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SPOILS OF WAR

The members of the NightWatch, occupying the towers around the main compound, stared out into thesemi-darkness unexpectantly. The snow-covered landscape glowed blue againstthe black sky and the scene was still, aside from the occasional stirringof the cormorants on the wide silver lake to the east.

On a clear night likethis, the lights of an approaching vehicle could be seen from many kilometres.And incoming aircraft, increasingly unlikely these days, would be pickedup beyond visible range by the surveillance radar and they would be alertedby the AA battery springing to life. So the Night Watch could afford to relax,somewhat. The air was frigid and each counted the minutes until the end ofhis shift and the long-awaited warmth of the barracks.

Had any of their numberbeen looking for some reason into the compound, they would have chanced upona more interesting sight. But since there was no reason, they remained ignorantof the faltering progress of the strange figure moving diagonally acrossthe courtyard.

Both the appearance andmanner of this figure were eccentric. Clothed in an overcoat several sizestoo large, and wearing a large fur-lined hat, it was barefoot in spite ofthe inch or so of fresh snow covering the ground. A ragged line of footprintstraced back to the far side of the yard, irregular marks caused by a stumblinggait supported by a wooden crutch held in the right hand. As the figure madeits way towards the door of the detention block on the east side of the courtyard,it dragged a satchel through the snow by a long fabric strap. The satchelwas heavy, carving a groove into the snow, exposing the black tarmac beneath,and forcing the figure to pause every few steps to catch breath.

Reaching a metal door,the figure grasped the frozen handle without flinching and entered quietly.Dropping the hat, crutch and bag just inside the door, the soldier produceda pistol from one of the big pockets of the overcoat and proceeded down theweakly-lit corridor. Sounds could be heard from behind a door on the right:two men talking, laughing at some inane humour. Taking up a position squarelyin front of the door, the soldier hammered loudly on the metal. After a fewseconds the door was opened by a guard whose expression turned from annoyanceto shock as he found himself facing the pistol aimed squarely between hiseyes. He staggered backwards as the other jumped sharply from his seat, knockinga mug from a table which shattered on the floor.

"Back the fuck off," orderedYelena, her voice sounding unfamiliar to her. She had not used it for a while.One of the soldiers smiled briefly. "Come on..." he started buttrailed off as he recognised an expression he had seen once before, in anenemy soldier: that of someone preparing to kill. At this, he stiffened visiblyand stepped back cautiously, eyeing her, searching for a clue to her intentionswith him. She felt an echo of how the threat of death could divide and isolate.

Satisfied that she hadmade the necessary impression on the guards, Yelena cast her eyes aroundthe room, lingering over the rack of rifles, the telephone and the sets ofkeys hanging from a board on the wall.

"Any empty cells?" she asked. They shook their heads. "Storage room?" Yes, there was one, next door along.

"OK, you," shesaid, indicating to one of them with the tip of the pistol, "get thekeys to the storeroom."

Moving slowly, as if carefulnot to arouse a dangerous animal, he inched over to the board and, withoutlooking away from her, selected a set of keys.

"Mobiles?" shebarked and they looked at her uncertainly. "I know you've got your own.Let's see them.”

"Do it" sheordered again, and both fumbled in their pockets, producing their phones.She told them to drop them on the floor which they did, wincing slightlyas the precious devices smashed on the stone floor.

Stepping back into thecorridor, Yelena ordered them out of the guardroom. She followed them downthe corridor at a distance. By the time they reached the storeroom, the guardshad worked out what she had in mind and, without further command, unlockedthe door and stepped into the dark interior. She told them to toss out thekeys, and bent down carefully to pick them up, conscious that this was theirbest opportunity to tackle her. But of course the guards had no intentionof taking risks with their lives and stood motionless as she closed and lockedthe door on them.

Yelena let out her breathand replaced the gun in her pocket. The air was cold yet she felt the sweaton her face. Taking her time, she made her way slowly back up the corridor,steadying herself on the damp wall. Returning to the guardroom, she pickedthe other sets of keys from their hooks and stashed them in her empty pocket.Retrieving the crutch and bag, she hobbled back past the storeroom and tothe thick metal door at the far end. Slowly, methodically, she worked herway through the keys until she found the correct one.

As soon as she entered,she became aware of the presence of a number of people: the prisoners. Thepassage was lit weakly by the lights from behind her and she could make outthe bars of the holding pens. To her side was a set of switches and, as shepressed them, fluorescent lamps flickered on, providing harsh illuminationof the whole space. She heard the sounds of men stirring behind the bars,coughing, swearing.

Feeling the tension riseand adrenaline flow, Yelena once again discarded the crutch, walked to thefirst pen and turned to face its contents. Recognition flashed on the facesof each of the eight men inside, even those she did not remember. Then, mixedreactions. Several laughed at her, glancing at each other as they did. Onelunged at the bars, shaking them, causing Yelena to step back reflexively.

"Whore wants some more, does she?" he hissed.

Another joined in. "Yeah,this slut can't get enough. Come on in and we'll do you, you filthy cunt."

An older man, standingnear the centre of the cell, did not speak. He stood motionless and staredat her, unblinking. She saw understanding and, yes, fear in his eyes. Sheremembered him well and remembered too what she owed him. In a single motion,she pulled the pistol from her pocket and shot him in the face. The bulletdemolished his nose and he collapsed, first onto his knees and then to thefloor, eyes still wide, as if he was slow to accept that he had died sometimeduring his fall. The others scattered away, stunned, to a man clasping thetops of their heads in their hands. Even those sprayed with his blood.

No one spoke. Each wonderedif he would be next. They stood like a tableau, as if the world had stalledand was waiting for a kick-start. Yelena spoke.

"If you want to live,turn around and face the back wall. All the way back. Hands against the wall.Face straight ahead."

They were shit-scaredbut her first words had given them hope, so they did as they were told. Theremaining seven stood like a bizarre line-up. "I only saw the back ofhis head, officer...yes, it's number three" came a mischievous voicefrom somewhere in back of Yelena's mind. And in the foreground was Ivashko'scorpse, oozing blood across the floor.

Yelena bent down and openedthe satchel. From it she withdrew two glass bottles, wrapped in cloth. Thesecontained a light, clear liquid and were stuffed with rags in place of stoppers.If the men had been closer, they would have caught the familiar smell ofaviation fuel. She placed these carefully on the ground and dug in the baseof the bag for a lighter. A couple of strikes and she had a flame, whichshe played over each of the rags which lit easily.

Holding a bottle in eachhand, she walked up to the bars. "Face forward" she growled, incase anyone should risk a glance over their shoulder. This was the part shehad worried most about. But she felt a great flood of relief as she foundshe could pass the bottles between the bars. She felt rather odd, chest againstthe bars holding the two flaming bottles straight out ahead and felt thebile rise in her throat as she flexed her elbows. With as much force as shecould muster, she flung the bottles to the ground, just short of the lineof men.

She staggered back asshe felt the heat of the fireball on her face, blinded momentarily by theflash. For a second, the only sound was that of combustion, as dark shapesmoved amongst the flames. Then the screaming started. Several of the menwere alight, and the fire rapidly consumed their clothes, enveloping themin flames. They flung themselves repeatedly against the bars, each time fillingYelena's nostrils with the stench of burning flesh. Each would be driveninsane by the pain and the horror in the brief moments before he died.

She spotted one of themcowering in the far corner. He had managed to put the fire from out his clothing.Yelena shot him twice in the legs, bringing him howling to the ground. Producinganother bottle, she flung it into the pen in his direction without botheringto light it and soon he too was engulfed in flames.

Yelena took in the appallingscene. She watched, apparently impassively, as one by one the shapes collapsedto the ground. The screaming petered out, to be replaced by shouting fromthe other pen further down the passage. Then, she watched the licks of flamedancing over the blackening bodies. Neither the copious smoke nor the horrendoussmell seemed to bother her. She was mesmerised, like a child on her firstfireworks night.

After she had seen enough,she picked up the satchel and pistol, and proceeded to the next pen. Whenshe stood facing the remaining six men, they fell silent. No bravado thistime, she thought, satisfied with herself.

"What have you done?" pleadedone, in a voice Yelena thought somewhat pathetic. She ignored him. Methodically,she placed the satchel on the floor and removed the last two bottles. Shewas wondering how she was going to persuade them to turn their backs thistime. Suddenly, she heard noises: men entering the building, alerted by thegunshots she guessed. She must hurry to finish her work.

"Back," sheshouted, shooting the nearest man in the gut. They responded, but steppedback only a little, allowing the wounded man to fall to the floor, wherehe lay squealing in pain. Seconds to go. Dropping the gun, she rolled thetwo bottles under the bars, towards the side wall. They did not break, andthe men tried to retrieve them. Yelena felt in the bag and closed her handround the grenade. As she withdrew it, she pulled out the pin and rolledit into the cell towards the opposite wall. One of the men spotted this anddived for it. Incredibly, he succeeded and, with a flick of his wrist, flungit back towards her. The soldiers were in the room. The grenade hit one ofthe bars and bounced back towards the pack of men. Someone cried out. Itdetonated while still in its arc, and Yelena was lifted off her feet by theshockwave and thrown back with tremendous force against the stone wall. Theimpact knocked her senseless.

