Part 9 of my 'An Avenger's..." Black Widow series. This story takes place between Captain America: Civil War and Avengers: Infinity War.
*****
Creeping through the solitary darkness, the Black Widow gradually emerged from the shadows. Slipping through the open courtyard, the redhead vaulted over a high fence before dropping down into a sea of endless shipping containers. While avoiding security in a place like this was easy Natasha Romanoff would take no chances; she was still a wanted woman.
Feeling her belt cut tight against her hip, Natasha crouched low, grimacing as she waited for a guard to pass. Leaning against a steel barrier she took a steadying breath, chest threatening to bust the tight green vest she wore over her trademark navy catsuit.
Rising from her hidden position, Natasha darted stealthily through the nondescript metal maze, green eyes searching the darkness for the right container. Tight leather hugging her voluptuous curves, she delved deep into the eery complex of rusted towers.
Finding her target, Natasha scanned the container's serial number, whilst checking its perimeter was clear. Raising a fist the Avenger prepared to knock. Before she could however the door clunked open.
Natasha darted backward instinctively as the heavy steel swung towards her. Thumbing the hammer of the pistol strapped around her hip, she blinked hard, harsh light blinding her as it cascaded through the open portal.
Stepping into the limited space, Natasha closed the door behind her, careful not to slam it as she locked herself inside. Turning, the redhead's eyes adjusted slowly to her bright new surroundings:
The inside of the 3 by 9 container was considerably more high tech than the rusting metal exterior: This was a black site, a disused safehouse built by the long defunct SHIELD. However; where once there had been racks lined with weapons now each shelf was adorned with toys from her deepest darkest fantasies. Yet the woman at the centre of the room was all Natasha could see:
"You are late," Maria Hill stated coldly, acting as if nothing had changed, even though everything had. The Avengers had fractured, lines had been crossed. It had been 6 months, 27 days since their last encounter. But Maria was acting exactly the same:
Dressed in a form-fitting grey jumpsuit not dissimilar to Natasha's own, the former Director of SHIELD had lost none of her composure, emanating strength in-spite of their troubling new circumstances. Dark hair tied back in a tight bun, the brunette looked up from her work, fixing Natasha with her sharp blue stare.
Wilting almost immediately, Natasha tried not to react to the girl strapped between them; doing her best to feign indifference. Bound and gagged, the naked young thing wriggled against the restraints that tied her to the central workbench. Moaning pathetically, she stared back at Natasha:
"You wanted to see me?"
Massaging her subject, Maria ran her palms methodically along the girl's tense back, finger tips tracing the tight straps crisscrossing over tanned skin. Reaching under her the brunette brazenly appraised soft naked flesh. Weighing the girl's full chest in her firm grip, Maria plucked hard nipples, eliciting a strangled groan from her petrified subject. Satisfied with the girl's reaction, the Ex-Director of SHIELD nodded, finally addressing the elephant in the room:
"That suit looks ready to burst."
Already feeling self-conscious, Natasha tried to ignore the cruel jab, fingers tracing over her tight utility belt: Perhaps her body had lost some if its finer tone, the safety and security of civilian life applying a generous layer of cellulite to her frame; oozing through every curve and join of her skintight leather suit. Tugging hopelessly at the zipper that cut a vertical line in the front of her costume, the metal link remained low, stuck between her ample breasts.
Natasha shook her head; in less than 30 seconds Maria had belittled and demeaned her, exuding the dominance that had quelled the former Avenger again and again. Clearing her throat, the Black Widow tried to respond curtly:
"I've been in hiding for over a year."
"Then forced retirement doesn't suit you."
"What do you expect?" Natasha replied defensively, "You had me babysitting a kid for 6 months."
"Careful Romanoff," Maria growled, her sharp gaze cutting into Natasha once more: "You remember the chain of command don't you? Or do I have to strap you back into this thing?"
Seeing Maria's hand disappear beneath the bent over girl, Natasha heard a sharp intake of breath as she shuddered in place. Of course, Natasha remembered this treatment, the recalibration exercises were designed to change a woman's priorities: Hours, days spent in perpetual ecstasy, so close to release, so completely at the mercy of a superior. Every tool around them would be used until this girl was as weak and pliable as a new born lamb, ready to submit in every way she could. Finally she would be remade; crafted into a tool for sexual espionage.
Biting her tongue, Natasha shook her head. Of course she had known she wasn't Maria's only subject; the brunette had an insatiable appetite. Still it hurt to watch as she broke in her latest, more nubile asset.
Smiling darkly back at her, Maria slowly removed her arm from between the recruit's trembling thighs, lifting her hand to the light, inspecting cream covered fingers:
"Good girl."
