Chapter 4: Toast and Marmalade

Plaza Hotel, Midtown Manhattan, New York City – July 1985 – Day Three of the Convention

Valerie attended the morning and afternoon academic seminars with Professor Mikhail Blavatsky. They ate lunch with the academic contingent and Mikhail had very little opportunity to fondle Valerie so he didn’t try.

Mikhail was still stunned by what he had seen the previous evening. The beautiful young interpreter assigned to him was not what she appeared. She had all of the trappings of a pretty girl with her long legs, a great ass, perky tits and a beautiful face but she had the genitalia of a man.

Mikhail had thought long and deep about it overnight. He was a distinguished professor so he was no idiot. He had soon figured out what Valerie was all about or at least he thought he had. Petra Donevski had told Mikhail about how she was going to be used as a honey trap at the Convention by the KGB to ensnare unwitting American men and blackmail them into spying. One of Petra’s favourite pastimes was to taunt Mikhail with lurid details as to how she intended to seduce these strangers.

It was obvious to Mikhail that Valerie had been sent on the same mission but her being a transwoman made blackmail more conclusive and inescapable. A wayward husband could fall on his sword and admit that he had been seduced by a beautiful young woman, but when that woman had a cock and balls the wife would be less likely to forgive him and government agencies, especially the military would never forgive him and would drum the gullible fool out of the military or lock him up.

This thing! This violation of nature had taken the place of his beloved Petra. Petra who was beautiful, intelligent and quick witted and always wore those shiny, silky nylons on her long legs that drove Mikhail wild. Petra, who had been cast aside and killed when a better instrument for blackmail had come along. And even worse ... he knew that Petra only let Mikhail make love to her to keep him on a leash but this beautiful young transvestite was off limits to him and was treated better than he was by her KGB masters.

But now he knew her secret. What could she do if he fucked her? She had to keep her dirty little secret confidential or else she was useless. If she ran to Yuri Godekin and told him that Mikhail knew her secret she was likely to be punished for giving away her reason for being. Besides, she was a gorgeous young ingénue who Mikhail ached to possess. Why should the fact that she only had one hole between her legs prevent him from using her? It would be the spoiled little transvestite’s turn to feel humiliated. Fucking Valerie would not only sake Mikhail’s lust; the pleasure he got from debasing her would be priceless. He would have his revenge!

He just needed to pick the right time and the right place.

“Valerie, you have no, shall we say – extracurricular activities this evening,” Mikhail had been uncharacteristically pleasant all day.

“No. I am free to attend the dinner being hosted by the Georgetown University faculty this evening,” Valerie replied.

“It is imperative that I continue to present myself as your interpreter and aide throughout the convention, as you know Professor,” Valerie added.

Mikhail bristled at Valerie’s condescending tone but outwardly he just smiled at her with his yellowed teeth.

“I need to spend some time with Comrade Godekin but I will be ready in plenty of time for the dinner,” Valerie smiled at Mikhail and he nodded curtly.

“I’ll see you in the lobby at seven,” Mikhail stood aside and allowed Valerie to exit the elevator ahead of him.

Valerie was wearing a charcoal skirt-suit and Mikhail’s eyes locked on her buttocks and her legs and he inhaled the scent of her perfume that she left trailing behind her. He became semi-tumescent, even though he knew that under that skirt she hid a secret. How could something so beautiful, feminine and sensually provocative be such an abomination? Mikhail had noticed that most of the men attending today’s seminars had gawked at Valerie and most of the women seemed more than a little jealous of her when they first met her.

Of course Valerie had been nothing but congenial and had flirted just a little with the men and garnered friendships with the women. She had spent most of the day dutifully interpreting for Mikhail and tending to his needs; anticipating when he might need an academic position paper, a finding or a reference source. She attended to him almost like a faithful servant but all that did was incite Mikhail further. She was what did the Americans say – Goody Two Shoes, too pretty and too attentive to be credible as far as he was concerned. It was all a charade and he hated her for it.

Valerie ordered coffee when she got to her room. She kicked off her heels and massaged her feet. There was a runner in the heel of her pantyhose and they would need to be replaced. She marvelled at the decadence she had come to accept as commonplace. Not that long ago she would have been thrilled to own pantyhose like these and she would have carefully darned the ladder and coated it with clear nailpolish to stop it from running. Now she was prepared to toss them away and simply open a new package.