She came round lying onthe floor against the wall, feet out in front of her. She was unable to feelher legs. The grenade seemed to have wrecked the whole fabric of space: thebars of the cell, still parallel, were at a strange angle. The walls weredistorted and doubled and, as she looked at them, kept flexing, shimmering.Through the flames and searing smoke, she saw bodies, some incomplete. Whitenoise hissed in her ears. She felt wetness on her face and chest, and realisedthat she was blind in one eye. A hand lay at her side, torn from a body.She wondered if it might be hers.

A bloodstained face loomed,lips moving, filling what remained of her visual field. She looked into itssearching eyes. But the hand on her shoulder was enough to upset her precariousconsciousness and she was sent spiralling into teeming blackness.

***

Major Liashenko sat uncomfortablynext to the only occupied bed in the medical block. He hated coming hereand was thankful that he was called upon to do so only rarely now. He waslooking at Corporal Savchyn, who lay in the bed, under what passed here forintensive care. An IV bag hung from a stand, a clear tube plugged into herarm. Other tubes disappeared under the blanket. Her right eye was closed,her left hidden behind the bandages which covered half her face. She wasasleep, her chest rising and falling with her shallow breaths. He felt genuinesorrow at the sight of her broken body. He remembered her when she had beenso vital, so committed, so young and attractive. The camp doctor had toldhim that her spinal injury was not operable. What an awful, terrible waste,he thought.

The nurse arrived holdinga small syringe, responding to his order. She looked at him briefly beforelifting the girl’s forearm and delivering the dose. She inspected thepatient briefly, lifting her eyelid with her thumb, then nodded curtly atthe Major and departed. After just a short while, he saw Yelena stir, thenopen her eye. Her pupil darted around, eventually settling on him. She madeno attempt at a greeting, just lay staring at him, or more accurately theMajor thought, through him.

“Corporal Savchyn,can you hear me?” he asked, in an overly loud voice.

“Yes,” sheresponded, softly, calmly, barely moving her lips.

“Corporal,” hebegan again, too harshly he realised immediately and checked himself. “Yelena,” hecontinued, searching for the right words which would get him what he needed. “Yelena,why…why in God’s name did you do it? I didn’t even know…theydidn’t even tell me you’d come round.” He received no response.

“Look, Corporal,we needed them alive, we needed the information. Do you know what you’vedone? Aside from committing a war crime. There’ll be a court martial,it’s unavoidable. I know what they did to you. I…But we wouldhave dealt with them. They would have been punished…” his voicetrailed off into uncertainty.

“Are they all dead?” askedYelena, in an unemotional tone, her concern betrayed by a stiffening of herneck and jaw. Yes, the Major replied, the last had finally died the previousday.

“Good,” shecommented, exhaling, relaxing with a thin smile passing briefly across herlips.

“For Christ’ssake, Yelena,” pleaded the Major, exasperated, “you would havebeen OK. Your injuries, they were…you would have been OK. Look atwhat you’ve done to yourself.”

Both remained silent fora time after that, the woman lying passively, staring into space, the Majorshifting awkwardly in his chair. Finally, he tried again.

“Yelena, listen.We…we didn’t find any of the others. I’m sorry. Do you…” hecleared his throat noisily, “do you know what happened to them?”

“All dead,” shereplied at once. She did not elaborate.

“Are you sure? Whatabout Corporal Volnyiak?” he asked, tipping forward a little. Yelenalooked at him, saw it in his eyes. She was not surprised by his specificinterest.

“She’s dead,” sheconfirmed, bluntly. “I killed her myself.” She continued to stareat him, checking for his reaction. If he was shocked, he hid it.

“I see,” hesaid, his face falling. “I’m sorry. Corporal, you must be honestwith me: what did you tell them? You understand why I have to ask.”

Again, Yelena respondedwithout hesitation. “Everything. On the first day.”

The Major sat back witha sigh. “The others, do you think…?” She replied thatshe did not know.

He looked again at thepoor girl, his old, hard eyes stinging with tears until he controlled himself.The brief questioning seemed to have drained her. I’m sorry, he thought,the apology directed nowhere in particular. He forced himself to think ofher just as he would any other soldier, to understand what she might neednow. If it were him, in her place.

He stood up and walkedslowly round the bed. She followed him with her eye. He took her hand, turningit to see the palm, squeezing it gently with his thumb. Into it he placeda small device which had been lying on the side table. It was a thin blacktube with a plunger set into the end, crudely improvised. As he closed herhand around it, he moved her thumb so that they both depressed the plungertogether. A few seconds passed and then he saw the effect of the morphinedrift across her face.

“Goodbye, CorporalSavchyn,” he said. Getting no reaction, he turned and strode swiftlyout of the room.

Yelena felt the warm glowspread and the pain recede from her upper body. Below her waist she was numband she knew what that implied. But, perhaps due to the effects of the drug,it did not bother her especially.

She was relieved thatshe had succeeded. She had been so determined but had not been at all confidentthat she could pull it off. Now it was over, closed, done. For the firsttime since her rescue, she began to think of herself and her own future.

She thought about returninghome, to be cared for by her mother. She was sure she must be still alive –shewould felt it otherwise. She thought about how her life would be and imaginedit like her early childhood, being bathed and dressed and fed by her Mama,tucked in at night with a kiss on the forehead. She remembered it now, forthe first time in her adult life, remembered the happiness. And the innocence.

But she realised too thatreturn was a fantasy. She could not let her mother know what had happenedto her. Could not wake her in the night with her nightmares, so powerfulthat they had had to strap her down and sedate her when she was first broughtto this ward. Even now, she felt them. Dark, evil shapes circling the warmglow which protected her, searching for a chink and a route inside. As aprecaution, she pressed the plunger again and waited for the surge of themorphine.

With reassurance she contemplatedthe device she held in her hand, that subtle instrument of death. How manyclicks would it take to end it for her? Five, six, maybe more. God, it feltgood to possess it. She had felt the same sensation before, when she hadbeen in the detention block, before she killed them, and earlier. The powerto take life. In this world, she realised, that was all that mattered. Asbefore, the knowledge that she held it brought her peace.

She looked around theward. All the other beds she could see were empty. A nurse, on the far sideof the room, was occupied with some activity, her back to her. Yelena wasall alone in the world, and it was a good feeling. She smiled.

She pressed the plungeragain. Rapidly, repeatedly, until she was sure it was enough. She waited.She felt it begin to rise inside her, now swelling fast, too fast, huge,accelerating, threatening to crush her and for a moment she was afraid. Butthen the glow overtook her and it felt like a great wave of warm water, submergingher, picking her up and carrying her away. She was expanding as still itgrew inside, effortlessly, endlessly. Then she realised that it was not shethat was expanding but the world that was diminishing, contracting untilit became a tiny point and then, at last, blinking out.

***

“No way, man!” shoutedPanych as he scrambled back towards them, diving behind the low, partiallydemolished wall. “No fucking way. Gunship. Two maybe. And on the ground!”,he screamed his report. Gunfire erupted nearby and mortars, two in quicksuccession, struck the building opposite, shaking the ground, bringing masonrytumbling to the ground. Clouds of white powder blew across the small bandof soldiers huddled together in the ruined building.

“Fuck,” thecommander spat. “OK,” he shouted above the noise, looking aroundat the seven of them. “Ossie, Savchyn, covering positions, over thereby the corner. You and Volnyiak, on the opposite side. You two, hold it here.Rudiak, recce, down to the end. OK?”

They scrambled to theirpositions, Yelena and Natasha catching each other’s eyes as they crouchedon either side of the narrow entrance, raising their weapons. Between them,Rudiak sprinted over to the far side of the street. How, thought Yelena,how could we have got cut off like this?

Down her gunsight, shewatched Rudiak progress rapidly down the street. His body cast a long shadowin the late summer evening sun. “Go, Pavlo,” she muttered. Shecould hear helicopters, overhead, behind them to the east.

“Hold steady,” camethe commander’s voice from behind.

Pavlo had reached theend of the street. He paused, back to the wall, checking his weapon. ThenYelena saw him poke his head round the corner. Almost immediately, he wastearing back towards them. Not good, she thought, not good. Without orders,they left their positions and moved out cautiously to meet him.

“Get back!” heshouted. Behind him, at the far end of the street, Yelena caught sight ofthe front of an armoured vehicle emerging from the adjacent street. A puffof smoke. Then automatic fire, high calibre, whistling through the air. Rippingthrough Pavlo, shredding him. Yelena leapt back in shock.