Strutting around her subject, Maria opened the nearest cabinet, addressing Natasha as she searched:
"There are rumours that the Black Widow has been compromised."
"No Ma'am."
"So why are you not blonde?"
Confused, Natasha ran a hand through her hair. Inspecting wavy red locks, she cursed under her breath:
"Wanda..."
"Don't forget your place in all this Romanoff," Maria stated coldly. Stepping around the inclined girl, Natasha watching the brunette select the next largest strap-on in a row, suppressing a gulp as the brunette removed the huge, ribbed cock from its holder.
"You're a half-measure," Maria stated curtly: "a balm to distract our enemies, not our friends."
Turning away from Natasha, the superior brunette held the heavy dildo to her crotch, signalling her asset as she spoke:
"And I want you blonde."
Stepping close behind Maria, Natasha reached around the other woman, securing the straps as her superior continued:
"What is the mission?"
"I don't do 'missions' anymore, you know that-"
"What is the mission Romanoff!?"
Hanging her head, Natasha spoke quietly:
"No repeats. No feelings. The mission is submission."
"Good. Now hand me that."
Pointing to the tube of lubricant on the counter beside Natasha, the redhead reluctantly passed it to her, watching as the brunette squeezed gel over her fake phallus, speaking nonchalantly even as she massaged the liquid over the hard black tip:
"I don't want to hear you've been domesticated. Don't get compromised-"
Strutting past Natasha, Maria ran her eyes over her Natasha's buxom physique, secretly enjoying the extra layer of fat that bloated her already thick behind. Brushing past, she purposefully slapped a plump cheek:
"-Or sloppy."
Smirking, the brunette watched bountiful flesh jiggle in skintight leather, Natasha staying dutifully silent. Turning back to her hogtied recruit, Maria issued instructions:
"There has been a sighting of Rainbow Bridge activity in Europe. One of our contacts over there has hinted they know more than me. I don't like that."
"They're connected?" Natasha asked, watching as Maria took her place back behind the wide-eyed girl, stroking her ass before parting quivering cheeks:
"Undetermined. Go to Berlin and see what you can find."
Lining up her dildo as she spoke, Maria met Natasha's eyes once more. Staring back into those cold blue orbs, Natasha tensed, sensing what was coming:
In one powerful stroke, the brunette penetrated her target, the girl squealing helplessly around the gag in her mouth as Maria sank her strap-on deep into her tight virgin ass.
Maria reveled in the redhead's discomfort almost as much as she did this new girl's: none of her subjects had lasted as long as the Black Widow. Who knew such perfect submission required such... resilience.
Feeling the delicious pressure of the girl's tightness around her cock, the brunette made sure Natasha watched as her thighs slapped her subject's behind, enjoying the girl's muffled moans. Leaning against her hips, Maria exhaled, drinking in another delicious submission.
Glancing down into those desperate eyes, Natasha felt the girl's pleasurable agony. Losing her nerve, Natasha turned away; knowing all too well the utter depravation of sodomy.
"Remember the mission Romanoff."
Climbing out of the container, the Black Widow waited for the steel to slam shut behind her. Walking out of the complex, Natasha made no attempt at stealth: more compromised than ever.
...
Slinking through a club on Potsdammer Platz, Natasha ignored the incessant noise and throbbing light, focusing on getting a drink. Finding an empty space at the crowded bar the ex-agent planted herself on a high stool.
Natasha had been told their contact would find her here; otherwise she had zero intel. As far as ops go, this was already a bust. But this was not an op; and she had no authority. No plan, no weapons, no intel. Natasha was expected to sit on this stool until her contact revealed herself: Already completely at their mercy.
But as always Natasha made a good impression; dressed in a strapless blue satin gown the Ex-Avenger cut an elegant figure, that stood apart from her bustling surroundings, flawless make-up and high heels working together to emphasize already stunning beauty.
Minutes slowly ticked by. Finishing her first martini, Natasha ordered a second, taking a sip as she turned to survey the heaving crowd, watching men and women gyrate to the heavy beat as she searched for any sign of danger. The club was metropolitan, a place for rich, spoilt German kids to blow of steam: Natasha didn't like it.
When she finally felt a tap on her shoulder Natasha was legitimately surprised; it took a skilled opponent to sneak up on her. Twisting to face the new arrival, the Black Widow's eyes widened:
"You're a hard girl to reach."
Sharon Carter smiled:
"Romanoff."
Blinking disbelievingly, Natasha cleared her throat:
"You're our contact in Berlin??"
"Bet you hoped you'd never see me again huh?"
Natasha shook her head in dismay. Dressed in a black cocktail dress, the ex-SHIELD agent looked stunning, perfectly at ease in their vulgar setting. Taking a seat beside the former Avenger, Sharon nodded:
