Blac Widow - Compromised

Author's Note:

**This is a revised edition of a story published a few months ago, after the original was found to not comply with some of Literotica's rules.**

This chapter (and its follow-ups) takes place during the first Avengers movie. I actually started this story shortly after the movie was released in 2012, but never got around to finishing it.

Now, I've had some ideas for an ongoing series based on the Marvel Cinematic Universe's Black Widow, so thought I would re-write this initial chapter to get the ball rolling, hopefully making further stories based on her other MCU appearances.

Most of the movie's events remain the same unless otherwise stated, though I may reorder some of the chronology for the sake of pacing. I jump around through the story so this works better if you remember the movies well.

Of course, Marvel owns the rights to these characters, and there will be spoilers for the films involved.

*********

Luchkov. Georgi Luchkov. She would be glad to be done with him soon. The corrupt Russian general had reportedly been illegally selling weapons to the highest bidder, but finding out exactly the who and when required lots of surveillance. But there are some things that require a little more subtlety, for the more close-quarters scenarios.

That's when you send in the 'Black Widow', the master assassin able to infiltrate any organisation and take it down from the inside.

Tonight's opulent party was a social occasion for most of the guests, with Russia's rich and powerful in attendance, but for Luchkov it was time for clandestine business. For this particular S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, it was much the same.

Finding an invite to the party wasn't easy, but there was always a way in. The easy part was becoming part of the crowd. All you needed was a nice dress, a vague story about your desire to be a model in Moscow, and maybe a sprinkling of backstory for the guests to nod their heads and pretend to listen to.

The fact was, if you looked good at one of these parties, and put up with men constantly placing their hands on your back and ass, or their wives' jealous glares, things would go pretty smoothly. Slipping on some dark pantyhose and a short black dress, she looked good enough to draw some stares, but not outlandish enough to become the centre of attention.

These manor house gatherings gave the likes of Luchkov the opportunity to speak with high-ranking officials and businessmen without the any government oversight. There were no minutes taken at parties, while private companies can take care of the security. All that's left is to find an excuse to leave and find a quiet spot to talk shop.

After spending a few weeks on the case, Black Widow knew that Luchkov wasn't one to spill the beans to a pretty girl in a cocktail dress, but he wasn't nearly as smart as he thought he was. The care he took to keep his dodgy deals secret were more about his comfort than any real safety procedures, which meant all she had to do was wait for the meeting to commence.

In the meantime, the agent mingled at the party, trying to be both friendly and yet as forgettable as possible. She rarely needed to speak Russian usually, but this recent mission had proven she was as fluent in her first language as ever.

Early on she put a lot of effort into speaking to one elderly couple, mostly so she could reference them in other conversations, as if they had been close for a number of years. A quick wave to them across the room would be enough for most to believe that they knew each other.

Natalia Shostakova was her name tonight, a 23-year-old country girl born into wealth, eager to fit in with city socialites and make a name for herself far from the reaches of her family, even going so far as to change her surname. Most of this information would never be said aloud, but it made for a good base from which to build other lies on, and a simple psychological state to improvise a personality.

She made sure to always keep an eye on Luchkov's activities, but stayed far enough away so she would never catch his eye. Even a dimwit like him would recognise her face if he saw it too many times.

Around an hour into the party, she noticed the General sit down, surrounded by drunken friends. She saw another man, who she recognised as another Captain in his circle, lean down and whisper in his ear. Luchkov's smile disappeared, he shared a few angry words before dismissing the Captain, plastering on the fake smile for the other guests once more.

Knowing that the General would be occupied for at least a few minutes more, she let him leave her sight momentarily as she followed the other man. He walked briskly through the party to the kitchen. She nonchalantly followed him, a glass of champagne in her hand, but darted through to the garden on the left before she reached the kitchen.

Natalia Shostakova, thankfully, was a smoker, so she took the opportunity to step outside into the chill of the evening. She put her glass down on the window ledge for a moment, and discretely attached a small black device to the window as she did, turning its tiny antenna to face the next room door, where the Captain was talking in hushed tones.