She looked at her red-lacquered toenails looking for the culprit: a hangnail or a burr, but she couldn’t find one.

Room service arrived at the same time as Yuri Godekin who sat patiently while the valet poured coffee. He tipped the valet the equivalent of two day’s pay for a Soviet proletariat and waited for her to leave before he spoke.

“A productive day Comrade?” Yuri put cream into the two cups of coffee and offered one to Valerie.

Valerie blew the bangs out of her eyes and smiled wanly.

“Very. Professor Mikhail Blavatsky was pleasant enough and I didn’t have to keep slapping his hand away from under my skirt,” Valerie sipped her coffee, leaving a red lipstick imprint on the rim.

“Glad to hear our academic illuminatus has finally got the message. Did you study the file I left you?” Yuri looked at Valerie over his coffee cup; she looked tired but still stunningly beautiful.

“Dexter Folger, advisor to several Senate committees, in particular the Congressional Oversight Committee. Secretly has a penchant for cocaine and high-class callgirls,” Valerie summarised the contents of the file in one sentence.

“Tomorrow night he is hosting a dinner for select delegates and we have manipulated the guest list to include Professor Mikhail Blavatsky and of course his interpreter,” Yuri nodded.

“This fish might not be so easy to catch. He is staying in the Plaza overnight but he is unlikely to accept an invitation to your room. We suggest that you do what you do so well and encourage Mister Folger to invite you up to his room. He will be more comfortable with such an arrangement I’m sure,” Yuri put down his cup and poured more coffee but Valerie declined.

“As you say sir, I’m to do what I do so well,” Valerie sighed.

“That’s what you here for Valerie,” Yuri patted her knee, his fingers lingered a little longer than would be considered polite.

Valerie put her fingers over his and leaned into him, her lips almost touching his earlobe.

“I will do my duty Comrade,” she whispered and stroked the back of Yuri’s hand softly with the tips of her manicured fingernails.

Then she took his hand in hers and firmly removed it from her knee.

Yuri blushed and stood up, adjusting the fall of his jacket to hide his semi-tumescence.

“Enjoy your evening Comrade Sokolova. I will drop by just before midnight to inform you of any updates. Re-familiarise with the Minox. Put in fresh film and make sure the auto-advance and timer are functioning correctly,” Yuri said curtly.

“Don’t get up; I’ll see myself out,” Yuri about-turned with almost military precision and walked to the door and let himself out.

Valerie attended to her toilette which had become a routine regimen, a morning and evening ritual ingrained into her at Novogorbovo. Shave (although she had very little facial or body hair), brush her teeth and use mouthwash, douche until the water runs clear, shower, fix hair and makeup, dress and accessorise. This evening she settled on a little black cocktail dress. She tucked and taped because the dress was so short and she was not expected to have sex. As usual she wore her panties over pantyhose: black glossy fifteen denier sheer black nylons and bold red satin panties. She knew that she should really wear black panties but she decided to give anyone who deemed to look up her dress a thrill. It was her way of being a little rebellious.

The dinner was a boring affair but Valerie played her role, sitting beside Professor Blavatsky, embellishing his stories to make him sound witty, enduring the leers of old men and the spiteful looks of their wives and partners. She was glad that the dinner was over early at nine-thirty. The edict that the Soviet delegates were not to leave the hotel meant that the dinner was held in one of the many private dining suites in The Plaza.

Professor Blavatsky behaved himself again but he drank heavily and spent most of the night taking furtive glances at the red V of Valerie’s panties because her hem refused to stay put and kept riding up her glossy nylons.

Mikhail once again let Valerie precede him out of the elevator and he watched her walk to room 525, his head swirling with drunken lust.

Valerie had not even had time to take off her heels when she heard a knock on her door. She guessed that it was Yuri Godekin and she was thankful that they could conclude their business early and she could go to bed. She too had been a little overindulgent with the champagne.

She opened the door and was surprised to find Mikhail Blavatsky standing there instead of Yuri.

“May I come in briefly, there are just a few points I want to discuss with you about tomorrow’s program,” he gave her his best smile.

