Anastasia's First Time

MINSK, BELARUS

Somewhere in a secret underground facility...

Inside the big cage, the large, heavily muscled man grabbed Anastasia and threw her into the metal wall. She screamed as the pain jolted through her back and her head. He advanced on her, clearly enjoying the view of her petite, athletic body, clad in only a black bikini. Gritting her teeth, Ana struggled to her feet.

The man swung a massive fist at her face. Ana jerked her head to the side just in time, hearing him curse as his hand impacted the side of the steel cage. She sent a hard left hook into his nose, hearing a satisfying pop, then delivered a straight right to his jaw. He spat out the tooth she had loosened and tried to kick her, but she gracefully avoided the attack by performing a standing back handspring. She continued to do back handsprings all the way to the other corner of the cage, giving herself some distance.

The man advanced on her again, but more cautiously this time. He swung his fist, but Ana ducked safely under it, then rammed her knee into his stomach. It didn't have quite the effect she had intended on the shirtless man's rock-hard abs, though. He simply grunted. Before she could move, his knee had shot up into her midsection. She screamed in pain and doubled over, gasping for breath. Though she had a nice little set of six-pack abs too, they weren't much protection against an opponent this powerful.

"That's how to do it right, baby," he smirked. He moved behind her and wrapped a massive, heavily muscled arm around her neck. Ana thrashed wildly as he choked her, knowing she didn't have much time. She heard his cocky snickers behind her as she felt the fog start to cloud her brain...

Gathering all of her strength, she suddenly unleashed her leg in a high kick, reaching a full 180 degree standing split. The tip of her foot smashed into her opponent's forehead and she felt the arm loosen around her neck. Gasping for air as she shook herself free, she whirled into a jump spin kick, her foot striking the side of his head. Before he could recover, she roundhouse kicked him in the side, cracking one of his ribs, then performed a cartwheel, kicking him in the face with both feet in succession. He collapsed to the floor.

Ana did a front handspring to take herself over to her target. Landing gracefully, she raised her leg into a full standing split again, showing off her extraordinary flexibility. She then brought it down with blinding speed in an axe kick, the heel of her foot impacting his stomach with devastating force. This time, even his hard abs weren't enough to protect him from her brutal attack and he screamed in agony, curling up in the fetal position.

Anastasia raised her leg one final time, positioning it over her helpless opponent's head. She could see the terror in his eyes. She kept her leg in position for a few more moments, showing perfect balance.

Then, with a shrill scream, she dropped her leg...but stopped it at the last second, her heel only a centimeter from his forehead. She looked down at him, seeing him swallow hard.

A bell suddenly rang. Ana put her foot back down on the floor and held out a hand to help the man up. He took it gratefully, looking at her with new respect in his eyes.

"Thanks for...um...you know," he said, knowing that if her final, lethal axe kick had landed, his brains would be splattered all over the floor of the cage.

She gave him a small smile. "Don't mention it," she replied simply.

She then turned to look at the three men in dark suits who had been observing the whole fight. The man in the center, the grizzled old KGB veteran in charge of training new recruits and nicknamed the Sergeant Major, nodded in satisfaction and smiled at her for the first time. "Good work, Anastasia."

"Thank you, sir." Ana wiped the blood off her face.

The sergeant major motioned to one of his henchmen, who unlocked the door of the steel cage. The sergeant major looked at Ana and her male opponent as they exited. "You'd better get yourself to the doctor," he told the man.

After her opponent had left, the sergeant major looked at Ana and said, "You were aware that there was no rule against killing your opponent in the cage, yes?"

"I was, sir."

"You were also aware that he would have killed you if he'd had the chance."

"I was, sir."

"Why didn't you finish him?"

"The mission was to stay alive for five minutes locked in a steel cage with a much larger opponent who was an expert in hand-to-hand combat. I accomplished that mission. Finishing him was not part of it," she answered simply.

The sergeant major nodded, satisfied at her explanation. The two henchmen, however, were giving each other looks. Ana knew that the two were stereotyping her as "soft" because of her sex. She tried not to roll her eyes.

