Nights out in Tokyo
Steve lay back naked on the bed, watching Natasha as she slid out of bed to get things ready for tonight's mission. Naked except for the collar round her neck she was a delight to watch, lush curves over the compact muscles of a gymnast or dancer.
She stood and stretched, wincing slightly from a pain in her side. Steve did a double take. He'd seen her hurt, shot, stabbed, exploded, he'd carried her half-conscious from a collapsed bunker, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her actually act hurt. But he could see her side hurt. He thought back, she'd taken a pretty hard blow there in a fight three days ago but she'd shrugged it off like it was nothing. Not shown a sign it hurt. She healed so fast.
He stopped and re-evaluated what he knew about her. She didn't have the regeneration powers or spinal pain control implants people thought, she got hurt but she just didn't show it. She didn't wince, didn't cry out, didn't complain. She just didn't acknowledge pain existed.
Showing pain is as much a social thing as physical, it's primal.
But children who's cries are unanswered learn not to bother crying. People who only get more pain when they show weakness learn to stop showing it.
When she's being the Widow she moves like everyone in the room is looking at her, when she's being herself she seems to move normally but from what he's seeing now she was always carrying tension, a mask of normality. Even when she was acting normal she was still "acting".
But now, here, she wasn't even pretending to be anyone. She was just being herself, normal, mortal, vulnerable. It looked strange, almost alien to see her like this. But as she moved she was almost dancing round the room, stepping lightly, completely unselfconsciously as he watched, in fact she seemed to take a quiet delight in his attention.
She starts laying clothes out with deliberate grace, glancing at him with a smile on her lips.
"Tonight is a practise run to handle a digital personality in unusual situations. I've made you a new identity with complete paper trail and supporting documents; New face, new look, matching Passport, drivers licence, credit cards. We'll just go out, practise being someone else for a while."
"Sounds interesting. So, where are we going?"
"We've invites to a party being held tonight, after a fetish event in a local nightclub. It's a mix of club night, social event and market for kinky people selling clothes and toys. There will be drink, Food, music, fetish, decadence, performance art. Local kink people, artists, musicians, petty criminals, some yakuza. The best thing about these events is that people are already dressing up as someone else or undressing and showing off a hidden side, it's so much easier to be someone else. Also, we can wear face masks without people commenting"
"Now that sounds a little full on for me. Think I'll get on with these people?"
"You'd be surprised just how accepting they can be, Master"
"I'll take your word for that, my girl. So, who will I be tonight?"
He starts to look through the documents as she lays out clothes for him.
"Designer jeans. Fashionable tight black rock band Tshirt. Leather biker jacket. Black hair dye. Matching fake goatee beard. Styling wax hair product.
"Some kind of biker?" he looks at the passport "Lucas Lee, Rockstar?"
"The band is fictional but we got a few session musicians to do your first EP, "Thrilled to be here". We put it up on Soundcloud last year but made sure it was pretty bad so it got lost fast. We own the band website so we can tell if anyone checks up on you."
"And what if someone asks me to sing?"
"Here's a doctor's letter explaining you have nodules on your vocal cords and need to rest your voice, complete with throat X-Ray."
"Clever. So this also will also explain why my voice isn't exactly the same as the one on the songs you made?"
"Yes Sir."
"And who will you be?"
"I'm Charlotte, just along as eye candy to make you look good."
He laughs and wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close "Help me dress"
Looking in the mirror at his new look, He couldn't help but shake his head in amazement.
Natasha has darkened his hair and styled it back with some sort of wax, fixing the matching beard to his chin with a skin bonding nanotech adhesive that made it seem totally natural.
The jeans were modern Levi 501s, a deep indigo blue that's almost black but with patches of wear and tear artfully added.
He pulled them up, the fit was perfect and had enough stretch that he could move freely enough to fight. As always, equipment and costume was ideal.
Nat gave him the t shirt and he pulled it over his head. She helped him pull it down, caressing his abs.
He Shrugs on the jacket and looks at himself in the mirror
She smiles "Looking very good, Sir" She presses herself against him, stroking his cock through the jeans.
Steve looked in the mirror and saw two familiar strangers. The guy looks like him, but confident and almost menacing. The girl looks like her, but small and naked and vulnerable, skin pale against the dark of his clothes. He wraps an arm around her waist, watching himself in the mirror; the feel of her skin soft and warm against his palm, but seeing himself as someone else. A smug little smile creeps over his face, something that fits the new look, the character. Cocky, arrogant, self assured, kind of a jerk.
"Lucas Lee" He says, trying the name on for size. He tries it with a smile, a sneer, with a little Elvis lip curl.
It fits the face now.
"Hey Lucas, I'm Charlotte" She looks up at him, eyes big and doe like. "I love your music. Wanna go to a party? Maybe fool around afterwards?" She puts one hand on his shoulder, the other to her lips, biting her thumb.
"Sounds good to me" He grins "but why wait?" He grips the back of her collar tightly, pulling the leather strap tight as he pushes her head down, bending her over
"Oh!" She cries out in mock surprise as he holds her down, turning to a very real moan of surprised pleasure as he pulls his straining erection free of his new jeans and into her in one hard thrust. She's as wet and ready as he'd hoped, more in fact, tight and slick as he buries himself into her. She cries out, held powerlessly impaled, up on her tip toes, one strong hand of his on her waist, the other on her neck holding her in place. She struggles instinctively, grasping her collar as he pulls back and thrusts again. She delights in the feel of it, feeling penetrated and powerless, each thrust lifting her up off her feet as the collar strap near chokes the life from her.
He keeps thrusting, holding her tight, feeling her struggles become acquiescence then submission, using her hard and fast. It just feels right to overpower her, listening to her gasp and moan until he felt the tension release, burying himself balls deep into her as he came, feeling her grip him; it seems so fitting that she comes in reply to his orgasm.
He pulls her upright by her collar, pulling her to his chest. She's lost in the moment, melting into his embrace with a contented sigh. "oh Master."
He grins "A rock stars not going to wait until after the party, are they?"
that gets a little laugh from her
"Now get dressed, we've a party to get to" he grins