Valerie was not really in the mood but she couldn’t go to bed until after Yuri’s final briefing anyway so she swung the door open and turned her back on Mikhail to let him know that she had only let him in begrudgingly.

Valerie was stunned when Mikhail kicked the door closed and propelled her into the room, pushing her in the back, making her stagger on her high heels.

“Get in the bedroom you whore!” Mikhail hissed, pushing her though the door leading to her bedroom.

She fell on the bed and Mikhail jumped on top of her, pinning her down. He might be a gangly old man with a pot belly but he was far stronger than Valerie and she struggled beneath him, whimpering with frustration when she couldn’t fight him off.

He punched her once in the ribs and knocked the air out of her.

“Shut up and stop struggling you transvestite whore,” Mikhail hissed into her ear.

Valerie froze when she heard the word transvestite.

“Yes, I know your dirty little secret. You will be useless to Comrades Petrov and Godekin if I expose you. You will be of no further use to them and they will dispose of you as they disposed of my Petra,” he growled.

“They will dispose of you too!” Valerie said petulantly and hated the sound of her whiny powerless voice.

“Don’t be stupid you shlyukha. I am a preeminent academic and if anything was to happen to me it would raise brows in the hallowed halls of the Party room. Even the KGB are not immune from oversight under General Secretary Gorbachev’s newly revised Communist Party. The KGB has only limited freedom to act as they wish,” Mikhail sounded like he was lecturing a student.

In fact Mikhail Blavatsky was bluffing but he sounded convincing and Valerie was terrified because he knew her secret.

Lying on top of Valerie Mikhail had already become erect, feeling her body beneath him; her buttocks pressing into his groin, her pretty face inches from his; the feel of her body and the smell of her perfume were overwhelming.

“What do you want?” Valerie spat into the pillow, already stained by her colourful makeup.

“You know what I want. I’ve made it quite clear. Of course I didn’t know that you were a transvestite before; but now that I do it changes nothing,” Mikhail felt Valerie relax and used the opportunity to flip her over on her back so that she was facing him.

“No!” Valerie cried.

“You deny me what you give away so freely to the Americans and God knows who else!” Mikhail slapped Valerie across the face.

“Not my face Comrade Professor. You can’t mark my face!” Valerie cried.

Valerie might be in the direst of situations but she knew that no matter what happened she needed to keep her pretty face unmarked for her to be an effective operative.

“Ok, I won’t mark your face. But I need you to cooperate,” Mikhail knew that he had Valerie’s full compliance if she was still worried about her looks.

Valerie issued a sigh of relief and that angered Mikhail. He tore open the top of Valerie’s dress and pulled her breasts from her brassiere and twisted a nipple cruelly.

“But there is nothing to stop me hurting you elsewhere,” Mikhail growled.

Valerie stifled a scream.

“I’ve told you what I want. Give it up and your secret remains safe with me. Comrade Godekin need not know that I know about you,” Mikhail leered at Valerie and twisted her nipple again.

“Of course Professor; just don’t hurt me,” Valerie surrendered.

Mikhail ripped off his shirt and lowered his face to Valerie’s and she turned away. Mikhail punched her in the ribs again and Valerie grunted and turned to face him. He looked down into her beautiful face, if anything made more beautiful by her smeared makeup. It made her look vulnerable ... fuckable.

He put his liver-lips on her plump lipsticked lips and kissed her. Valerie did not respond but she did not turn away either. She simply surrendered and allowed Mikhail to ravish her. He unzipped his fly and Valerie felt his cock pressing into her belly through the slinky material of her cocktail dress. His cock was hot and pulsing and alive and felt as evil and terrifying as the Professor himself.

Mikhail rubbed himself against Valerie, crushing her lips with his, pawing at her breasts, tweaking her nipples until she winced but he was astute enough to realise that her ripe berry-like nipples had hardened and he attempted to thrust his tongue into her mouth, slapping her face when she refused to open her lips. Valerie whined and complied.

“Not my face!” she whimpered again as she opened her mouth wide and allowed Mikhail to slide his slithering eel-like tongue into her mouth.

He covered her mouth with his and waggled his tongue whilst still molesting her breasts and rubbing his rampant cock on her belly. Valerie felt helpless and debased.