Cowering behind the wall,she looked over at Natasha, whose eyes were fixed on Pavlo’s body whichlay strewn about the street. The AFV was bearing down on them and soldierswere scattering around it, jogging down the sidewalks. The band fell back,taking cover behind the stonework. Yelena looked over at the commander desperately. “Whatnow sir?” she cried out. He raised his head above the low wall to respondto her. A single shot rang out, high-powered, reverberating across the street.Yelena watched, frozen, as a hole appeared in the middle of his foreheadand he fell back out of sight.

“Christ!” screamedsomeone, scrambling behind her.

“What do we do?” Yelenaasked Ossovitch, next to her, who was now technically in command.

“Nothing,” hereplied, despondently, and threw his weapon out into the street. Liftinghis hands above his head, trembling, he staggered out.

***

The truck bounced alongroads blasted by landmines, throwing the prisoners roughly against each other.The six of them were hooded, their hands tied tightly behind their backswith packing straps. Conscious of the guards seated amongst them, they remainedsilent, each receding into their private worlds, facing their fears individually.

A brief stop and voicesoutside told the prisoners that they had arrived at their destination. Thevehicle continued a short distance then turned sharply before jerking toa halt. Its rear doors were flung open and the prisoners roughly manhandledout and onto the tarmac. All around them was noise: people walking, running,shouting, engines revving.

After being dragged afurther distance, the prisoners were made to kneel on the ground and, oneby one, had their hoods removed. They found themselves lined up at one endof a temporary hangar formed out of corrugated steel. At the other end wasa loading bay, where the truck which had delivered them was being reloadedwith wooden crates. Armed guards paced amongst them. In front of them wasa man standing behind a battered metal office desk, scrutinising them. Hewalked around it until he stood immediately before them, bearing down.

“Filthy cowards,” hesneered at them, enjoying the looks of surprise he obtained. “Lettingyourselves be taken alive.” He spat at Panych, who did not react.

“That’s whyyou scum are getting such a lathering. No guts.” Yelena thought aboutall the prisoners she had seen being escorted into their own compound butmade no attempt to comment.

“Well, boys andgirls, I better tell you now that you’re going to wish you bought itout there, after we’ve done with you. Don’t think you’regoing to be treated like anything but the vermin you are.” He pausedto let the words sink in, his eyes searching for evidence of their effect.Ossovitch, straightening up and speaking out of turn, interjected.

“As leader of ourgroup I demand rights under the Geneva Convention.” He spoke very quickly,nervously, intent to get out all the words before being interrupted or silenced.

“Ha!” exclaimedthe officer, who then abruptly changed tone to one less confrontational. “Sure.No problem. Not quite sure exactly about the details though. Not as educatedhere as you lot. Sergeant Medvid,” he called out to one of the guards “you’vebeen to Geneva.”

“Zurich actually,sir,” replied the sergeant. Yelena felt her heart sink. They were beingtoyed with.

“Well, that’sthe closest we’ve got I’m afraid. Sergeant, can you show thislot your understanding of the Geneva Convention?”

“Yes sir, gladlysir,” came the response.

The sergeant marched roundin front of the line of prisoners and walked up and down, inspecting thekneeling figures. When he passed in front of Natasha, he paused and Yelenasaw him nod to someone behind them.

Suddenly, Natasha wasbeing lifted to her feet, a big man behind forcing her forward, in frontof them.

“Bring her here,” orderedthe sergeant, now standing near the table. Natasha tried to look back ather comrades, a flash of shock and fear on her face. She was held in position,her left side to them. Yelena watched as the sergeant put his hands to herwaist, tugging at her trousers. Natasha tried to call out but the soldierbehind placed his big hand over her mouth, muffling her. Then her trouserswere around her shins, revealing her white panties, preventing her from defendingherself with her legs.

Yelena and the other prisonerslooked on in horror as Natasha’s panties were ripped down, exposingthe dark triangle between her legs. Then she was thrown down forward overthe desk, the big guard holding her down with one hand on her strapped wristsand the other holding a clump of hair. She was now crying out for help, pleadingwith them to leave her alone. Yelena’s eyes were drawn to her whitebuttocks, quivering as her legs trembled. She glimpsed the sergeant’serect penis as he dug it from within his clothing, before he turned his backto them.

“No! Stop!” criedout one of the others. Yelena heard the butt of a rifle clash against boneand he collapsed to the floor. Then she listened to Natasha scream as thesergeant thrust into her. Please no, she was begging as he assaulted her,brutally, the desk squeaking as he hammered each stroke into her helplessbody.

The remaining prisonerswatched open-mouthed as Natasha was raped in front of them. Yelena, appalled,terrorised, began to feel increasingly afraid herself. While all of themwere shocked by what they were witnessing, she alone was particularly vulnerable.Suddenly she thought it: Oh God, I’m going to be next. The lights areon me. I can’t cope...no…

She was totally isolatednow, between the men, who would not share her fate, and Natasha, who hadalready found hers and from whom Yelena wanted to separate herself as faras she could. This is the beginning, she thought, filled with gloom.

Natasha by now was bawlinglike a child as the sergeant quickened his pace, pounding her against thedesk. Then he stiffened, grunting, and Natasha let out a long, wounded cry.He withdrew and, before she forced herself to close her eyes, she saw Natasha’slabia close around the black seeping hole between her legs.

Tears and mucus streamingfrom her eyes and nose, Natasha was led back over to the line where she knelt,two places down from Yelena, snivelling.

“How was it, sergeant?” askedthe officer in charge.

“Nice and tight,sir,” he replied, breathlessly, as he zipped himself up.

“Good,” heconcluded. “Right now. Let’s get on with it. You” he ordered,pointing at Panych, who knelt at one end of the line. “Stand up!”.

Panych got clumsily tohis feet. A guard, standing behind him, produced a combat knife and cut theplastic strap around his wrists.

“Take off your clothesand boots. Place them at your feet”, the man behind the desk commanded.Panych showed no sign of dissent as he bent down to untie his bootlaces.Soon he was standing in his underwear, his clothes in a pile in front ofhim.

“Good. On your knees,hands behind your head,” he was instructed. One by one, each of theprisoners undressed. Yelena now knelt in a white vest and panties. She hopedNatasha was all right but had been afraid to turn her head to check on her.She heard the clink of metal and soon found her wrists being shackled together.Her hands now between her knees, she was startled but did not resist as shewas told to open her mouth and a metal bit was placed between her teeth,held in place by a strap fastened around the back of her head. She chokeda little but accustomed herself to the gag. A hood was placed back over herhead and strapped in place. She listened to muffled noises as they finishedwith the others.

When they were all similarlyrestrained, the order was given to stand and they were escorted away, stumblingnow and then as they were force-marched into a second building.

***

Yelena was pushed forwardsand she struck a wall. Rough hands turned her around and lifted her shackledwrists high above her head, stretching her body. They were fixed there andshe hung free for a second before her legs were forced apart, making herstand on tiptoes. She felt straps against her ankles, not tight, but enoughto prevent her closing her thighs. Someone pinched her nipple, hard, throughher vest, as they withdrew, making her cry out in surprise. She stood, breathingheavily into the hood, as she heard the sounds of the others being chainedup.

Their captors left themfor some time and they all hung, listening to the clinking chains, the oddcough, the pitiful sound of a woman sobbing. Yelena was haunted by the vividimage of Natasha a few minutes earlier. The sight of her black bush as herpanties were yanked down, the look of surprise and terror in her eyes, herquivering buttocks before the sergeant mounted her. Please don’t letthem do that to me, she prayed.

She began to wonder howlong they would be kept there. Her strained position was becoming increasinglyuncomfortable, especially around her wrists and shoulders. And she neededto go to the toilet. She squeezed her pelvic muscles to keep it in.

Abruptly, men enteredthe holding area and paced around.

“Who shall we beginwith?” asked a voice, unemotionally. Yelena was terrified that theywould pick her. For a moment she was transported back to the schoolroom,trying to avoid the teacher’s eyes as the roved the room, searchingfor a victim. Please, pick one of the men.

“Let’s takethat one first. She’s already broken in.” Oh no, thought Yelena,as she heard movement opposite her. Natasha was trying to scream throughher gag and struggling as she was manhandled. One of the male prisoners criedout. There were shouts. Then the remaining five hung listening to the recedingfootsteps and the sound of a door being opened a short way down the hall.No one made a sound as they waited. Yelena felt acid rise in her chest asher breathing quickened.

They could hear the faintsounds of movement coming down the hallway from the room. Then silence. Sheneeded to pee and her bladder burned.

Yelena jumped as she heardthe first scream, screwing up her eyes and straining against her restraints.It was a hideous, strangulated cry which echoed through the walls. Then,more faint but still recognisable, Natasha’s distorted voice begging,pleading. A pause. Then a torrent of cries, howls, peals of anguish, contorted,guttural, obscene. On and on. Some of the men started to cry out, screamingto block the noise from their ears. Yelena, desperate to escape, shook wildlyin her restraints, digging her teeth into the bit. On and on.

After what seemed likehours, Yelena and the others became aware that the sounds from the otherroom had ceased. Although they feared what the silence might mean for Natasha,they all felt relief that their own torture had ended for now.

