Chapter 2: Your Body Is a Weapon

Novogorbovo, Russia – June 1985

Valerie was required to stay in her room and recover for five days following her breast augmentation surgery but it wasn’t really bed rest. She was tended to by Anya, who encouraged Valerie to get up and walk around as soon as the most severe pain passed which wasn’t long and she was visited daily by Yuri Godekin who began to put together the missing pieces of the puzzle as to why she was here.

“Can I see?” Yuri asked, blushing a little with embarrassment.

Valerie lifted the satin chemise that she had chosen as bed-wear and showed Yuri her new breasts. The bruising was fading and they were perfectly shaped, smooth and proportionally perfect for her slim frame. They were B-cup sized, with perfectly round pink areolas and little nubbin nipples.

Yuri was impressed and gently touched one, teasing the nipple until it hardened and then he lifted her left breast and saw the fading incision in the crease.

It was Valerie’s turn to blush.

“They did a good job. The surgeon says that scar will be almost invisible,” Yuri commented as he withdrew his hand and Valerie covered her breasts.

“I can’t say that I’m disappointed but I thought I might have been consulted before my body was subjected to surgery,” Valerie said petulantly.

Yuri leaned into her and for a moment Valerie thought that he was going to kiss her and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that but his face stopped inches from hers and his hand snapped up and gripped her throat.

“Don’t think for an instant that you are some sort of a princess in a play. You are an abomination. An abomination that belongs to the Soviet state! You are a tool to be used against the West. Tools can easily be replaced. In fact you are only here because you are a better tool than the one you replaced. The one I personally disposed of,” Yuri said through gritted teeth.

“Do you understand?” Yuri tightened his grip on her neck and his face was so close that his lips were almost touching hers.

Valerie wasn’t choking. Yuri didn’t want to hurt her; just frighten her. But she was shivering with fear and she remembered the threats made to her by Ivan Petrov in his office and she nodded her head in acquiescence.

“There’s a good girl,” Yuri released the grip on her throat and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

He leaned in and softly kissed her cheek.

“You told the psychiatrist that you thought that you should have been born a woman and now you are a lot closer to achieving that goal curtesy of the Soviet Republic. We can’t do anything about your undercarriage yet and to be truthful we don’t intend to. You are perfect just the way you are Valerie,” Yuri said in a soothing tone.

He was speaking English and so was Anya. Valerie had been told to speak English from now on unless she was told otherwise or was addressed by anyone who only spoke Russian. She was to practice her English skills to perfect them.

“I have brought you some files to study while you recover from your surgery. The first one I want you to read is a dossier regarding Professor Mikhail Blavatsky. He is the man that you will be interpreting for,” Yuri pointed to the stack of files he had placed on the coffee table.

“The rest of the files are profiles of Americans who will be attending the Convention,” Yuri sat on the edge of the bed and straightened his jacket.

“What Convention?” Valerie asked and immediately regretted asking a question after the warning Anya had given her.

Yuri smiled at her and to her surprise he answered her question.

“Our new President has new ideas regarding how our glorious Republic should function. He is intent on expanding our diplomatic and economic relations with the west,” Yuri stroked Valerie’s hand as if she was a small child.

“The Soviet Union is sending a delegation to the United States ahead of a proposed agreement between the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics on exchanges in cultural, technical, and educational fields. Professor Mikhail Blavatsky is heading up the academic contingent and you are to be his interpreter,” Yuri patted her hand.

“But despite Mister Gorbachev’s proposed changes to our political outlook, the KGB is still functioning as usual and will always function as the sword and shield of the Communist Party and such an exceptional opportunity as this series of conferences, meetings and social events must be mined for every piece of intelligence that can be garnered,” Yuri squeezed Valerie’s hand.

“There will be others conducting intelligence gathering and exploiting situations presented to them but they are of no significance to you,” he squeezed Valerie’s hand a little harder.

“You will be doing the most important work of all. You will be using your great beauty and, shall we say, unique physiology, to help some of the American delegation look on the USSR more favourably,” Yuri stopped squeezing and patted Valerie’s hand gently.