But she also felt something else. She felt that she deserved it.

She was a whore, a slattern, a transvestite, an abomination of nature that no man could ever love. She had been fabricated and trained to be a common harlot, to entice men into her bed and lead them to their doom. She knew the effect that she had been having on Professor Blavatsky and she had done nothing but tease him and provoke him and now she was getting what she deserved.

She might as well use her skills to give him what he wanted; the sooner the better. Let him use her as a vessel for his lust and send the repugnant man away satisfied and he would leave her alone. At least until next time.

Valerie offered Mikhail her tongue and he smiled around his lewd wet kisses. The bitch had given in! But he would not make it easy for her.

Valerie put her arms around Mikhail and lifted her legs so that her nylon-sheathed thighs pressed on his pale skin. She knew that men liked the feel of soft silky stockings caressing their flesh. She got the result she wanted when the Professor began to hump her belly faster and his tongue wriggled in her mouth. Could she make him come this way?

No.

The Professor was wise to Valerie’s ruse. Petra Donevski had used similar tactics when she wanted to make him come without entering her but with this transvestite whore he would have none of it.

Just when Valerie thought that she would be able to escape any further intimacy with the Professor he rolled off her and lay back with his head on the pillows and entwined his bony fingers in Valerie’s head and dragged her face to his groin. His gnarly cock stood erect, poking out of his flies. Valerie swallowed her bile and lowered her mouth to it. Best to get it over with. She was an accomplished fellatrix and she knew that she could make him blow his load quickly.

Mikhail slapped her face again.

“Undo my trousers you useless bitch, I want you to suck my balls,” he shook Valerie’s head, holding her by the roots of her hair, making her feel a little dizzy.

She unbuckled Mikhail’s belt and opened his pants. Although he had showered before dinner he had been sweating all evening and the reek from his groin was bilious, made worse by his cloying cheap cologne. Valerie took a deep breath and lowered her face to his pubis and lapped at his furry scrotum which was covered in grey wiry hairs. She began to gag but she used her tongue to slurp up the sweat and swallowed it until his ballsack was clean enough for her to suckle without gagging.

“Be careful you bitch ... oh my god!” Mikhail moaned as Valerie expertly took his scrotum in her mouth and softly suckled it whilst using the tip of her tongue to tease his testes.

Mikhail pawed at Valerie’s breasts while she suckled his balls. He tweaked her nipples and fondled her baps and Valerie suddenly became aware that she liked what the Professor was doing to her. The self-loathing, shame and humiliation that she instilled in herself fostered a mindset that she deserved to be used this way and that thinking somehow dissolved her revulsion. She was getting what she deserved so she might as well enjoy it.

No! She couldn’t think that way surely? Her face still stung from Mikhail’s blows, her ribs ached from his punches. She would not take a scintilla of pleasure from what he was forcing her to do.

But her body betrayed her. She sensed Mikhail’s hard penis looming over her face as she sucked his scrotum. She opened her eyes and saw his nodulous manhood, painfully erect, pre-ejaculate running freely from the eye and down the throbbing shaft.

She engulfed it and sucked it, swallowing the sweet nectar of his pre-seminal fluid which washed away the lingering fetid taste of his ballsack. She heard him moan and his fingers twisted tighter in her hair, guiding her bruised lipsticked lips up and down his proud erection.

Mikhail felt Valerie using her tongue on his glans and circling his fraenulum while her lips undulated back and forth along his shaft. He nearly surrendered. Valerie was stoking his scrotum with her fingertip while her mouth suckled his phallus bringing him close to the point of no return but he saw through her ruse.

He ripped her face away from his groin and threw her down on the bed, pushing her face into the pillows.

“I don’t want to see that filthy organ while I’m fucking your ass you whore,” Mikhail put his hand around Valerie’s neck and held her down while he pawed at her panties.

He hooked them aside exposing her sphincter than then he tore out the crotch of her pantyhose with a snaggled yellowed fingernail. Valerie was choking, fighting to breathe as Mikhail prodded at her sphincter with his distended cock and finally he forced his glans into her puckered bud.