She placed an earpiece in her ear, twisting its dial until a connection was made, and the conversation was clear, coming in halfway through a word.

"-ix it up then? Change the guards' patrols and catch them out?" An unknown voice said.

"Let's just keep the routes the same, I don't want anything to look different," said the Captain. "Let's just have everyone on high alert. I don't care who she is or what she's done, the Black Widow can be shot and killed like any other. If she's here like you say, she's finished."

'Well, this isn't good,' the spy thought to herself, 'but at least these idiots don't know what I look like, even if someone tipped them off that I'd be here'.

"She? You're still convinced it's a woman?" one voice asked, "Have you not heard the stories?"

She couldn't help but smile.

"All the same, Luchkov doesn't want the deal disturbed. We'll have to keep things looking the normal, so the investors don't get jumpy before money changes hands. If the Widow is here, we don't want her to know we know."

"Whatever you say, boss"

"Anyway," The Captain said, "The meeting is in 10 minutes in the basement on the west side of the house. Do me a favour and keep any wondering guests away."

Hearing all she needed to, she reached for the bug, shortening the antenna and putting it away in her purse. She took another drag of her cigarette, leaning against the outer wall as the two men left the kitchen. Suddenly, a man appeared to her left, his cigarette already lit in his hand.

Clearly a little drunk, he looked her up and down and smiled.

"Wonderful view out here, isn't it?"

"The trees look beautiful swaying in the breeze," she said, hoping this conversation would be brief.

"I wasn't talking about the view."

As he came closer, she reached for her drink and finished off the last of it.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Natalia, yours?"

"I'm Aleksandr. And I am very, very, pleased to meet such a good-looking woman"

He grasped her hand and kissed it, and Natalia nervously giggled.

"Thankyou so much, such a compliment from a handsome man like yourself"

"You have good manners," he grinned.

He let go of her hand but began to stroke up her arm. Natalia took one last drag of her cigarette with her other hand and dropped it to the floor.

Aleksandr's hand moved to the side of her face, at which point she suddenly remembered the earpiece still in her ear. Her hand shot up to his and, to avoid causing a scene, she instead lightly pulled it away from her face, bring it down further and further until it was level with her hip. As his gaze followed the movement, she used her other hand to remove the earpiece under the guise of tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

He placed his hand on her hip, she shot him a practised, hungry look, and he fell into her eyes. He leaned in and their lips met, first softly, then more firmly as his drunken passion took hold. Soon enough the kiss was accompanied by a caressing of her ass. His impatient hands then found the hem of her dress and slipped underneath.

She felt his fingers run over her ass, tracing their curves and feeling for the indent of her panties underneath the pantyhose. This would be an opportune moment to take him discretely aside and give him what he really wanted, but the timer had already been set on this mission.

As he reached further up, past her ass and to the tops of her tights, she knew she had to put an end to this as soon as possible. His fingertips crept underneath the hem and started to pull them down before she put her hand lightly on his forearms and pushed him away. To her surprise he relented, but glared at her with the eyes of someone who believed he would have her soon.

"Not now," she purred, trying to make her rejection appear like courtship, "and not here."

"Then where? And when?" he asked.

"I'll find you, or you'll find me," she smiled, then pointed to her empty glass. "I need to grab another drink. Once I've had a few more... we can find a little private room and I'll give you the full show."

As she said these words she let her hand travel down to his crotch, grazing the bulge in his pants lightly. It was still enough to make him immediately hard, at which point she turned on the spot and left him behind with a nice view as she walked away.

Almost paralysed by the erotic promise and no doubt waiting for his erection to go down before he rejoined the party, he watched her leave helplessly.

Now, she knew she had little time. She moved through the party as quickly as she could, always seeming part of the conversation but never stopping for long. Luchkov was gone from his seat, as she had thought, so she slipped through the crowd until she was free to head into the hallway, silently darting through the nearest doorway before the guard made his rounds.