“I’m to be a whore? To be a honey trap?” Valerie whispered.

“Better you be a whore working for the KGB than your sister Valentina being forced to fuck Spetsnaz soldiers in a military brothel. Remember the promise Ivan Petrov made you. When this is over we may even consider further, shall we say, corrective surgery, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yuri leaned into Valerie once more.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Just study the dosiers for now. The rest will all be explained before you leave,” Yuri smiled at her.

“Even lying here in bed without the aid of makeup you are a beautiful woman Valerie. It would be a shame for such beauty to go to waste,” Yuri leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips.

Valerie was stunned and she tingled all over as Yuri held the kiss for what seemed like an eternity. Then he broke the kiss and smiled at her and stroked her cheek once more.

He alighted from the bed and walked to the door and stopped and turned to Valerie and smiled.

Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and spat on the floor and looked at Valerie with a spiteful sneer and left the room, locking the door behind him.

Valerie silently sobbed for a while and then she regained her composure and got out of bed and reached for the files.

Novogorbovo, Russia – June 1985

Besides working her way through the personnel files, Valerie was educated in other ways. Anya began by giving her makeup and deportment lessons.

“You have reasonably adept makeup skills but your makeup is a little heavy and although suitable for an evening social event, it needs to be toned down for the daytime when you are presenting professionally,” Anya said, standing behind Valerie who was sitting at the vanity.

They spent some time finding the most flattering palette for Valerie’s face for business meetings and conferences, for social events and to compliment her evening wear.

A hairstylist was brought in to cut and style Valerie’s hair.

“I love your hair. It is so black and glossy and it compliments your alabaster skin,” the stylist fussed around Valerie’s hair until she finally went to work with a flurry of scissors and combs and brushes.

The stylist cut very little but she straightened Valerie’s hair, gave it a centre part and cut a severe straight fringe across her brows. It was full and glossy and when Valerie applied bright red lipstick to her lips she looked stunning. Her heart-shaped face with its flawless alabaster complexion; her red lips and bright emerald-green eyes framed by the black off-the-shoulder bob were strikingly beautiful.

“Ok, you look gorgeous. Now we have to dress you,” Anya threw open the wardrobe.

Valerie had already explored the contents of the wardrobe. Everything was top quality and imported, right down to the lingerie and hosiery. No more mass-produced, cheap white panties and bras, no more Brest Stocking Mill lustreless drab pantyhose. One of the drawers was full of silky, shiny, sheer pantyhose and nylon stockings. The range of lingerie was overwhelming.

Valerie thought briefly about the cheap, mass-manufactured, hand-altered suit and the tatty knock-off high heels she had been wearing when she arrived at Novogorbovo. She never wanted to see them again.

“During the day you will need to dress professionally but stylishly. You need to show the Americans that Russian women are not all frumpy matrons with hairs sticking out of their stockings,” Anya said.

“You need to project respectability and probity but also your sensuality,” Anya began to lay out business suits on the bed.

“Because I am a honey trap who is to seduce stupid American men so they can be blackmailed,” Valerie said petulantly.

Anya took three steps across the room and slapped Valerie across the face.

“Who do think you are? What do you think you’re doing here? Thousands of Soviet women would gladly be in your position. You are not only in a position of privilege; you get to serve the State and undermine the Americans who think the world must bow to their every whim,” Anya said solemnly.

“But I am a prisoner with no control over my life,” Valerie said, holding her scalding cheek.

“Stop whining and look on the bright side. You wanted to be woman! Well now you are one so behave like a true socialist woman and do your duty!” Anya said, turning her back on Valerie and began rummaging through the wardrobe.

Anya matched blouses to suits, tops to skirts, and shoes to the ensembles. Then she opened a large jewellery case and matched accessories.

“Ok. We have daywear, eveningwear, work wear, formal wear and casuals, note which item goes with which. Of course you will be able to use your own discretion but I’m just trying to give you some fashion sense before you leave,” Anya was very pleasant again; as if nothing had happened.

Finally Valerie was allowed to dress in something other than the chemises she wore to bed. Her breasts had healed sufficiently to wear a bra and with Anya’s help she selected a black satin and lace brassiere and matching panties.

