«Kordelia was a secret agent. Her mission that night was to infiltrate the home of an enemy agent disguised as a maid and steal a video tape containing classified information.

She was a blonde woman with long, straight hair that fell over her shoulders like a curtain of pale silk. Her face, with soft features, had full lips now pressed into a line of concentration. Her breasts were very voluminous, so generous that the maid's uniform could barely contain them. Each time she breathed, the fabric of the bodice tightened, marking the curve of her breasts and leaving a deep furrow in the center of her cleavage. Her body was curvaceous, with wide hips and long legs that the black garter stockings accentuated with a soft, tempting sheen.

She wore the classic maid's uniform: a white short-sleeved blouse with a neckline so pronounced that her breasts seemed about to spill over. The fitted black bodice clung to her torso like a second skin, compressing her breasts and pushing them upward until they almost peeked above the fabric. The white apron, immaculate, fell over her hips, and the short, shiny black skirt moved with each step, revealing the curve of her thighs. The black garter stockings adhered to her legs like a constant caress, and the high heels added height and tension to the curve of her calves. A white headband completed the disguise, giving her an innocent air that contrasted with the way her body filled every garment.

I hate this outfit, she thought as she adjusted the bodice. The fabric compressed her breasts, pushing them upward until they almost spilled over the neckline. Each breath made the bodice tighten against her skin, marking the shape of her breasts and leaving little to the imagination. The skirt, too short, moved with each step, revealing the upper part of her thighs, where the black stockings met her bare skin. The stockings, with their soft, shiny texture, clung to her legs like a constant caress, marking every curve of her calves and thighs. It wasn't clothing for a mission; it was clothing to be seen. And that made her feel vulnerable, exposed, aware of every inch of her body.

She walked with firm steps down the hallway, her heels echoing on the wooden floor. The house was large, luxurious, full of dark corners. She found the study, and there, on the table, the tape she was looking for. She took it with agile hands, feeling the weight of the plastic against her fingers. She tried to hide it in the neckline of her blouse, between her breasts, where she knew it would stay hidden. But at that moment, she heard a voice behind her.

There was no time to react. The next thing she knew, she was tied up.

The white ropes wrapped around her body with precision. Her knees were bent and tied against her chest, forming a tight ball. Her wrists were bound behind her back, and a rope connected her neck to the lower part of her knees, keeping her in a *** fetal position. Her ankles, knees, wrists, and torso were wrapped in multiple layers of rope that sank into her skin through the fabric of the uniform. She felt the rope tighten around her breasts, how the pressure on her shoulders and hips immobilized her completely. Each time she tried to move, the ropes dug deeper, leaving red marks on her skin.

The position was uncomfortable, almost unnatural. Her back arched, her buttocks were exposed, and the short skirt had ridden up, revealing the curve of her buttocks covered by the black stockings. She could feel the cold floor against her bare skin, the pressure of the ropes against her breasts, the brush of the stockings against her thighs as she writhed uselessly.

Then, the enemy agent shoved a thick cloth into her mouth. The fabric filled her oral cavity, pushing her tongue back and forcing her lips apart. The taste of cotton mixed with her saliva, and the sensation of having her mouth full was suffocating. Over the cloth, he placed several layers of white adhesive tape, from ear to ear, pressing firmly. The tape was tight and wrinkled, pushing her lips inward and distorting her face. Kordelia felt the constant pressure on her jaw, the difficulty swallowing, the moisture of her own breath trapped beneath the tape. She could only emit muffled sounds—"Mmmphhh!"—that were lost in the silence of the room.

Kordelia was left alone on the floor, tied in a tight ball. Every attempt to move was useless. The ropes kept her still, and the gag reminded her that she couldn't call for help. But her training had prepared her for situations like this. With patience and effort, she managed to loosen one of the ropes holding her legs. She felt the pressure decrease, how her muscles began to relax. Little by little, she managed to stretch enough to reach her phone, which had fallen near her hand.

She dialed her contact's number, but when she tried to speak, only muffled sounds came out. "Mmmphhh! Mmmphhh!"—she couldn't make herself understood. Frustration washed over her as she listened to the voice on the other end of the line, confused, not knowing what was happening. She hung up and decided that her only hope was to free herself.

She continued struggling, twisting her body on the floor. The short skirt rode up completely, exposing her buttocks. The black stockings clung to her large, round buttocks, marking every curve with precision. Beneath the stockings, the outline of white panties could be seen, traditional cut, sinking gently into the curve of her buttocks. Each movement made the skirt ride up higher, exposing her bound and vulnerable rear. The stocking fabric tightened against her skin, and the black garter marked against her hips, a constant reminder of her exposure.

The more she struggled, the more her blouse became disheveled. Without a bra, her large, round breasts were completely exposed. Her pink nipples were turgid, hardened by the cold and humiliation. Her skin looked tense and slightly marked by the pressure of the bodice. Once free, her breasts moved with each attempt to struggle, contrasting sharply with the white tape gag and the rest of the uniform still partially in place. Each movement made her breasts sway, and the brush of the wrinkled blouse fabric against her sensitive nipples was a constant reminder of her vulnerability.

Despite having her hands tied behind her back and the gag still in her mouth, Kordelia managed to stand up. Her legs trembled, and the ropes still limited her movements, but adrenaline drove her forward. With clumsy steps, she reached the front door and opened it with the force of her body, pushing it with her shoulder.

She stepped out into the street, her breasts exposed, her skirt hiked up, the ropes marking her skin, and the white tape sealing her mouth. She ran, not caring about the cold of the night or the stares of the few passersby who saw her. The humiliation was palpable: her maid's uniform, which was supposed to be her disguise, had become the frame of her exposure. Her breasts, which she had tried to hide under the bodice, were now in full view of anyone. Her mouth, which was supposed to give orders, could only emit muffled moans. And her legs, which were supposed to carry her to a safe place, moved clumsily, limited by the ropes that still bound her. But Kordelia knew that the important thing was to survive.»