She had been tracking their movements as best as she could since she arrived, so knew what areas were being monitored, but even with the plans of the house she had acquired, getting to the west wing of the home in a few minutes required a little finesse.

The room she had entered was a fire-lit study, unnecessary big in all dimensions, with ceilings that looked to be maybe over 30 feet high. While the room displayed the kind of opulence that grated on her, the agent found some good news - the huge wooden beams above her offered an opportunity to reach the window.

Slipping off her heels and holding them in one hand, she launched herself from the desk and onto a cabinet, from which she just about reached the lowest beam and swung further up. From there, she swiftly crawled across the beam and slipped through the window, pulling herself up from there onto the roof of the manor.

While their choice to remain more vigilant rather than change the guard routes seemed like it would make it easier for her to find her target, it did make it impossible for her to interact with anyone along the way. If someone didn't respond to a check-in for a few minutes, the alarm would go up on the instant.

To avoid this, Black Widow stayed to the rooftops, making use of the darkness to slink over to the west side of the manor with relative ease. From this vantage point she could see the figure of Luchkov ahead as he entered the basement. Needing to be closer, she stealthily climbed down the wall, dropping the final 20 feet into a roll.

Hiding behind some shrubbery, she could see the ideal spot to monitor the deal was ahead of her, but between the spy and her destination was a walkway brightly lit by a lamp and watched by a dutiful guard. Reaching into her purse, she grabbed her phone and opened up the timer app. She set the time to 3 seconds, then tapped start.

The instant she pressed the button the lamp's light blinkered out, leaving the walkway in darkness. She dropped the phone back into her bag and ran out, practically diving to make it to the bushes on the other side of the walkway in time. All the guard noticed was a faulty light flicker off momentarily.

Without the time to breathe a sigh of relief, she extended the antenna from what she affectionately called her "hearing aid", and attached it to a small window by her feet. The glass was thick and covered in dust on the inside, making it impossible to see, but once she set it up right, she could hear the conversation as clear as day. Placing the earpiece in her ear to listen, she also opened the music app on her phone, where the audio was logged and streamed to a nearby (relatively speaking) S.H.I.E.L.D satellite overhead, before dropping the phone back in the purse.

The spy relaxed as the information was relayed, knowing that a large part of her mission was done. All she had to do was listen to Luchkov boast of his connections for a bit longer and she could slip out of the party, all before drunken Aleksandr started to look for her.

It was all going pretty well, all things considered, until she overheard the voice of the guard she had just eluded. From his side of the conversation it sounded as if he was ordering back-up for a complete sweep of her surrounding area. While he likely saw it as an overly-cautious move, she was now faced with a dilemma: stay to record the deal or escape without a trace?

Without hesitation, she made her decision, and she knew its consequences. She would keep the hearing aid running for as long as she could, a choice that would likely end her in capture. From there, she would figure something out, but at least the information would give S.H.I.E.L.D. something to work with, as well as a lock on her location.

Working alone was the way she liked to do it, but a little back-up did ease her nerves a little, even if she did wish Agent Coulson would hold back on the incessant 'helping' all the time. Leaving her purse by the window as the conversation recorded, the agent swiftly approached the guard, who had discovered the skid in the grass where she had landed a few minutes ago.

Her jog turning into a full sprint, she lunged foot-first. With barely the time to see her coming, her kick hit him square in the chest, launching him backwards into the stone wall. As he tried to get up, she landed a swift punch to the head that put him out for the count.

The instant she landed this blow, she saw a device on his wrist begin to flash blue and a high-pitched beeping follow. 'Damn,' she thought, 'They must have heartrate sensors of some kind, and that means...'

Before she knew it, two armed guards came rushing around the corner. Before they had the chance to pull the trigger she jumped at the first, grappling around the neck and using her momentum to kick the second in the same move. Kicking out the first's knees and bringing him to the ground, she knocked him unconscious with a knee slam, grabbed his handgun and took his partner out with one shot.

