Teaching Svetlana
- 3 years ago
- 8
- 0
Agent Svetlana free porn video
Agent Svetlana
By Gigi
My name is Jeff. I studied chemistry at MIT and convocated
near the bottom of my class, finally landing an entry-level
job with a large defence contractor in California. My
girlfriend broke up with me because she didn't want to move
to the West Coast and I haven't had much luck in the love
department since then.
In 2002 I was shocked when my professor brought me to the
attention of Hans Blix when the head of weapons inspections
was preparing to assemble his team, apparently for a
"special mission". On the last Thursday of November, 2002
Blix asked me to join and didn't have to go into detail
about what I'd be doing, I accepted without hesitation.
Anything would be better than my dreary job of filling and
emptying vials and jugs, photocopying pages and pages of
technical manuals, and generally trying to look busy. It
was unbelievable that someone with so little accomplishment
to his name would be of interest to the freakin' UN. Mr.
Blix said a flight was already arranged for me to New York
City on Monday.
But the next afternoon I was enjoying a cup of Grande
Columbian outside at a Starbucks near were I work. A van
pulled up beside where I sat. Two balaclaved men threw a
bag over my head and I was pulled into the back of the van.
I felt a leg pressed down hard on my chest and out of fear
for my life, I did not to struggle. The bag was tied
tightly against my neck but with just enough room to
breathe. A needle was jabbed into my right leg and I passed
out.
When I came to, I was still in the van with the over my
head. And now there were handcuffs pressing tightly against
my wrists. Shortly afterwards the van stopped. I was partly
carried and partly dragged out of the van and (presumably)
into a building. We went up a flight of stairs. I had no
idea how time had passed since I was abducted. A door was
opened, I was thrown to the floor then the door slammed
shut. I heard the clicking of latches and locks so I
guessed (rightly) that I was locked in.
I then fell unconscious but I had no idea for how long. Ten
Minutes? Ten hours? Two days? It didn't matter. But I had
that drowsy feeling you get in the first minute after you
awake and realize you were sleeping just moments ago.
Suddenly I heard a mean, high-pitched woman's voice but at
first didn't understand her words. She sounded like Dr.
Evil's Nazi girlfriend in the "Austin Powers" movies. I
felt a hard slap across my face.
"Will you do as I say for supper?" her staccato voice
demanded.
"Yes," I moaned. I was hungry.
"Good! Then I take off your mask."
The bag came off and I rubbed my eyes. I was in a large
warehouse. In the middle of it stood a tall, blonde-haired
woman of around 40 years of age. Her face was pretty but
her expression was stern. She was dressed in a navy-blue
skirt and matching jacket. I was lying on a fairly comfy
mattress in the dark, empty warehouse.
"Strip!" she cried.
"What?"
"Strip! Unbutton your shirt, remove your tie and so on.
Until everything is off."
"This is crazy!"
I hadn't noticed there was someone standing behind me but I
felt another needle jammed, this time into my butt.
"What the hell?" I shouted. My eyes glistened and I started
to cry, "What are you doing? I have a plane to catch."
The woman shrieked, "You needn't worry! You'll make that
plane."
"We know your expertise," she said, "We are not asking you
for your help. We are telling you that you will do as we
say or you will die."
I nodded, assuming she was a spy who had somehow learned
about my new job with the UN. But a spy for which country?
"You are going to infiltrate the home of the Iraqi defence
minister and locate missing files we believe are in his
study that confirm the presence of chemical weapons, " she
said.
"We need someone with your expertise in both chemical
weapons and appetite for crossdressing to accomplish the
mission. You have no choice. Strip!"
She had my number there. I won the Drag Princess Award at
for three consecutive years at my fraternity but otherwise
had thought I'd managed to keep this fetish of mine secret.
Frat brothers were sworn to silence about everything that
went on there. Damn, how did she know?