Footsteps could be heardas someone entered the chamber. He strode around and then settled in frontof Yelena.

“Well, you’rea pretty thing, aren’t you?” he snarled. She sensed him comecloser, invading her space. “Let’s see what jewels you’rehiding.” As he spoke, he began to lift her vest. Yelena tried to protest,tried in vain to free her arms to protect herself, but she was unable toprevent him from rolling up the fabric to reveal her bare breasts.

“Ah yes,” hemurmured, taking them in his coarse hands, kneading them, exploring theirshape and size. Yelena moaned. She was acutely embarrassed, knowing thather male comrades were witnessing this, and felt her face flush and heatfill the hood. Her cheeks were wet with perspiration.

“Sweet,” hecommented, rolling her thick nipples between thumb and forefinger. Yelenasquirmed, trying to twist her body, ineffectively against the strict restraints.She felt his breath on her left breast and then the abrasion of his stubblychin as he took her nipple in his mouth, biting it. She let out a cry atthe sharp pain. One of the other prisoners tried to call out: “Leaveher alone!” --barely understandable.

The guard abruptly withdrewfrom Yelena and strode over to the man who had tried to intervene.

“What the…?Aha, what’s this…you’re fucking hard!” he exclaimed,fumbling with him. “What kind of pervert are you? Getting turned onwhile I mess with your girlfriend. You make me sick. How about I cut thisoff?” At this, Yelena heard him punch the man hard, five or six times,winding him. Please don’t let that be Sasha, she thought. He was alittle soft on her.

Suddenly, the man wasin front of her again.

“Prat,” hesaid, casually. “Now, where were we? You’ve got good tits, I’llgive you that. You a blonde by any chance? Not allowed to take off that hood.Let’s take a look down below.” Yelena stiffened as she felt histhumbs tucking into her panties, gasping as he slipped them down to her knees.

“Oh. Shame,” heconcluded. “Nice twat though.”

Yelena gritted her teethagainst the metal bit as she felt her pubic hair tugged between his stubbyfingers. “No!” she cried as his finger probed between her legs.He began, roughly, to masturbate her.

It was at this momentthat a woman’s screams began again to echo down the hallway. They hadstarted with Natasha again. God help us, she prayed as she bucked her hips,trying to escape his disgusting manipulations.

“Hear that?” hehissed. “That’ll be you, soon. Makes my flesh creep, frankly.Ugly stuff.” Tears streamed down Yelena’s cheeks as he workedher, now with two fingers in her vagina, licking his lips.

“Tell you what.Gotta say: I fancy you. I’ll do you a deal. You be my private slutand I’ll spare you the worst of it. How about it? Can’t say Iwon’t pass you around but you’ll be mine for now. Long as you,you know, keep a smile on my face.”

Natasha was making increasinglydisturbing noises now and Yelena’s mind raced with thoughts of whatthey could be doing to her. She was terrified, knowing that sooner or latershe would be in that room, begging for mercy and receiving none. Could sheprostitute herself to cheat it? She tried to focus as his fingers flexedwithin her body.

“Well, what’llit be?” he demanded. Yelena grunted affirmatively. Please, take meout of this, don’t hurt me too much, she was trying to say.

Abruptly he stepped back,jerking his fingers out of her.”Slag!” he screamed, slappingher across the face.

“How about that,boys? This whore’ll trade her cunt for a way out. Leave you all torot. Nice, huh?” He was pacing around the room, eliciting moans ofprotest from the men. “Don’t worry. She’ll be getting itlike the rest of you. Then she’ll beg me to fuck her, if she can stillwork her jaw.” Natasha’s howls continued to reverberate aroundthem.

Utterly shamed in frontof her comrades, Yelena burst into tears, grinding her teeth against themetal, choking on her own saliva. Why…why was this happening to her?Her body shook with her sobs.

Natasha’s crieshad ceased again and it had grown quiet. Unable to control herself any longer,she emptied her bladder down her legs and her urine splashed noisily ontothe floor.

“Bitch has pissedherself!” exulted the guard, finding her new humiliation hilarious.

Yelena was still sobbingwhen they came for their next victim. She knew that it was her turn, evenbefore they came over to retrieve her. She made no sound as they restoredher clothing, brought her out and marched her from the chamber, her jaw clampedagainst the cold metal of the bit between her teeth.

***

Yelena stood, quaking,as the shackles were removed from her wrists. She was told to raise her armsand, as she did so, she felt her vest being lifted from her body and overher head. Again she felt heat in her cheeks at the exposure of her breastsand tried to cover herself with her freed hands. But her wrists were swiftlygrabbed and pulled behind her back where they were again bound together withthe metal restraints. She was aware of several men in the room with her.

Blinded by the hood, sheheld her position uncertainly before she was propelled forwards until hershins knocked up against a solid object.

“Get up on yourknees,” ordered a voice behind her and for a moment she did not understandwhat she was supposed to do.

”Come on, bitch,” boomed the voice again and a hand grabbed her by the back of the strap around her neck and lifted her onto the object, clumsily, the surface hard and rough against her knees. Suddenly, her head was forced down and for a second she panicked as she felt herself falling forwards. She was stayed by the hand on the strap as another yanked her cuffed hands upwards behind her back, wrenching her arms painfully in their sockets until they were vertical. She grunted through the bit as the cuffs were fixed in place and her neck released. She heard movement behind her and hands on her flesh as her legs were parted and leather straps drawn tight around her ankles and knees. Her arms ached, a dull pain she could relieve only momentarily by lifting her chest until her stomach muscles weakened and she relaxed forwards again.

A growing sense of terrorovercame Yelena as she knelt, bent over, hooded, gagged and trussed up onthe bench. Though she had become accustomed to breathing within the hood,the recent stress and exertion had caused her to pant heavily and alreadyshe felt her face covered with sweat. By contrast, the rest of her body wasice cold, near-naked as she was. She knew that she was close to what shehad been dreading for hours. About to go through what she had heard beingdone to Natasha, or worse. She tried to pray, mumbling Our Father into thebit, but was so terrified that she found she could not remember the words.

She heard slow footstepsas a man walked around her, surveying she suspected her pathetic and vulnerablestate. He stopped in front of her and grabbed the hood at the top, yankingup her head.

“Now listen to me,corporal,” he began, slowly, chewing his words, making her feel afraidand ashamed. She flinched as a strong hand grabbed her left breast and squeezedit harshly.

“We are going toget to know each other, over time, intimately,” he continued, almostwhispering next to her ear.

“Soon you are goingto tell me all sorts of things. All about your friends and their plans. Abouthow many of my people you’ve killed.” His voice hardened fora moment then eased again.

“And we’llwant to know about you too. Sexual details. About you and…” hepaused and she felt him draw away for a moment. “And Colonel Pavlyn.” Yelena’sheart sank at this and she moaned.

“Yes, the otherslut told us all about the two of you. Naughty girl, aren’t you? Welook forward to you telling us about that. You know, positions, and so on.” Coughing,he cleared the mucus from his throat.

“But first I’mafraid there must be pain,” he continued, in the same calm monotone.Yelena tried to speak. “Oh, I’m afraid it’s quite necessary.Why, you are asking, when you’re ready to tell me everything? Well,frankly, the reason is: because we can.”

At this, he did somethingand she heard a loud crackling near her face. A faint smell of ozone reachedher nostrils through the thick fabric of the hood.

Yelena was by now shakinguncontrollably, the bench and frame creaking as she tried to writhe withinher restraints. Through the noise of blood pumping in her ears, she listenedto the footsteps of the man as he walked around her: he was behind her now.She froze as a hand grabbed her panties and yanked them down over her buttocks,exposing her to all in the room.

Spivak found the mouthof her vagina easily with the tip of the baton. It was cold and hard againsther tender flesh. Stop, she was begging him, but he ignored her and forcedthe thick metal shaft deep into her body. With one hand on her buttocks,he worked it in and out and, as Yelena felt her juices flow, she burst intotears, choking into the bit as she tried to control herself.

“She’s gettingwetter than the other one,” somebody said, approvingly.

“Better fuck herup the arse or she’ll like it too much,” came a reply.

“Later boys, later,” saidSpivak, pushing the baton as far as he could into her body, feeling her yieldas he pressed the tip against her cervix. Several small grooves had beencut into the surface indicating the depth reached in earlier sessions. Henoted that her cunt was small, all but one of the grooves remaining visibleeven as he stretched her forcefully. The action was painful for the girl,as evidenced by her cries of discomfort corrupted by the bit between herteeth.

Setting his jaw, he activatedthe switch on the baton and instantly his victim’s helpless body buckedviolently as pain exploded between her legs. Blood rushed to his cock, stimulatedby the familiar tug he felt as the girl’s vaginal muscles contractedtightly around the shaft, sucking it in. Her muscular back rippling, buttocksquivering, she struggled in vain to escape it, straining the wooden framewhich creaked and cracked. His arousal was heightened by the horrible soundscoming through her hood: a low-pitched scream, distorted as she ground herteeth uncontrollably into the bit, which began full of agony but became increasinglymixed with terror and desperation.

