Another failed mission

Okey, friends, your choos fate of agent Anastasia - and new story is ready now!

Anastasia quickly walked along the corridor, squeezing a revolver in her hand. On the dark-haired detective was her "black kit" - a small black dress with a hem to the middle of the thigh, silk gloves above the elbow, thin stockings and shiny shoes on an high heels. The girl's neck was adorned with a silver chain, and her green eyes gleamed shiningly behind the lenses of oval glasses in a thin metal frame. The detective was tense, and for good reason - the door of her room was ajar.
Pushing the flap with her shoulder, holding the revolver on her outstretched arms, the girl stepped into the room with a sliding step. She aimed at one corner, then the other. Took several steps from the threshold. And she did not notice the huge male silhouette emerging behind her. Powerful hands closed on the thin slender neck of the detective. Anastasia screamed in fright, and, with a sudden surprise, dropped the revolver - for a moment before the men's hands passed her throat, depriving her of the ability to breathe, shout, call for help. The detective realized with horror that the attacker would not let her bend over the revolver - and she had no other weapon with her. Panic swept the girl. She clutched the arms of the strangler, but her delicate, graceful fingers glided over his muscular forearms. Because of silk gloves, she could not even scratch the skin of her killer with her nails. Anastasia's vision began to fade, the room in front of her eyes faded, as if tears came to her eyelashes. Her left hand suddenly stopped listening and limped limp along the body. But the right-hand detective stubbornly clung to the wrist of the enemy - and for her life. She was doomed, but the strangler suddenly loosened his grip a bit ... and stepped forward. Already nothing understanding Anastasia involuntarily also took a step. Another one. And another. The man, continuing to squeeze the girl's throat, led her through the room. She walked slowly, stumbling, still holding onto the wrist of the strangler with her right hand - but not daring to resist. From the brink of consciousness, the detective felt that her white, smooth panties were saturated with sticky, warm, bodily moisture, and now hot streams flow down her thighs, her stockings.
The man led his victim to a luxurious double bed - the detective took a number for it, planning to have fun in spare time. Here the killer and his prey stopped. The man again squeezed the girl's throat in full force - she trembled all over, threw back her head, closed her eyes. Her right hand fell as a whip. Now in the hands of the unknown was only a limp body. The strangler laid Anastasia on the bed, on her back, so that her slender legs in black stockings would hang from the edge. Then he set to work. He carefully lifted the hem of the small dress, then pulled the white panties of the detective to her knees. He stroked her crotch - it responded to the touch, proving that the victim is still alive. After the man pulled off the shoulder straps girls dresses and bra, bare elastic breasts. Played a little with hard pink nipples. Finally, he laid the detective on the bed completely, climbed after her, lowered his pants. He took Anastasia under her thighs and went into her. A faint groan escaped her half-open lips. They moved together, and every moment the detective moaned louder. When he was close to the peak of pleasure, she suddenly opened her eyes and smiled, obviously not understanding what was happening to her, but feeling his cock inside of her. It lasted, however, only a couple of seconds - then the look of the beauty-detective became meaningful, and she cried out in horror, tried to push the man away. He, angry with her resistance, leaned forward and just hit the girl with a huge fist in the throat, breaking Adam's apple and crushing the airways. Anastasia arched herself in the hands of the murderer, wheezed, trembled. Her resistance turned into agony. And the strangler continued to enjoy the trembling young body. When he finished, the fingers of the detective's body, tightened in black silk, still twitching, but otherwise the girl was already dead. A strangler dismounted from the bed, dressed, picked up girl's revolver and left the room, leaving the unsuccessful hunter, who became a victim, on the crumpled sheets. Her lips were half open, an expression of pain and fright set on her face, and her wide-open eyes behind the lenses of glasses blindly stared at the ceiling.