Putting on a bra for the first time with real breasts felt amazing; she felt so feminine, so womanly. She guessed that her implants, like everything else, were an import. Soviet factories produced agricultural machinery, munitions, warships, tanks and warplanes. They likely made prosthetic limbs for the poor soldiers being blown apart in Afghanistan but she doubted they made silicone breast implants for cosmetic surgery.

She had felt the heft of her breasts many times since the implant surgery but feeling her breasts being supported by a brassiere was a totally different experience and she liked it. Opening the package of Calvin Klein Daytime sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose nervously, Valerie marvelled at their lustre and silkiness.

“Be careful with your nails. Even with them manicured it’s possible to snag those pantyhose and they are expensive. Here use these hosiery gloves,” Anya handed Valerie a pair of thin cotton gloves.

The pantyhose felt absolutely wonderful as they glided up her freshly shaved legs. Valerie had been instructed in how to properly tuck and had been practicing pushing her testes inside her inguinal canals, then wrapping her penis in her empty scrotum and pushing it between her legs. Taped in place she could endure it for a few hours. Untaped her tuck needed the support of her pantyhose gusset which she now had. She shimmied into her panties and delighted in the feel of them gliding along her legs over her silky pantyhose.

“No need to tell you to always wear your panties over your pantyhose for obvious reasons. When you are wearing stockings and suspenders you will have to rely on wearing your tightest panties to keep everything in place,” Anya said matter-of-factly.

Anya stopped Valerie there and made her walk around the room in high heels. Valerie was very proficient but Anya taught her how to sway her hips seductively and to thrust her buttocks out. Once she had mastered the walk she was allowed to dress in a business suit.

She tried on everything in her wardrobe to ensure it fitted correctly and was delighted with the results and her laughter was like music in the air as she tried on garment after garment. She was taking daily speech lessons, not to improve her English which was perfect, but to help her develop a smoky seductive voice that suited her Russian accented English.

Yuri came in during the fitting session and had Valerie walk around the room for him whilst chatting to an imaginary gentlemen.

“Can you dance?” Yuri asked and Valerie blushed and shook her head.

Yuri looked at Anya and Anya blushed too.

“You should have thought of that Anya. Get her started on dance lessons. Nothing fancy, enough for her to be led around the dance floor whilst some fat American lecher feels her up,” Yuri said offhandedly and Anya nodded.

Dancing was added to Valerie’s daily routine of deportment, study of the American delegation and becoming familiar with the Moscow University where she was supposedly employed in the Cultural Development department where she wrote dissertations on western literature for the professors and acted as an interpreter when needed.

During her final weeks Valerie’s routine changed. She was considered absolutely competent at passing as a woman to be employed in the role she had been assigned. It was now time to introduce her to the world of intrigue and espionage. She saw less of Anaya and a lot more of Yuri Godekin who met with her privately.

At their first session Yuri was blunt with her.

“You need to learn how to fuck,” he said quite plainly.

Valerie blushed and couldn’t hold Yuri’s gaze.

“You are a seductress and a spy. I will teach you how to a spy but I have no intention of teaching you the arts of seduction and lovemaking. I’ll bring in someone else to teach you,” Yuri turned down his mouth in disgust.

“During your psychological exam you claimed to be virgin. Is that correct?” Yuri asked directly.

Valerie finally lifted her gaze from the carpet and looked him in the eye.

“I was confused about my sexuality as I was about my gender. I sometimes found myself attracted to women when I presented as Valéry and as Valerie I sometime found myself attracted to men. It was confusing so I never consummated a relationship,” Valerie admitted.

“What about before we left Moscow? The evening in Ivan Petrov’s office? He made me wait outside. I have waited outside Ivan Petrov’s office before while he interrogated young women. I know what he does in there,” Yuri reached for cigarettes.

Valerie’s face blushed scarlet and she turned away and shook her head.