Yelena passed abruptlybetween worlds as the current was turned on and off. While it was flowinginto her, her consciousness was reduced to that of a tortured animal, disorientated,unable to think, existing purely as a grotesque toy screaming and squirmingwhen supplied with electricity. During the intervals between, as she gaspedfor air and filled her eyes with tears, she registered the pain and the damagewhich at first felt physical but, as she would later discover, ran much deeper.With what little strength she could muster she tried to beg for it to stop,tried to control her screams, tried to form words despite the bit. She wantedto tell them that she would do anything, tell them anything but this wasbeyond her and she found her self repeating the same monosyllables over andover again.

After some time, the interrogatorwithdrew the baton from the girl, watching her fall limp as he did. Inspectingher genitals, he noted that her labia were raw and swollen. She was stillconscious and panting heavily. Her pale breasts quivered, dripping. The floorbetween the two wooden planks placed apart, which formed the base of thebench, was heavily spotted with sweat. Picking up a rag he wiped her juicesfrom the implement and turned to his small audience who remained silent andtransfixed by the sight of his victim.

One, drool seeping fromthe corner of his mouth, left hand down his trousers, begged for permissionto fuck her and Spivak could see that they were all ready.

“Patience!” hetold them, as he walked over to a table, dipping his hand into a jar of greaseand smearing it over the tip of the baton before returning. “Let’sloosen her up a little more shall we?”

Placing his left handon the girl’s lower back to steady her, he worked the greased rod intoher rectum, forcing out a grunt followed by further sobs. Despite her weakenedstate, the reflex of her anal muscles resisted briefly, but this was easilyovercome. She began to cough and splutter as he introduced it more deeply.He held the baton in position for a minute or so before proceeding, allowingthe feelings of violation and humiliation develop within her. She was moaningpathetically by the time he activated the device, cutting off her voice brieflyas she lost control again.

The electrical currentsurged through Yelena’s naked, sweat-soaked body, driving spasms alongher bowels from her anus to her throat, emanating waves of searing pain intoher limbs. She was unable to scream to release the pain, even to breathe.Then the source vanished and she was back, gulping in air, recovering hersenses but only briefly before she was made to dance again, and again.

Later, not wishing tobreak her completely, Spivak fought the compulsion to continue and releasedhis thumb from the button, the baton jerking slightly as his victim’smuscles slackened. As he withdrew it, the girl soiled herself, which wascommon. The audience made their disgust known. Attached to a tap on the wallwas a coiled hose, ready for this and other purposes. Turning on the coldwater and parting her buttocks with his free hand, he sprayed her clean,pushing the nozzle a short way into her distended hole.

Yelena, unaware of thisfurther humiliation, sensed vaguely the welcome coolness of the water againsther raw and burning loins. In her stunned condition, she barely recognisedthe sound of the first of them as he loosened his belt and pulled down hiszip. She had feared rape so much but now she accepted it and hung almostinert as one after another they used her cunt and arse. Occasionally thesharp stab of a deep thrust would break through her general agony and shewould emit a brief scream but otherwise she simply sobbed softly during theassault. She passed out before the last had finished inside her.

***

Yelena awoke in terror.Panic overcame her and she began to scream between short gasps of breath.But in time she realised that she was alone, lying on the cold stone floorof a cell. She lay naked on her side, still hooded and gagged, with armschained behind her back, knees bent. As she tried to stretch out and herfeet hit the wall, she discovered that the cell was tiny.

The relief of findingherself alone was soon replaced by sinking nausea as she remembered the agonyand humiliation she had suffered. At least the cold had numbed her body andthe only real pain now was a burning in her rectum. But still she cried out,wailing. In desperation she called for her mother. For moment she imaginedthat she was back at home, years earlier, hoping that her Mama would sooncome to comfort her. But as she listened to the faint screams coming fromelsewhere in the building, she remembered that her only friends had beenparted from her forever and the only human contact she could expect now wouldbe through further torture and rape.

During the hours whichfollowed, she wrestled with the awful thoughts swimming around her head.She ground her teeth against the bit as she endured the noises of the menas they were tortured in turn. And during the silences between, her heartwould jump in anticipation that at any moment they would begin again. Everyso often, she would hear footsteps and catch her breath as men passed hercell. Sometimes she would hear the sound of someone being dragged along thefloor, followed by a metal door being opened and slammed shut somewhere furtheralong.

Inevitably, there camea time when the footsteps paused outside her cell and she heard, with risingapprehension, a key being turned in the lock of the door. Strong hands grabbedher and pulled her to her feet. She found herself unable to support her weightand, as her legs buckled, she was lifted and dragged out. Her sore shouldersagain strained as she was carried by her upper arms down the corridor intoa room.

As she was put on herknees and felt her arms being pulled up and tied, and realised that she wasbeing strapped into the same frame as before, utter panic overwhelmed herand she screamed and thrashed unthinkingly, not even noticing when she kickeda face as someone tried to bind her ankles. “No” was all shecould manage, and she repeated hysterically this until it became a singlelong word.

Unexpectedly, she foundthe neck strap and then the hood being removed and was soon squinting inthe bright light. The bit too was released and pulled out of her mouth. Salivacovered her chin. Gradually, she calmed.

Yelena was afraid to lookaround and so stared down at the floor between the wooden planks on whichshe was kneeling. She examined the black boot of a man standing very closeto her. Abruptly, she was seized by the hair and her head yanked upwards.The man stooped down until his face was level with hers. Catching sight ofhis brutal eyes, she turned away but a sharp pull on her hair told her tomeet his gaze. Looking at him, and recognising his contempt, she at onceknew that he was the man that had tortured her.

His eyes darted down andshe followed them reflexively. In his other hand he held a black shiny batonwith metallic strips inlaid into the surface.

She looked up at him,pleading with him, breaking into waves of tears as she lost her composureagain. He released her hair and as her head flopped down she closed her eyes.When she reopened them she saw that a piece of paper had been placed ontothe bench below her: it showed a number of passport-sized photographs. Sherecognised some of the faces.

“OK,” soundeda voice from above her, “let’s begin by you telling me the namesof all these people. Start at the top left and work your way across. Rankand name. Go.”

Throughout the hours thatfollowed, Yelena needed no coercion to speak. She blurted out whatever sheknew, praying that he would believe her. Always present was the fear thathe might not and hurt her again. But, it seemed, she was convincing. As shespoke, she heard the clatter of a typewriter in the background.

“Good,” concludedthe interrogator, eventually. The typing stopped. She heard the chair movingas the typist stood up and his footsteps as he approached. Then, his handswere on her buttocks and she stiffened and gasped as he eased into her. Hewas not rough and moved slowly, saving himself.

“Now let’sget personal, shall we?” continued the interrogator, standing closein front of her. “Let’s talk about your sexual experiences. Whichhand do you masturbate with?”

God, thought Yelena asshe was rocked back and forth and felt the penis swell inside her. She felteven more disgusted than before.

“Uh…my left,” shemanaged to reply.

“Describe how youdo it,” he continued, and she could hear his arousal in his voice.

“I...I,” shestammered, finding speech difficult as the other continued to rape her. “Irub my…my clitoris.”

“Yes, of courseyou do. But how?” he asked, sarcastically.

”I make circles and…and sometimes I put my finger inside…in my vagina,” she answered feebly, confused and ashamed, letting her head drop.

When she was yanked bythe hair, his erect penis was inches from her mouth. A powerful jerk betweenher legs forced a grunt from her parted lips and he thrust it to the backof her throat, choking her. He played coarsely with her dangling tits ashe fucked her mouth, releasing her right breast to pull her head towardshim, her throat spasming around his glans. Suddenly he withdrew and, herhair in one hand, his cock in the other, he ejaculated over her face witha loud sigh.

Semen still wet againsther skin, the hood was passed over her and strapped in place. Released fromthe frame, and held by a firm grip on each arm, she was able to walk backclumsily to her cell, her head hanging in shame. A hand on her crown forcedher down into the tiny cubicle, and the metal door was slammed shut and locked.

There she lay for manyhours, bewildered and horrified. Mixed feelings of relief and guilt at havingtalked and avoided further torture confused her fragile mind. Memories ofagony and humiliation stabbed at her, triggering spontaneous screams, thesmell of semen filling her hood and the trickle of fluid between her legsproviding a constant stimulus.

Later, these feelingswere finally displaced by more primitive ones: thirst and hunger. Dangerouslydehydrated, she lay still in a near faint. It was almost a relief when thecell door was opened again and she was dragged onto the floor outside. Theman, whom she took to be a warder, pulled her up onto her knees and removedthe hood.

”Thirsty?” he asked, leering at her. God he’s ugly, she thought.

“Please,” shereplied, imploring him.

