the
waking world, only to find himself clamped between her long, slender legs.

As his eyes stopped swimming and began to focus, he looked up at her pretty
face grinning down at him. His gaze shifted downward to her small, firm
breasts barely concealed by a miniscule black bikini top. He followed her body
downward, over her tight, flat abdomen, then found himself confronted at close
range by a matching black G-string which rode high above her hips.

Weakly, he brought his hands up to rest upon her smooth, shaven thighs.

"I'm sorry, dear," she cooed down at him. "But I'm not quite ready for you to
wake up yet. I was just beginning to enjoy myself."

With that, she contracted her legs hard. Bond's square chin rested on the back
side of her knee; his neck was clamped in the crook of her soft leg in a
classic figure 4 hold. She pulled hard on her foot, tightening her leggy grip.
Bond could feel the taut tendons and muscles which ran along the back of her
leg mercilessly squeezing his carotid arteries, cutting off the blood to his
brain.

"Have you ever been put to sleep by a woman's legs, darling," she teased in a
sultry voice.

Bond tried to protest, but could only gurgle a reply. She grasped her foot and
yanked it hard toward her, sending another pulse of strength into his
unprotected neck. Bond's vision grew cloudy and a thousand points of light
suddenly filled his brain.

Then she laid back, arched her back and tensed her legs, groaning in ecstasy
as she felt her long thighs dig into his neck. She knew he was going out and
was getting off on the realization. Even in his fogged state of awareness,
Bond suddenly understood what motivated her: she was aroused by watching him
sink into unconsciousness beneath her.

She squeezed her legs again; Bond felt a sudden constriction and the image of
her face above him grew fuzzy. Soon her evil smile was just a faded blur as he
slipped into a deep sleep. Bond emitted a long, involuntary sigh as a small
rivulet of drool ran from his parted lips onto the inside of her knee as his
struggles ceased and blackness took him completely.

He dreamed of a tall, slender girl in a micro miniskirt which revealed long,
sensuous legs that seemed to go on forever. A single wink of her eye in the
bar downtown was all it took, and he was following her back to her apartment.

"Wait here while I slip into something more comfortable," she said and Bond
settled back onto the plush white couch, reveling in his good fortune and
anticipating what was to come.

But he hadn't anticipated her real motives as she returned, sauntering toward
him in a tiny black G-string and matching top. He sat there grinning and
gawking at her long, shapely legs, even as one of them suddenly came rocketing
up toward him.

Her swift kick caught him off guard directly under his chin, propelling him
backward into the couch. She launched another kick, again connecting solidly
with his chin. His brain seemed to explode with light while an overpowering
lethargy swept through his body, making it impossible to fight back.

Bond saw the final kick coming and could do nothing to defend himself. She
launched a wide, sweeping roundhouse kick. He felt the shiny leather of her
stiletto high heel smash into the side of his face. His head twisted
violently, then recoiled. The last image he remembered was of her standing
before him with her hands on her hips, toying restlessly with the narrow
strings of her bikini, smiling at her handiwork. His tongue extended hungrily
from his parted lips toward her sculpted thighs, but retracted unrequited as
Bond slipped mercifully into the deepest sleep he had ever known.