"Get yourself cleaned up and changed, then meet me in my office," said the sergeant major. He nodded at his assistants and the three men exited, leaving Ana alone in the big room. She looked over at the cage one last time, wondering how many new recruits had had their careers cut fatally short in it before they even began.

In the locker room, Anastasia stripped off her black bikini, then examined her bruised but victorious nude body in the full-length mirror. She was a very attractive young woman, with long silky brown hair, green eyes, and an elegant, high-cheekboned, model-like face. Her 5'6", 125-pound body was muscular and athletic, but feminine. Her 34B breasts were firm, round, and perky. They were tanned the same golden brown as the rest of her - she had no tan lines at all. Her dark brown pubic hair was neatly trimmed into a heart shape. She turned, admiring her 24-inch wasp waist and her round, hard, medium-sized dancer's ass.

She stepped into the shower, the warm water washing away the blood and soothing her aching muscles. As she watched the red liquid disappear down the drain, she thought about how close she had come to death. How, from the looks on their faces, neither her opponent in the cage nor the men watching had thought she'd had much of a chance. But she had proven them all wrong. She had conquered.

She looked down, following the path of a droplet of water as it traveled over her perky left boob, then down her firm, hard six-pack abs, and finally past her pink pussy lips. She felt her cunt getting wet and her nipples becoming erect as she continued thinking about the fight. There was something so raw, so primal, so erotic about a male and female body locked in the cage together, struggling for dominance...

She knew at that point that she had to get herself off before going into the sergeant major's office. Reaching out of the shower, she grabbed a hairbrush. Positioning herself against the back wall of the shower cubicle, the hot water still running over her body, she inserted the handle of the hairbrush into her wet pussy. She wished she had the time to do herself right, but she knew this would have to be a quickie.

Ana closed her eyes as she began moving the makeshift dildo in and out. She imagined that her opponent in the cage, after choking her into submission, slammed her against the wall and began fucking her brains out, giving her what she needed most. From the bulge she had seen in his shorts, she knew he had a massive cock. As she continued fucking herself with the hairbrush handle, she pictured him screwing her, pounding her, hurting her with his size and strength...For her, fighting was the best foreplay. Because of her expert martial arts skills, she usually won, throwing a guy onto the bed, or the couch, or the back seat of a car, and riding his cock like a cowgirl. There were so few men who had the strength to put her on her back or against a wall...

She held her breath, imagining that her opponent in the cage was choking her as he fucked her. That always made her orgasms more intense. The hot water continued to pour over her body as she moved the hairbrush faster and harder, feeling herself getting closer and closer. She tried to time it just right as she kept working her pussy and holding her breath. One minute, one minute fifteen seconds, one minute thirty...From her years of swimming in cold, dark lakes and rivers, she knew she could hold her breath for two minutes before becoming really dizzy.

She felt herself nearing the edge. With a final, powerful thrust of the hairbrush, she sent herself over the top, climaxing in a wild, powerful orgasm, her entire petite body shaking and shuddering. She alternated between shrieking in ecstasy and gulping in lungfuls of oxygen as her orgasm continued for several more seconds before finally subsiding.

The post-orgasm clarity washing over her, Ana looked towards the door, hoping she hadn't been too loud. She removed the hairbrush handle from her vagina and held it up to her face, smelling her own scent, which was slightly like fresh fruit. She inserted the handle into her mouth and gave it a good lick, enjoying the sweet taste. From kissing men (or women) after they went down on her, she knew she tasted good. She savored her taste for a few more seconds before removing the instrument from her mouth and using the shower to wash away the girl-cum from both it and her pussy.

Ana turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She quickly dried herself off with a towel, using another towel to dry her long hair as best she could, and got dressed. She put on her lacy black panties, then a tasteful knee-length black skirt and knee-high black leather boots. She admired her small tits in the mirror before covering them with a long-sleeved white top. Her perky 34B's didn't require a bra.

Looking in the mirror one last time, she noticed the messy condition of her hair. As she reached for the hairbrush, she couldn't help giggling. Actually using it for its intended purpose this time, she nodded in satisfaction and hurried out of the locker room.

In the office, the sergeant major, seated behind his large desk, motioned for Ana to have a seat across from him. His two assistants were standing by his side.