Yuri lit a cigarette and then reached out and gently turned Valerie’s face to his. He studied her. The woman was astoundingly beautiful with her jet black hair, pale flawless skin, full red lips and green eyes; her small breasts heaving as she fought not to cry. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. A single tear escaped and streaked mascara in a thin line down her cheek.

Yuri reached for his handkerchief and reached out to dry her tears and Valerie flinched and turned away expecting a slap. Yuri turned her to face him again and gently dabbed his handkerchief on her cheek. Valerie’s frown turned into a wan smile and her eyes sparkled and in that moment Yuri thought he could actually care for this woman.

He placed the cigarette between her lips and Valerie inhaled the sweet American tobacco.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

“He made me fellate him,” Valerie whispered.

“How was it?” Yuri asked nonplussed.

“How do you think it was?” Valerie hissed.

“I mean it in a practical sense. You obviously complied and saw the act through to completion. Just how disgusting was it?” Yuri asked.

Yuri genuinely wanted to know. Valerie’s body and her beauty were weapons and she was going to have to seduce and have sex with strangers. He needed to know that she could deal with the consequences of having detached, emotionless sex with men she despised. She needed to be able to do it remorselessly and resolutely while she used her guile to bring about their downfall or steal their secrets.

Valerie took another drag on the cigarette.

“He made me suck his penis. I had no idea what I was doing so he, shall we say, instructed me. When I finished he seemed satisfied. He told me I wasn’t bad but would get better. Is that what you wanted to hear,” Valerie’s tears had retuned and now both cheeks were streaked with mascara.

Valerie didn’t tell Yuri that she had ejaculated into her panties during the act and that despite being terrified she found it a little empowering.

Yuri pulled Valerie into his arms and hugged her, feeling her small body nestle into his hard muscled frame. He felt her small breasts pressing into him and smelled the shampoo in her hair and her perfume and despite the revulsion he felt for what she was, he found himself becoming concupiscent and he gently disengaged and handed her his handkerchief so she could dry her cheeks.

Valerie was suddenly intrigued by Yuri. She couldn’t work him out. He ran hot and cold. Sometimes displaying affection for her and sometimes unable to hide his disgust. When he had comforted her in his arms she felt safe and secure and something else ... affection? She wasn’t sure but she thought she felt a bulge growing in his trousers before he eased her out of his embrace.

“Ok. Let’s get to work,” Yuri was all business.

He opened a pelican case and extracted a small camera and showed Valerie how to use it. It was tiny and designed to be hidden in her purse and when an opportunity arose she was to photograph every document she could lay her hands on.

“Don’t worry about whether or not the document is important. Just take the pictures and of course don’t get caught doing so,” Yuri gave her a rare smile.

“Using this button here the camera will take timed still photographs. Place it somewhere unobtrusive and aim it at the bed or wherever you are going to have sex. The aperture will change automatically,” Yuri explained.

“Practice with it tonight,” Yuri said matter-of-factly, which sent a shiver down Valerie’s back.

“In your hotel room in America I will mount a video camera that will be undetectable. It will be aimed at your bed. You must encourage your target to undertake sexual congress on the bed. Try to encourage him to engage in anything that might be considered by some to be deviant,” Yuri said, causing Valerie to blush for the umpteenth time that day.

“How will I know which targets to select?” Valerie asked.

“You have read the dossiers. Every one of those files represents a potential target but also use your intuition. We won’t know every participant at every event. If someone appears to be a suitable target and shows interest in you that way, do what you have to,” Yuri patted Valerie’s knee and for a second she was repulsed by him.

The day was spent discussing tradecraft and fieldwork until late afternoon when Anya returned. They had eaten a light lunch together. The food was splendid; far better than her usual diet but the portions were small. Anya told Valerie that she had to watch her diet and keep her figure.

Yuri said a formal goodbye and then said something quite out in left field.

“Good luck tonight Valerie. Learn quickly. I’m sure will enjoy it more than you think,” he gave her a salacious wink which Valerie found disturbing.

“What did Yuri mean by that?” Valerie asked, ignoring Anya’s directive not to ask questions.

“Tonight you are going to a cocktail party here in the facility. Most of the Soviet delegates travelling to USA will be there along with some invited guests,” Anya said and Valerie’s smile lit up the room.