“Drink up then,” hesaid, unzipping himself and producing a semi-erect cock. Despite the unpleasantness,Yelena swallowed as much as she could while he pissed into her mouth. Atleast it’s sterile, she thought grimly as she gulped it down. She felta little refreshed and strengthened.

“Time for anothersocial call,” he said as he finished. Replacing the hood, he pulledher to her feet and led her away.

***

Her rising fears of theinevitable torture frame were allayed when the hood was removed again butwere replaced by new concerns as she found herself in another room. It wassmall, with a dirty mattress laid down in the middle. Half a dozen men werepresent, all eyeing her with obvious intentions.

“Look at the filthywhore,” said one, young but confident. “Get down on your kneesand get us hard”. He began to unbuckle his belt.

Yelena, feeling slightlybetter, felt a surge of defiance which surprised her. So, they had not brokenher after all, she thought and stood motionless.

The young one looked ather in amazement, then at his comrades, who appeared equally perplexed.

“On your knees Isaid!” he shouted, storming over to her. Yelena flinched but remainedstanding.

She did not see his fistbut suddenly felt a huge blow to the side of her face, throwing her headto one side and causing her legs to fail. She was held up by the man behindher, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her upper arms. She couldhear a loud ringing in her left ear and blood was dripping from her noseonto the floor.

“Come on, let’steach this bitch to crawl,” came a harsh voice and she was draggedfrom the room, men all around her as she stumbled and tried to find her balance.A door nearby was flung open and she was thrown onto the floor of a darkroom. She curled up on her side in a protective ball. Several men were inthe room, moving around noisily.

Two bright white interrogationspot lamps were trained on her, causing her to squint against the harsh light.A loud scraping noise caused her to look up and she saw a man from the otherroom, unshaven and wearing a vest, arranging two stands with heavy basesand fixings halfway up their length. Another, in uniform, stood by the wallinspecting his fingernails. She was aware of the presence of others outsideher field of view.

When the unshaven manwas happy with the arrangement of the stands, he walked over to the girland grabbed her left leg. He produced an iron shackle and clamped it aroundher ankle. She tried to kick him but he was far too strong, and before longhad also shackled the other ankle.

He then dragged her acrossthe floor and proceeded to fix her ankles to the stands which he adjustedso that, lying on her back with her arms underneath her bottom, her legswere bent at roughly right angles. Her feet were about shoulder-width apartand she was glad that they were not any wider –she felt exposed enoughas it was.

It was quiet in the roomand she could hear the breathing of the men. The officer took a cigarettefrom his pocket and lit it with a match. Yelena followed the glowing tipto his lips. The fear rising again, she began to look frantically around.What were they going to do to her?

The answer came soon enough.Looking between her legs, she saw that the unshaven man had produced a thickwooden cane. He stood in the darkness, inspecting her, and she was unableto tell if his bright eyes were looking over her face or between her legs.He tapped the cane firmly into his palm, testing it.

Yelena realised what hewas about to do and, knowing that any protest or pleas would be useless,began hyperventilating, remembering that when she was near unconsciousnessthe pain was lessened. She continued to do so as she watched him take upposition alongside her shackled feet.

Her breathing slowed sharplyas she saw the man flex and move the cane back. Then there was the soundas it cut through the air and the dull thud as it struck hard against thesoles of her feet. At this she screamed in agony and tasted blood as shebit into her lower lip. Her eyes were full of tears as she looked arounddesperately, her mouth twisted by the pain and trauma.

Then he began in earnest.Without pausing for more than a couple of seconds at a time, he beat herrepeatedly, her body jerking with each stroke and contorting in all directionsin a futile attempt to lessen the excruciating pain. The smoking man observedthat she tended to lift her pelvis off the floor just after each stroke,as she tried to straighten her legs and move away from the blows, which allowedhim a good view of her vulva. The room echoed with the woman’s pathetic,child-like howling punctuated only by a sharp sucking in of air with everyimpact.

Again and again the blowsrained on her tender feet and she truly thought she might die from the painuntil at last the man in the vest paused to catch his breath. She stoppedscreaming and began crying uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her cheekswhich were covered with blood from her nose and with dirt from the floor,causing dark lines over her face.

The door to the room wasopened. Thank God, she thought, it’s over. A figure entered the roomclosing the door behind him. From his shape she recognised the young manwho had ordered the beating. He looked over the woman lying on the floor,naked, sobbing, shaking, face swollen and feet bruised and bloody chainedto the posts. She was staring at him with an imploring look in her eyes.He was pleased.

“Continue,” hesaid, casually.

Yelena faded in and outof consciousness as the beating went on and on. Finally, it was over.

As two of the men startedhandling the stands, she thought at last that her torment was at and end.But instead of unshackling her ankles, they merely dragged the two standsfurther apart. Her legs were now splayed wide with her cunt on full view.Looking between her knees, she saw the young man rubbing his crotch vigorously.

Indeed the men were enjoyingthe view. The girl’s pale body was covered with sweat and dirt. Shehad contorted herself so much during the beating that, despite being chainedon her back, her breasts were streaked with black. She was obviously brokenmentally and did not even seem to care that she was exposed in such a crudeway. Her feet were bleeding, and blood ran down her calves and was spottingon the floor.

Again, she realised thatshe was about to be raped. She had no energy to resist them, which wouldin any case have been pointless with her hands and legs chained, and triedto stay calm. Even so, her breathing quickened and her chest started shakingas the first of them approached her unzipping his trousers. Almost immediatelyhe was on top and inside her, thrusting brutally as he grabbed her hair andpulled her head towards him.

The young man watchedimpassively as the prisoner was used by his comrades. When they had finished,he went over and unchained her feet from the posts, letting them drop tothe floor.

“On your knees,” herepeated to the shattered girl. Without any defiance now she tried to comply.Someone helped her up and steadied her. She drifted out of consciousnessand was brought back with a slap to each cheek. When he put his penis intoher mouth she was unable to suck him, despite encouragement, so he fuckedher throat as hard as he could, coming quickly and choking her with his ejaculate.Finishing, he tossed her aside onto the floor where she fell and lay, motionless.

***

During the weeks thatfollowed, Yelena was subjected to relentless abuse and later she would rememberonly fragments of this time. Long periods of isolation and deprivation lyingchained and naked on the floor of her tiny cell were punctuated by burstsof agony and humiliation as she was periodically pulled out to be gang-raped,beaten or tortured. Unable to walk, she would be dragged to familiar roomsand returned later on a crude stretcher to be sealed up again in the darknesswhere she slept, fitfully, semen oozing from her body. Sometimes she wouldbe forced to endure the noises made by her companions as they were workedon, knowing that she would be making the same hideous sounds again beforelong. She would remember too the occasional relief: drinking urine or even,sometimes, water from a bucket maintained by the guards; gulping down coldslop as her head was held in the feeding trough; being hosed down with icywater when they decided she smelled rough; flinching at the sting of theantiseptic applied by the doctor to her wounds to prevent infection.

But generally it was theabuse that she would remember most. To the daily rapes, whether on the dirtymattress, on her knees, or over a table, she became accustomed and inured.But the effect of the torture never diminished. And the sessions went onand on long after she had screamed herself hoarse. Strapped kneeling to theframe, an electric baton in her anus or vagina, a damp rag stuffed in hermouth to stop her biting her tongue. Current surging through her weak, whitebody. Sexual confessions to keep them amused and delay the next press ofthe button. Head held down in a bucket of water as she was shocked or fuckedfrom behind. Hung by her wrists from the ceiling, toes just touching thefloor, flogged across her breasts or back until she passed out to the repetitivecrack of the heavy strap as it bit into her flesh.

There came a time whenYelena heard a commotion outside her cell. Numerous voices and footstepscould be heard outside, and the doors to several cells were being opened.Soon she heard the key turn in hers. As she was pulled to her feet she wasaware of people all around her, orders being barked which, in her dazed state,she could not follow. Her injured feet had recovered somewhat and, thougheach step caused shooting pains in her legs, she was able to hobble, propelledalong by the guards at her sides. She was being taken in a new direction.Suddenly, the sensation of the cold, damp air on her skin and the changein the quality of sound of the footsteps told her she was outside. A fewmore steps and the hard concrete under her feet was replaced by soft ground.

As she was being forceddown onto her knees, she realised that there were others around her: otherbodies, stumbling, chains clattering. She heard a man coughing, a nasty,asthmatic wheeze. None tried to speak. From the sound of their breathing,however, she became aware of at least one person on either side, and othersin front of her, further away. Men walked around them, their heavy bootssinking into the earth. The damp air muffled the sounds, making them seemdetached, insubstantial.

It had begun to rain,and soft droplets soon covered her shoulders, turning into little rivuletswhich ran down her spine and between her breasts. Someone nearby began tosob, a male voice perhaps she thought. The soft ground felt good under herknees and the rain, cloaking her, covering her skin, felt good too, somehowcomforting. She was connected again to the world, gently, softly. It wasa sensation she had almost forgotten.