Valerie squealed when Mikhail pushed himself inside her. She was raw and unlubricated and it felt like a red hot poker had been pushed into her bowels. She reached out her fingers and found the bedside table and was able to open the drawer. She scrambled blindly until her fingers found the tube of KY-Jelly. She took a deep breath and tried to talk.

“Here, use this. It will be better for us both,” Valerie waved the tube of lubricant in front of the professor’s eyes.

He snatched it, releasing her throat. His cock felt like it was fucking sandpaper because Valerie’s anus was so dry.

“You do it!” he rolled Valerie over so that she was facing him and handed her the lubricant, tearing his cock out of her as he did so, causing nearly as much pain as he did when he pushed it inside her.

Valerie unscrewed the cap of the KY-Jelly with shaky fingers and squeezed a dollop of the cool, slippery gel on her fingertips. She placed a gobbet of the gel in her puckered bud and smeared the remainder on Mikhail’s thick tool.

Then to Mikhail’s surprise she thrust two pillows under the arch of her back, lifted her legs and opened them wide and took Mikhail’s rampant penis in her hand. If she was going to be violated she might as well be violated with as little pain as possible. Valerie guided Mikhail’s prong to her glistening aperture and tried as hard as she could to relax her sphincter.

Mikhail’s cock slid slowly into her rectum until he had her fully impaled.

She suddenly wished that it did hurt. She wished that she had fought harder. She wished that she was not conditioned to be a slattern.

Although she detested the man lying on top of her, his glans pressed on her prostate and the girth of his shaft stimulated the sensitive nerves in her sphincter and she couldn’t suppress a groan of lusty pleasure. Having this repulsive man violate her had somehow triggered something suppressed deep inside of her that she had no control over.

She clung to Mikhail and crossed her ankles behind his back and rose up to meet his thrusts. She opened her mouth and welcomed his vile kisses as he fucked her hard, slamming her into the mattress, pounding his cock in and out of her tight channel. The more it hurt, the more Valerie loved it. She moaned like a slattern, dragging her fingernails across Mikhail’s back, digging her high heels into his flanks, encouraging him to fuck her harder.

The bedsprings protested and the headboard shook as Mikhail’s cock jackhammered in and out Valerie’s anus. Mikhail marvelled at the tight velvety duct clinging to his cock as he fucked her, it seemed to be gently squeezing his cock; milking it almost. The sensation was amazing and he drove his tongue into Valerie’s mouth, tasting her, smelling her perfume, feeling her soft body under him, her nipples hard against his flesh.

He couldn’t see it, which was just as well, but Valerie’s cock had sprung free from her tuck and was rock hard. Unbeknownst to Mikhail every time he thrust into Valerie his fat belly rubbed on Valerie’s cock through her satin panties which were saturated with lubricant and pre-seminal fluid.

Mikhail drove Valerie into the bed and roared as his scalding semen erupted from his rampant cock and filled her void. Valerie released into her panties, her orgasm wracking her body, causing her to shiver and shake as she moaned around Mikhail’s slobbering kisses. She clung to him, holding him tight, feeling his cock quiver in her anus as he deposited his vile load deep in her bowel. She felt disgusted with herself but the pleasure she felt was almost unimaginable and she just surrendered to it. She continued to ejaculate into her panties, spurting her issue as Mikhail’s issue filled her anus.

She lay under Mikhail, his weight crushing her, his sweat dripping on her face, his foul breath almost making her gag. She felt his cock slide out of her anus and his semen dribble between her legs. Her arms and legs were spread wide on the bed. She no longer wanted to hold him, she no longer wanted to kiss him; she felt disgusted with herself as the afterglow of her orgasm diminished.

Mikhail too was feeling post-coital regret. Yes he had accomplished what he set out to do: he had fucked his pretty assistant but the reality of what she was and what he had done to her made him feel dirty and depraved.

He climbed off Valerie without saying a word and she lay there silently staring at the ceiling while he dressed.

“See you tomorrow at breakfast. Don’t be late and don’t say a word about this,” he poked her in the ribs and smiled when she winced.

When Valerie heard the door close she ran to it and locked it and then raced into the bathroom and ripped off her clothes and jumped into the shower turning the water on full and as scalding hot as she could stand it.

FBI Field Office, New York City – July 1985

FBI Special Agents Vince Gruffalo and Bob Munsen and MI6 Agent Brice Bronson sat around the conference table talking intensely.