She hadn’t been outside of the room since she came to the ‘facility’ except to use the gymnasium which was always deserted except for her and Anya when they used it.

“You will be formally introduced to Professor Mikhail Blavatsky as his interpreter and assistant for the cultural exchange conferences and you will be introduced to rest of the delegation. It will be an opportunity for you to test your backstory and to present yourself as a woman in a crowded, formal setting,” Anya continued.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Valerie could not contain her excitement.

“Among the guests will be a KGB agent disguised as an ordinary citizen. He knows who you are but will feign ignorance. Your job is to identify him as a potential source and entice him up this room and set your honey trap,” Anya said brusquely and Valerie paled.

“Don’t be coy. You know why you are here and not in some re-education camp in Siberia,” Anya snapped.

“Ok. I believe I can entice him to my room. Then what? As Yuri so plainly put it; I don’t know how to fuck!” Valerie snapped.

“That’s when the agent will take over. He will teach you the art of seduction and introduce you to the joys of sex,” Anya was her pleasant self again; she sounded almost jealous.

“Now there are some practicalities that you need to take care of. Come with me to the bathroom,” Anya took Valerie by the wrist and let her to the ensuite.

Valerie’s head was spinning and she allowed herself to be led along like a rag doll.

“Use this. Keep going until the water runs clear. Another reason for you to limit your food intake in America, the less you eat, the less time you spend doing this,” Anya handed Valerie what appeared to be a pump ball with a spigot attached.

“Make sure you lubricate before you insert it and a take a shower after and make sure there are no errant hairs on your body, you need to be perfect tonight,” Anya handed Valerie a tube of water-based lubricant and Valerie stood there holding the douche in one hand and the lubricant in the other, a stunned look on her face.

“Don’t be coy. You do it or I’ll do it to you and I won’t be gentle!” Anya put her hands on her hips defiantly.

Valerie came out of her reverie and pushed Anya out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

Thirty minutes later she emerged freshly showered and clean inside and out. Anya just nodded and ripped off Valerie’s shower cap and tossed it in the bathroom and led Valerie to the vanity to assess Valerie’s makeup skills.

Director of Foreign Operations Office, KGB Headquarters in Lubyanka Square – Two Days Earlier

“Comrade Professor Mikhail Blavatsky, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Ivan Petrov indicated for Mikhail to sit in a chair in front of his desk as he rose to pour vodka.

“Such a senseless waste. I loved her,” Professor Blavatsky began to blubber.

Mikhail had been inconsolable ever since his lover Petra Donevski had been killed in a hit and run outside of his University-provided apartment.

“She was perfect in every way. I don’t know what I will do without her. I know that she was assigned to me by your Directorate and was only doing her job, but I felt so much love for her,” Mikhail put his face in his hands and began to sob loudly.

Ivan put the two glasses of vodka down on his desk and turned to Mikhail Blavatsky and put his arms around him. When Mikhail looked up Ivan took a step back and slapped Mikhail across the face. Then he did it again and again, knocking the Professor out of his chair and then Ivan kicked him in the ribs.

“Get up you blithering fool. Petra Donevski was merely a tool and you were merely the man who was going to take her to the workplace. You were her cover and you knew it. We told her to fuck you so that you would be besotted by her and keep her identity safe,” Ivan leaned down and offered Mikhail a hand.

Mikhail waved the hand away and managed to get his feet and leaned on the back of the chair grimacing with pain.

“I couldn’t help falling in love with her,” Mikhail whimpered.

Ivan handed him the full tumbler of Vodka.

“You are a clerical rat and she was a wolf. Petra would have eaten you eventually,” Ivan looked at Mikhail knowingly.

“You knew her personally?” Mikhail was incredulous.

“I knew Petra. I selected her myself for this assignment and I always taste the wine I am about to serve to others,” Ivan raised his brows and chuckled.

“Anyway; enough of Petra. We have found you a new interpreter even better; even more beautiful but you are not to touch her,” Ivan downed his vodka and poured another.