The peace was broken bya click, faint but audible and unmistakeable. Yelena jerked upright as thesound of the first shot cracked through the air. A hand on her shoulder stayedher and her heart began pounding in her chest. There was a thud as a bodyfell. No one spoke. Two more shots rang out, each accompanied its inevitable,consequential, dull echo. Yelena was shaking, less from fear than pure adrenaline.Then another shot, close to her head, deafening her left ear, and then acrumpling, forward, down.

Yelena felt the hard tipof a gun barrel against the back of her head. She thought she would havebeen ready for this. Quick release at last. But she was not ready to die,and she fought against the hand holding her down as panic overcame her andher terror became so great that she heard it, like a tornado tearing throughher brain.

She heard the click ofthe hammer and waited for the bullet to end her, thinking for a moment thattime had slowed for her in this state. But the bullet never came. The firstimpact she felt was that of a boot between her shoulder blades. As she pitchedforward, her hood came off, presumably held by someone. Falling forward,she saw hooded naked bodies. Then she was among the corpses. Her head layagainst one, a man. Had it not been for the warmth, she would have supposedit long dead. For the skin, crisscrossed with deep black scars, was strangelycoloured, with patches of black and green and purple. She realised that thesewere bruises, and was shocked as she looked down at her own body in the daylightand saw her appearance.

She looked up, towardsthe top of the shallow grave and saw the men standing, laughing at her. Onewas leaning on a spade. She began to scream. Even after they pulled her up,her hysterics continued and they had to knock her out to silence her.

***

After the executions,Yelena’s sessions became less and less frequent. Sometimes she wasleft for days in the cell before being pulled out, near dead with thirstand hunger. When she was raped, it was increasingly perfunctory. The assaultswere as much a part of her life, and as irregular, as her bowel movements.Bent passively over a table, a few quick, hard thrusts into whichever holeappealed, and then up on her feet again. Even the torture seemed to borethem, Yelena by now so weak that would pass out too easily.

It was during this periodthat she was brought to the office of one of the senior officers. Collapsingonto a wooden chair, the hood removed from her head, she found herself ina room the likes of which she had not seen for months. Bright sunlight shonethrough a set of blinds, illuminating every corner. A pleasant smell of tobaccofilled her nostrils. Instead of the familiar bare walls, harsh lighting andtorture equipment, she looked around to see a cluttered administration environment,combined, it seemed, with living quarters: papers piled on filing cabinets,a telephone and fax machine, a kettle and Primus stove near the window, anopen door revealing the foot of a small bed. Eventually her eyes settledon the middle-aged man standing behind a large desk, partially obscured bya cloud of cigarette smoke. He was watching her, eyeing her intently, butfor some reason she did not feel afraid of him.

Yelena was unaccustomedto being seated. The sharp pains in her bottom caused her to shift from buttockto buttock, finally finding some relief by sitting forwards, pushing downon the chair with her hands which were, as usual, chained behind her back.Looking between her legs, she saw that a pool of liquid had formed. She hadbeen incontinent for some time. Afraid that he might be angry with her, shelooked up hesitantly. But he appeared not to notice.

Without speaking, he turnedaway and picked up a tin from a high shelf. Placing it on the desk, and usinga small metal gadget, he proceeded to cut around the rim. As he pulled backthe lid, Yelena caught another fine smell: baked beans. Turning away, helit the stove. Pouring the contents of the tin into a small battered saucepan,he began cooking, now and then testing the beans with his finger. The telephoneon the desk started ringing but he ignored it. After a while it stopped.He did not look back at her. The smell of warm beans filled the room.

Satisfied that the temperatureof the beans was just right, he removed the pan from the stove and broughtit over, placing it on the desk a short distance from her. She noticed aname card: a simple piece of paper folded down the middle and propped upon the desk. The name read: Lt I. Ivashko.

Ivashko perched on theside of the desk next to Yelena.

“Would you likesome?” he asked, unthreateningly. But she was afraid and hung her head,shaking it slightly.

“Go on, it’sgood. I’d like to share it with you.”

His voice was reassuringand the gurgling in her stomach reminded Yelena how malnourished she was.She looked up at him. “Please,” she asked.

He had a small metal spoonin his hand, which he wiped a couple of times on his trouser leg. Dippingit in the pan, he lifted it to her mouth. She watched it rise. There werefive beans on the spoon, and they were steaming. She opened her lips andhe placed them in her mouth. She swallowed, and the shock of hot food forthe first time in so long almost caused her to spit them up again. But sheheld them, and almost at once they were in her stomach, producing a lovelywarm sensation in her chest.

He continued to feed heruntil all the beans had been eaten. Even so, she continued to fix her eyeson the remains of the sauce coating the empty pan. He stood up and took itaway, then returned with a piece of toilet paper and wiped the sticky orangedeposit from her chin and dabbed her breast where it had dripped down. Noticingthe heavy bruising, he was particularly careful and she did not feel anydiscomfort. Yelena sat back, satisfied, sleepy. Ivashkoseated himself inthe office chair on the far side of the desk.

“What’s yourname, dear,” he asked. “Your Christian name?”

“Yelena,” shereplied. He stopped to think for a moment.

“Yelena,” hesaid, “I saw you out there. From my window. When my men shot your comrades.” Thewords triggered pain and her eyes became moist at the awful memory.

“I saw you and then,later, I asked for you to be brought here. Do you know why?” he continued,his face opening up to her.

She knew the obvious answer. “To…tohave sex with me,” she answered, cautiously.

“That’s whatI told them,” he corrected her, “but I’m not going to dothat you.” Ivashko sat back in his chair and picked up a dead cigarettefrom the ashtray, relighting it and drawing hard on the limp tube.

“I have a daughterabout your age. How old are you, by the way?” he added as an afterthought.

“Twenty four,” shereplied.

“Oh. She’sa little older than you I guess. Had her quite young. Anyway, she…Well,she’s a beautiful woman. And thank God she knows nothing of this world,the one we two have to endure. Sent her away, before the war. She’sin IT. Good salary.” As he spoke, a broad smile spread over his wistfulface. Yelena did not reflect his smile.

“You’re someone’sdaughter too. I look at you and think, God, what if you were mine? What ifmy daughter ended up like you? It’s just too awful to think about.” Shethought for a moment he was trying to upset her but he seemed strangely genuine.

“Girls like youshouldn’t be mixed up in this. Look at you, at what they’ve done!They’ve taken everything, haven’t they? And, you know, it’sgoing to get worse for you. They’ll get tired of everyday cruelty andthen they’re going to amuse themselves by tearing you to pieces inworse ways than you or I can imagine. Yes, that is what they are going todo. And why?” he paused in his lecture, rhetorically.

“Why not? That’show men think when there are no rules. They enjoy it. It satisfies them tosee women suffer. They think women like you deserve to be abused and destroyed.They’re kids and they’ve got you to pick on.” He pausedagain, waiting for her reaction. Yelena was absorbing his words.

“Why…whycan’t you…tell them not to?” she asked, hopefully.

“They don’tanswer to me! I’ve just…I’ve taken an interest in you.The commander here –he despises you people, with good reason. Wouldn’teven stoop to rape you. He gets off just knowing you’re here, stillalive, suffering.”

At this, he rose fromhis chair and began to walk around the room. Yelena, whose spirits had beenbuoyed by the good food and kind treatment, began to feel despondent again.She had no doubt that what he said was true: she had learned enough aboutmen’s real nature during the previous weeks.

“I can help you,” hesaid, abruptly, surprising her. “I can get you out of here.”

Yelena could barely believewhat was happening. She had lost hope and now, perhaps, there was some chance.Some possibility of ending this nightmare. She was cautious, because if shewere given a gift like this there must be some great cost. And perhaps thatwould prove too much. But, for the first time since she had entered thisplace, she began to hope.

Ivashko put his righthand behind his back to retrieve something tucked into his belt, and placedit on the table before Yelena. It was a revolver.

Yelena stared at the weaponfor some time, then looked up at him, full of fear and uncertainty.

“I can end it foryou now,” he said, compassionately. “It will be quick and itwon’t hurt, I promise.”

Recovering from her shockat his proposal, Yelena became calm and still. The warmth of the beans wasstill glowing in her stomach. The bright sunlight streamed in through thewindow blinds, forming a vivid pattern of light and shade across the room.The smell of good tobacco filled her nostrils. She was reminded of the smokysmell of her father as he sat with her, helping with her schoolwork, longago, long before he was killed.

The gun was black, heavyand solid. Yes, it would easily dispatch her in an instant. Crush her intonothing. Release her from her ruined body. It was a comforting thought.

But something inside herfought it. Some irrational programming told her that it was simply unacceptable,spiritually, biologically, whatever. That she should rail against this cowardlyoption. She was a fighter after all. For a moment she felt the surge of defiancethat had possessed her just before her first beating.

“I can’t,” shereplied, eventually. “Please. Don’t kill me. I…I’mnot ready.”

Ivashko cast his eyesdown momentarily with a sigh. Then he returned to his chair, sitting downheavily.