“So London and Washington have agreed to conduct this as a joint operation?” Bob Munson ruminated, swirling coffee grounds around the bottom of his cup.

“Yes, although I don’t know why. She’s operating on our turf,” Vince Gruffalo growled.

“I think MI6 are being very generous old chap. If not for us you Americans would have no idea that the Soviets were running an operative at your little Convention,” Brice sniffed.

“There was supposed be détente during the Conference. No defections and no covert operations from either side. Spirit of cooperation and all that bullshit,” Vince’s distaste for such an arrangement was evident in his tone.

“You never can trust the Ruskies. Now look here; we need to turn her. Find out who she has already lured into her honey trap and then get her working for us. If she’s still employed as an analyst in KGB Directorate Five, when she returns to Moscow she’ll be an invaluable source of information,” Brice said smugly.

“And if the Rooskies continue to run her as a field operative she will be just as valuable,” Vince countered.

“It’s win/win. We just have to nab her and turn her,” Bob Munsen piped in.

“I think it’s a job for the Limey; she’ll have seen you and I around the hotel conducting our security detail and the KGB know who we are too,” Bob continued.

“I hate to say it but you’re right Bob. Don’t forget Agent Bronson, she’s a shared asset once she’s turned,” Vince turned to Brice Bronson and pointed an accusatory finger at him

“Oh, of course old chap. That’s the agreement. Now let’s figure out how we are going to lure the spider out of her web,” Brice replied and three men got down to business.

Room 525 Plaza Hotel, New York City – July 1985

Valerie spent as much time in the shower as she dared. Her fingers and toes were starting to prune when she finally stepped out. She used her douche and squirted Professor Mikhail Blavatsky’s seed out of her body. She looked at herself critically in the mirror.

Most of the blows to her face had been slaps and the flushing on her cheeks was dissipating but the front of her lower lip was a little swollen and she had a small bruise under her left eye. Her ribs still ached and there were purple bruises on her abdomen and her nipples were still tender.

She got to work with her makeup and covered up the damage to her face. There was nothing she could do about the bruises on her body. She stepped into fresh pantyhose and pulled on a pair of high-waisted nylon panties to cover her belly, tucking herself but not taping.

She picked up the pantyhose and panties that she had been wearing when Mikhail Blavatsky violated her and threw them in the trash. She was ashamed that her own semen was comingled with the Professor’s but recriminations would have to wait until after Yuri Godekin’s visit. The black cocktail dress followed. It was a shame because she really liked the dress but if she kept it, it would forever remind her of the evening’s events.

She slipped into a silk nightgown and brushed her hair and examined her face in the mirror. Her makeup was heavier than usual to disguise her swollen lip and the bruise under her eye but she always wore heavy makeup so no one was likely to think anything was wrong.

Valerie looked at the mantle clock and saw that it was just after eleven. She opened the minibar and poured two miniature vodkas over ice and drank them. Then she started on the scotch. She hoped that alcohol would numb the pain, both physical and psychological.

She was dozing when Yuri tapped politely on the door before letting himself in.

“How was the dinner?” Yuri asked as he entered, waking Valerie from her slumber.

“Boring but mercifully over quickly,” Valerie forced a smile.

“You should have called my room. I could have come earlier and you could have gone to bed early and rested up. You’ll be busy again tomorrow,” Yuri placed a file down on the side table and then he noticed the empty vodka and scotch bottles.

“You were having a party?” Yuri frowned at the miniatures and the empty glass in front of her.

Valerie recalled the Professor lying on top of her, pounding her into the mattress and she winced.

“Hardly,” she replied.

Yuri had seen her wince and his sixth sense kicked in. He strode over to Valerie and helped her to her feet. She wobbled a little and flinched at the pain in her ribs.

“Are you drunk?” Yuri searched her face.

Valerie shook her head.

“I might have had one drink too many,” she corrected herself.

Yuri studied her face and then he tenderly reached out and touched her cheek and try as she might Valerie couldn’t help wincing when his finger touched the contusion under her eye. He gently wiped at the concealer, foundation and powder and revealed the mauve bruise. Then he wiped her lipstick with the back of his hand and revealed the swelling on her bottom lip.