"Nice job in the cage today, Anastasia," the sergeant major began. "You've passed all the physical and mental tests that we've thrown at you. Now, all that remains before you become a full-fledged KGB agent is proving yourself in a graduation mission."

"Of course, sir," said Ana. "I'm ready."

"Good." He tossed a file at her. "This gentleman is a threat to our country. Your mission is to eliminate him, nice and clean, with the standard plausible deniability."

She looked through the file. "A journalist?" she said in surprise.

"Is there a problem, Anastasia?" asked the sergeant major.

"No, sir. It's just that I was expecting him to be a traitor, a double agent, or an enemy spy, or something like that..." she answered quickly.

"What's the matter?" asked one of the henchmen. "Is the GIRL too soft to bump off a journalist who's bad-mouthing the government and stirring up rebellion?"

"Yeah," snickered the second assistant. "It figures, though. After all, she was too soft to finish off her opponent in the cage."

Ana felt rage flowing through her, but she kept control of herself. "Perhaps one of you gentlemen would like to go against me in the cage one-on-one," she suggested. "I'll be happy to demonstrate that I'm not too soft to finish an opponent." At that, both men stopped snickering and looks of fear appeared on their faces. She knew that they knew that they couldn't defeat her in a fight. She smirked to herself at the role reversal, two large, tough, older men being forced to cower in fear of a petite, attractive young woman like herself.

"All right, that's enough, all of you," said the sergeant major. "Anastasia, despite the crudeness of their phrasing, my assistants do have a point. I've been reviewing your file. You've received excellent grades in almost every category. Marksmanship, intelligence, languages, hand-to-hand combat, of course...But there's one category in which your score was rather mediocre. The killer instinct, the will and the mental toughness to complete a mission at any cost, no matter your personal feelings." He looked into her green eyes with his icy blue ones. "Why did you want to join the KGB?"

Ana took a deep breath, thinking about the past. Growing up, her first big dream had been to become an Olympic gymnast. Through years and years of training, she had developed all the physical and mental skills necessary for it. Even now, she kept in practice, and she could still do back handsprings down the entire length of a soccer field, whip out half a dozen whipbacks in a row, or execute a double full twist. But when it came time to make the selection, the coach had informed her that her height of 5'6" was just too tall.

Then, she had moved on to her next dream, to become a model. She certainly had the looks for it, with her stunning beauty, perfect combination of athleticism and femininity, and the classic high cheekbones that successful models always seemed to have. But all the modeling agencies had informed her that while she was certainly hot enough to be a model, 5'6" was just too short. None of the agencies had been willing to sign her, and although she had gotten a few gigs on her own, she knew she wouldn't be able to make a career out of it.

Embittered by the rejections and not wanting to accept some soul-crushing job as a secretary or receptionist, she had decided to channel her newfound anger, along with her natural intelligence and athleticism, into a place where they would be appreciated, a place that didn't care about her height. And through all the brutality of the training at the KGB, she had succeeded. But now...

"Anastasia?" came the voice of the sergeant major.

She looked up from her daydream. "Oh. Sorry, sir."

"After the end of the Soviet Union, the Russians changed the name of their KGB," he continued. "But we in Belarus did not. As I'm sure you know, both agencies still do much the same things they did during the Cold War. Our agency's decision to keep its name shows an honesty that I respect. We do what we have to do to keep our country secure. Are you willing to be a part of that?"

"Of course, sir," said Ana in her calmest voice.

"Good. Now, you've had a long day, so I suggest you get some rest and tomorrow, you can start studying the file and planning the mission when your mind is fresh. This is your mission, your planning, your responsibility. There's just one rule. Don't fuck up. You are dismissed."

THE NEXT MORNING

Anastasia sat at her dining room table in her small apartment in one of the ubiquitous, ugly, Soviet-era high-rises in downtown Minsk. She glanced out the window at the grey sky, then turned back to the file on her assigned target.

His name was Yuri Kavalyonok. He was 38 years old and had been involved in anti-government activism for the past several years. He was kind of cute for an older guy, she thought as she looked at his picture. The file contained everything she needed to know about him, and more, from his hobbies to his favorite watering hole. She shook her head. The KGB certainly was thorough.