Suddenly Professor Mikhail Blavatsky had something else on his mind beside the loss of his lover.

“More beautiful? When do I meet her?” he asked petulantly.

“In two days’ time you will be taken to a facility in Novogorbovo which resembles the hotel where the conference will be held in New York; what our American friends call a ‘meet and greet’. Valerie Sokolova will be introduced to you during the event. You will of course claim to be very familiar with Valerie and her work at the University to anyone who asks about her,” Ivan explained.

“As I have said before, she is off limits to you, other than in performing her duties as an interpreter and as your assistant,” Ivan glared at Mikhail who nodded meekly.

“Now go and pack for your journey Mikhail. Don’t mourn Petra any more than you have to. I’m sure there are students at the university who are willing to trade favours for grades, and if not, you are free to sample the delights of the Intourist Hotel. I’m advised by my sources that all of the hookers there favour pantyhose,” Ivan chuckled.

Mikhail’s face burned red. That bitch Petra Donevski had been reporting back to her bosses and told them about Mikhail’s obsession with pantyhose!

Ivan took Mikhail’s glass and guided him to the door.

Mikhail stopped and turned as he was about to leave.

“Petra’s death. It was an accident?” Mikhail asked; his face full of scepticism.

“Matters for wolves and bears Mikhail; best that rats like you scurry along and do your duty unknowing of what the wolves and bears have planned,” Ivan patted Mikhail’s shoulder and then closed the door on him.

Mikhail stalked away seething but he displayed no emotions to his two KGB chaperones.

Novogorbovo, Russia – June 1985

Valerie’s heart was beating fast. She was alone in her room with the handsome man she had picked up from the party which was still in full swing one floor below them. He had been relatively easy to spot as the KGB plant because he was the youngest and most handsome man there. He had told Valerie that he was part of the security detail and she had pretended to be interested in his work and used the subtle gestures that Anya had taught her to show the man that she was interested in his attention.

He was in the bathroom and Valerie was rummaging in her purse trying to find the miniature camera. She knew exactly where it was but because she was so nervous her long red fingernails kept clicking on everything except what she desperately wanted: the fucking camera!

She found it and clicked the little button that engaged the timed photography mode and set it on the vanity amongst a clutter of makeup and perfume. Valerie was adjusting the camera so that it was aimed directly at the bed when Vlad came out of the bathroom.

He was naked.

Valerie pretended to be looking for perfume and she raised the little bottle of Poison, her favourite, and sprayed herself liberally. She turned to face Vlad and blushed.

“You didn’t waste any time,” she said very nervously.

“You have achieved your objective Valerie Sokolova. You have lured me up to your room. You were a little clumsy but your beauty will make anyone forgive any little transgressions. Also you should be a little more subtle about placing the camera, remember you won’t be in your own room,” Vlad smiled at her and Valerie nearly swooned.

“I’m here to seduce you and show you how to make love so why don’t we start. As you can see I’m more the ready,” Vlad smiled and looked down at his long thick engorged penis.

“Come here,” Vlad reached out and pulled Valerie into his arms.

She was nervous but also very inquisitive and excited. Being amongst the crowd at the cocktail party had boosted her confidence after being confined for so long. Her beauty and poise had made her a popular conversationalist. She put her encounter with Professor Mikhail Blavatsky out of her mind; that had not gone well. Anyway Vlad had just put his lips on hers and all thoughts of anything else faded into oblivion.

She was wearing a low-cut red satin evening gown split to the waist on one side. It showed off her creamy décolletage and her long legs clad in shimmering flesh-toned thigh-high stockings.

Valerie could feel Vlad’s cock pressing on her leg as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. It was all happening so fast, the feel of Vlad’s muscular body pressing against her satin-clad body was so sensual, his tongue in her mouth so insistent and his cock rubbing on her leg was exciting.

Once again those feelings of being desired, being wanted, being feminine and being powerful coursed through Valerie’s psyche. She opened her mouth and extended her tongue into his and mimicked the movements he was doing to her. His lips pressing on hers felt deliriously wonderful and his tongue was doing things she couldn’t explain but it felt lovely.