With the alarm ringing and a gunshot fired, she knew the meeting had to be over. Holding down a button on her earpiece, she triggered a full wipe of her phone, its information already transferred via satellite. It was time to go.

Black Widow ran from the walkway through to another courtyard, taking out two more agents that spotted her before finding herself in the shadows once more. Her dress didn't offer much in terms of flexibility, and now it wasn't much of a cover as her dishevelled hair gave the game away. She needed an out soon or she would end up tied to a chair god-knows-where.

Listening out, she was surprised to find the courtyard completely silent, with no sounds of security, or even alarms. Seeing the chance to get to the garage and steal a ride, she ran forward, before feeling a distinct sting in her neck.

As her hand shot to the site of the pain instinctively, she felt something small embedded in her neck. 'A dart,' she realised as she removed it and looked at the small device in her hands. Her run came to a stop, and suddenly she felt very tired.

She felt a second sting in her arm, but this time the pain was a lot more subdued. Sinking to her knees, the world became a blur.

*****

Natasha started to come to her senses. With some amusement, and without the need to open her eyes, she realised she was 'tied to a chair god-knows-where'.

Sat with her wrists individually bound to the back of a wooden chair, she felt a breeze on her back, like there was an empty space behind her that she was perched on the edge of. Her eyes still closed, she listened intently to figure out where she was. She heard the sound of a distant train, jingling metal behind her - perhaps chains - and the murmur of three voices echoing despite their hushed tones.

This must be an abandoned warehouse, likely the one she had heard Luchkov brings those who talk too much, she realised. But with only three of them, in such an isolated location, they seemed to have vastly underestimated her. It would be insulting, if it wasn't so helpful.

Waking to find yourself strapped to a chair, while three men stand plotting what to do with you, wasn't exactly comforting. But more than most, Black Widow felt calm in this situation. In many ways, the black dress she was still wearing was as much her uniform as her combat gear, and she was looking forward to manipulating the truth out of these corrupt men.

She opened her eyes and feigned the dazed look of a confused captive wondering where she is. "Where am I?" she asked, squinting in the light.

The three of them gathered around her, Luchkov with his hands nonchalantly in his pockets. One of his guards approached her and slapped her across the face. She quickened her breath, putting on the fearful expressions she knew they wanted to see.

"This is not how I wanted the evening to go," Luchkov said, ignoring her question.

"I know how you wanted this evening to go," Black Widow replied. "Believe me, this is better."

"Who are you working for?"

As he spoke, the same guard approached her again, this time grabbing the top of the chair and leaning it back over the edge of the industrial shaft. Glancing down she saw she was on the sixth floor, with chains hanging from the ceiling above her, trailing down a shaft likely used to move heavy equipment from floor to floor.

"Lermantov, yes? Does he think, we have to go through him, to move our cargo?"

Natasha had been told Lermantov was out of the game, so she was learning already. She had to reset. She was no longer Natalia Shostakova, nor the real Black Widow, but the assassin-for-hire he seemed to think she was. That was a life she had left behind - for the most part.

"I thought General Solohob is in charge of the export business?"

She knew that Solohob was a patsy, but thought dropping the name in would make her seem less well-informed.

"Solohob? A bagman, a front. Your outdated information betrays you. The famous Black Widow... and she turns out to be simply another pretty face."

"You really think I'm pretty?"

Natasha had enough to go on by this point, but she wanted more information, and these guys were giving it away for free. All that she needed to do was hold out for a little while and she could end up with more data than she would have got had her surveillance been uninterrupted.

The first bodyguard pulled her head back by her hair and gripped her jaw, holding her mouth open and smiling down at her. The abrupt show of force was uncomfortable, but not intimidating. What was he doing?

"Tell Lermatov we don't need him to move the tanks. Tell him he is out," Luchkov continued, "But first - let's find a use for that pretty face."

As her head was held by the first, the second guard approached, at which point the spy knew the direction they were heading. It's not like she expected anything less from company like this.