Ana finished her second glass of white wine and poured herself a third. She never used to drink in the morning. She hadn't even completed her first official mission yet and already the stress of the job was getting to her.

"Snap out of it, Anastasia," she told herself. She looked at her target's picture again, then at the addresses of his house and his favorite bar. The old seduce the victim into a vulnerable position trick should do nicely, she thought. She rolled up the sleeve of her top to look at the large-faced man's watch that hung slightly loose on her slender wrist. It was still fairly early in the morning. Around five in the afternoon, she decided, she'd head on over to the bar. If he didn't show up, she could try his house. She had plenty of time to finish planning.

THAT AFTERNOON

Anastasia parked her car a block down the street from the bar and got out, quickly checking her reflection in the window. She wore a long-sleeved white blouse with the top two buttons undone to show off part of her perky tits. As usual, she wasn't wearing a bra. A black miniskirt that showed off her slim but muscular thighs, knee-high black leather boots with stiletto heels, and black leather gloves completed her outfit. For tonight's mission, she wore a blonde wig.

Taking a deep breath, she looked around, then entered the bar. She saw Yuri almost immediately. She seated herself three stools down from him, glancing over at him occasionally and waiting for him to finish playing with his iPhone.

"Hey, baby," came a male voice from behind her. "What are you looking at that loser for? I'm way more of a man than he could ever be. How about I buy you a drink, sweetie?"

She turned, rolling her green eyes at the large, ugly man who was clearly already drunk. "I'm really not in the mood for this, so I'm going to ask you nicely, once, to leave me alone."

"And what if I don't wanna leave you alone?" he slurred with a cocky smirk.

She rolled her eyes again, really wanting to kick his ass but knowing she couldn't draw attention to herself tonight of all nights. "Then I'm not going to ask you so nice."

"Oh, really?" He reached out towards her breasts, but she grabbed his arm and twisted it painfully. His mouth opened, but before any sound could come out, she fired a quick karate chop into his throat with her free hand. Gasping, his hands flew to his neck. Faint squeaks were the only noises that came out of his mouth.

Still holding his arm captive, she twisted it further and hissed in a low voice, "Are you going to get out of here right now, or do I have to break your arm?"

"No! I mean yes! I mean, yes, I'll get out of here right now, and no, you don't have to break my arm. Please, miss, don't break my arm!"

She continued twisting his arm for a few more seconds just to rub it in, then finally released him. "Good. Now go." As he moaned in pain and tried to soothe his sore arm (and his sore ego), she added, "And quit whining, you big baby. Oh, and by the way, I'm way more of a man than you could ever be."

"Yes, ma'am." He gulped down the rest of his drink and raced out of the bar as fast as he could.

"Nice work," came the voice from behind her. She turned and saw that Yuri was now sitting beside her. "I was ready to jump in, but I could see that you didn't need any help."

She gave him her well-practiced seductress smile and saw him blush. "Thanks. I'm usually the one protecting my guy friends from trouble."

"In that case, I'll stick close to you. I'm Yuri, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Yuri. I'm Marina." Anastasia thought that was as good a fake name as any.

"So, Marina, may I buy you a drink?"

"Of course. Thank you, Yuri." She waved to the bartender. "Vodka Sprite, please."

After she had received her drink, Ana turned to Yuri and said, "So, what's a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?"

He laughed. "Just trying to drink my stress away. And failing. It's tough being a journalist these days. Especially if you want to be independent."

"Careful what you talk about. You never know who might be a spy..."

"Well, I decided long ago that I wasn't going to live in fear. If you do that, the enemy's already won."

Ana nodded. Poor, naive Yuri. He had no idea that SHE was the enemy. Finding herself thinking uncomfortable thoughts about her own position in life from his comments, she said, "Well, I didn't come here to discuss politics. In fact, I'm really not digging the vibe here. How about we go someplace a little more comfortable, like your place?"

He stared at her. She gave him her seductress smile again. "Oh, was that too forward?"

"Not at all. I like a woman who knows exactly what she wants." He stood up and tossed a bill on the counter. "Shall we?"