After stripping, I'd shaved my body hairless and bathed. I
knew the routine: I taped on the false breasts she provided
and put on a padded bra. I tugged the soft, smooth pink
panties up my slender legs. I did my own eyelashes,
lipstick, blush and perfume. Despite my ordeal, I actually
enjoyed this part... a little. I took off the soft white
robe I'd been wearing and putting on a very comfy light
pink blouse, knee length black skirt, pantyhose, and black
high heels. I donned a wig of straight, shoulder-length
black hair on top of my short brown hair. My facial
features were very soft and thin for a guy (hence my Drag
Princess reign at the frat) and had to admit I looked
pretty good under the circumstances when I gazed into the
mirror.
On the ride to LAX in a dark van, I pressed on some fake
long nails and double-checked my makeup. Just the two of us
sat in the backseat while our driver never once turned back
to look at me. We flew from Los Angeles to London on a
commercial flight (I'd been given a fake passport with my
new name "Svetlana"), then we switched to a small charter
plane, and flew to several airports on our way southeast to
Jordan. She still had not given me her name despite sitting
beside me the flights and drive. And she had said little
besides ordering me to study the mission's file. I never
thought of trying to escape. I just assumed she had at
least one weapon hidden somewhere in her clothing and that
she probably could kill me with her bare hands.
We cleared through the Jordanian-Iraqi border with ease and
were on our way to a rendezvous in northern Iraq.
Apparently I was posing as an Iraqi chemical weapons
scientist Svetlana Al-Hassan with whom I bore some
resemblance. Her mother was Iraqi while father was Russian
so she had a Russian name. She had studied abroad so she
knew some English - I had no idea if she was dead or alive.
"All you need to know is that you must retrieve those files
by any means. You are going to a facility that is well
aware of this woman's reputation and position high up in
the regime but where she has never visited in person," my
abductor said. I nodded.
"You have done very well, so far Svetlana." I nodded again.
She'd been referring to me by that name since the flight.
"Tomorrow it happens. You have one chance."
We drove into a quiet farmyard, parking inside a building.
It was nighttime.
"Get some rest, Svetlana."
I was led into a house and into a small room with a cheap
springwire bed and an old mattress. It looked very
uncomfortable but that didn't matter, as I fell asleep
without fully undressing. It seemed an instant later when I
awoke, but it was daytime outside.
I went to the bathroom and showered. There was toiletry bad
with all the amenities a woman would need beside the sink.
A neatly folded Iraqi military uniform, panties, falsies
and a bra were neatly waiting for me on a small table.
Again, I enjoyed putting on makeup and the wig. A breakfast
of coffee, toast and cold cereal waited for me.
"Good morning Svetlana," she said.
"Good morning."
"This is the end of the trip for me. Good luck."
Soon I was sitting alone in the back of the van, which was
part of a convoy of vans and trucks that were all black. We
were waived through the checkpoint and I was welcomed by
the facility's head officer and his security team.
They took one look at me and laughed. It was as though they
were expecting a really lousy drag queen-spy to show up on
their doorstep. Either they weren't fooled at all or
someone had tipped them off. I'll never know for sure.
I was arrested on the spot.
***
So here I am, two weeks later, stuck alone in a cell in an
Iraqi military prison eating gruel twice a day. The warden
knows a smattering of English and has told me I'll probably
be traded for Iraqi spies or the Al-Qaeda imprisoned at
Guantinimo Bay. I'll probably never know who abducted me,
whether it was the CIA, Mossad, British Intelligence, or
even the United Nations itself. No matter what, I'm
probably being kept alive by Saddam Hussein just to
embarrass whoever it was that sent me on this failed
mission. I can hope that maybe I'll gain my freedom someday
through a prisoner exchange when Iraq gets some of its
spies back from the West. Or if there's war with Iraq like
it says in the month old newspapers I'm given for a
bedspread.
The warden keeps me looking pretty though, with a huge
choice of wigs, makeup, and clothing. I've been forced at
gunpoint to pleasure him, other guards, and prisoners who
are being rewarded for good behaviour in all kinds of
horrible ways. I try to push away thoughts of suicide with
the faint hope that somehow, someday I'll be free again.
Until then, I'm Agent Svetlana, Captured Spy.
Rowan
- 30.01.2022
- 11
- 0
Agent Swann FBI Fucked Blackmailed and Impounded
- 3 years ago
- 12
- 0
AGENT BURNED The Further Adventures of Agent Suzzanne Midsummer 3
- 3 years ago
- 27
- 0