“It’s OK,” hesaid, reassuring her. “You’re a tough one. Not always good tobe tough.” He was silent for a long while.

“Anyway,“ hecontinued at last, raising his voice, “we won’t meet again. I…” hisvoice trailed away. Then he picked up the phone, and reported that he hadfinished with her. Soon the door opened and the hood was being pulled overher head, shutting out the sunlight. Then she was on her feet being marchedaway, back to the cells.

Before she was lockedaway, the guard commanded her to stand while he unchained her wrists. Then,instructing her to turn around, he cuffed them together again at her front.A metal door was opened and she was pushed inside, still standing. To hersurprise, she felt the hood being removed before she was pushed forward andthe door slammed behind her. Despite the total darkness of the cell, therelief at the removal of the hood made her almost euphoric and, as she movedtentatively around, she discovered that the new cell was somewhat largerthan the old: enough headroom to stand, and around four square metres inarea. She remained standing, enjoying the opportunity to flex her legs, rollingher shoulders to relieve the stiffness in her joints. Ivashko must have arrangedthis, she thought. She was grateful for this extraordinary kindness.

Over the following days,she had much time for contemplation. The other cells seemed unoccupied andsounds from the rest of the building rarely penetrated the thick steel door.Cold food and water was brought now and then and she was able to feed inher cell. She was even given a bucket in which to defecate and had long grownaccustomed to the smell of her urine which seeped slowly into the concretefloor. She was not tortured at all during this period, and raped infrequently.Either they had grown bored with her or had found some new activity to occupytheir time.

The experience with theLieutenant, unprecedented and unexpected, haunted her as she lay in the darkness.She dwelt on her decision. It was the occasion when she had begun to examineher mortality. Even while enduring the worst of the tortures or when awaitingher execution, she had been so traumatized that she had been unable to thinkcogently. Now she had the time to prepare for the inevitable, for death.She recalled what she could of the Bible, heard Sister Julia’s lessonsagain in her mind. She thought about God’s love for her, the specialplace she had in his heart. About the new life which awaited her, full oflight and warmth and without hunger or pain. She was, she believed, a goodperson. She had killed men and women, in war. Children too, it was true,not personally, she hoped, but she had been part of it. Surely, though, itwas right. The war was just. Knowing now, as she did, about the savagery,the inhumanity of the enemy.

With a start, it struckher that this might be her Purgatory, the place she was forced to face herguilt, to come to terms with it. She had felt it, every time she had killed.God, perhaps this was all to teach her that she should have none. That theyall deserved to be exterminated. Perhaps.

But the more she wrestledwith her religion, the more confused she became and the less comfort it broughther. In the end, the only part of her teaching that made sense was the storyof Job. That, she understood now. Awesome, angry, male God. Making his victimsuffer like a wasp on a skewer. Why? Because I can, he had said. Well, fuckyou, she thought and it came out, aloud. Later, she would be wracked by sobsof loneliness.

Footsteps could be heardapproaching down the hallway. They were somewhat unusual, the pattern morecomplicated, erratic, than the regular steady pace of the guard. When thedoor was flung open, she caught sight momentarily of two silhouettes. Thesecond was unmistakably female, the curves of her hips and breasts outlinedagainst the bright light as she was pushed towards her. The figure lost herfooting and fell forward onto Yelena. Then the cell door was slammed shutand a key turned in the lock. Both women sprang apart and pressed themselvesinto opposite corners of the dark chamber, touching feet briefly before separatingcompletely. Both sat listening to the combined sounds of their breathing,which gradually slowed and softened.

“Yelena?” camea timid, nervous voice. She recognised it immediately. It was Natasha, whowas, of course, dead.

“Yes,” shereplied, noncommittally.

“It’s me.Natasha,” continued the voice with faint despair.

“I know,” Yelenaresponded. This bizarre development had upset her careful, solitary balanceand she was uncertain, confused. She sat for a while, keeping her distance,waiting for something horrible to happen. But nothing did. All was stilland the only sound was their breathing. Then, to her surprise, she brokedown in floods of tears. Clumsily, the two women found each other and kneltembracing, shaking and weeping, in the midst of the darkness.

Later, Yelena sat againstthe wall, her arms around Natasha who lay curled up in her lap, weeping.Her thighs and belly were wet with Natasha’s tears. Slowly, Natasharaised her head, and little by little, moved up her body as if she hopedYelena would not notice. Then Yelena felt her mouth on her right breast.She heard a murmur: “Mummy…” before her lips closed andNatasha began sucking on her nipple, which began to swell. Now she was suckingat it, hungrily, painfully and Yelena pushed her away a little. She slowedher pace but continued.

Yelena felt weird andembarrassed but, seeing Natasha’s distress, allowed her to persist,moving her to her left breast to ease the discomfort. As she sat there, imagesof babies came to her. Earlier, alone in her cell, she had often worriedthat she might be pregnant, a thought that filled her with disgust. She didnot know if she was still having her period. Although she would sometimessee blood on her thighs during her sessions, she could not tell whether itwas due to menstruation or to the abuse of her vagina. But she had reassuredherself that, considering the stress and malnourishment she was suffering,it was most unlikely that she could conceive.

Now she thought instead,wistfully, of the children she would never have. Although she had not beenbroody, she had always imagined she would have two or three, in the future.No, that chance had gone forever, like the rest of her life. Tears filledher eyes.

Natasha had stopped sucklingand had grown still.

“Why do you thinkthey’ve put us here, together?” she asked, all of a sudden. Yelenahad been wondering about this herself.

“Probably they thinkthey can turn us into lesbians, so they can get off on watching us,” shereplied. She felt Natasha nod. Yelena took the opportunity to strike up aconversation.

“You know, Natasha,I thought you were dead. I…I never heard you after, you know. What…wherewere you?” she asked, cautiously.

“I…I…they…” Natashatried to respond. She was unable to say any more and began choking, thenconvulsing as if she was trying to vomit. She broke free from Yelena’sembrace and knelt shaking and retching, a few inches away. Yelena, distressed,moved over and held her gently during the long time it took for her to calmagain.

In the blackness, theynow lay as before. Natasha seemed to be in control of herself again. Theyspoke now and again, in low voices, as if afraid of being overheard.

Suddenly, people wereoutside the door. Then the door was opened and they were pulled apart, outinto the hall.

****

The two girls stood motionlessas their handcuffs were removed. They did as they were ordered, and stood,side-by-side, hands behind their heads and feet apart. When told to stickout their chests, they did so without hesitation. In the darkness behindthe spot lights, the men scrutinised them, commenting crudely. The generalview was that Natasha, on the left, had better tits. But that the other onecould really take a beating, which was considered a strong plus. They weretold to turn around, to bend over and part their buttocks, which they did,stoically. Grunts and cheers came from the audience. “Nasty!” camea voice as they examined the marks on their behinds. The final decision wasthat the one on the left was an eight and the one on the right a seven. “Ingood condition of course” was the qualification.

“Right girls,” theyheard the organiser announce. “Let’s lez it up for the lads,shall we? Come on, you dykes know what to do. And it better be good. Youbetter make us hard. Or you just ain’t gonna believe what we’lldo to you.” Someone blew a whistle.

For a moment the girlsremained still, each trying to pretend that the other did not exist. Thenthey turned to look at themselves. Yelena took in the dark circles aroundNatasha’s eyes, the cuts and welts across her breasts, stomach andthighs, the bruises around her wrists, knees and ankles.

“It’s OK,” saidNatasha, softly, and she moved towards Yelena, raising her hand with care.Yelena flinched a little, but allowed the hand to rest on the side of herhead. Natasha came close.

“It’s OK.We’ll look after each other. Come,” she whispered, and Yelenafelt her breath on her cheek. Then the other girl turned and took her headin both hands, pressing their breasts together. After the roughness of allthe men, the sensation was soft and gentle, and Yelena felt her body tingle.Then Natasha’s lips were on hers and she found herself opening hermouth to her as she shut her eyes. Shouts of approval came from their observers.They remained standing for a while, running their hands over each other’sbacks and buttocks and thighs, careful to respond when a painful spot wastouched. Yelena, losing herself in the tenderness, began to bury her headin Natasha’s neck and hold her more tightly, until subtle pressurereminded her that they were here to display themselves.

Maintaining their embrace,they fell to their knees. Again, a firm hand on her right shoulder told Yelenato lie back onto the floor, which was hard but not uncomfortable, and shesquinted against the bright spotlights. Natasha moved across her, shieldingher from its intensity until she straddled her, breasts swaying close toher face.

“Yeah! Shake thatarse for us, bitch. Stick it in the air!” came a call from the audience.Natasha ignored it and lowered her mouth to Yelena’s left breast. Witha hint of defensiveness, Yelena put her hands around Natasha’s head.She felt her hot breath on the nipple and then it was in Natasha’smouth, rolled and flicked lightly by her tongue. A hand was on her otherbreast, kneading it gently in sympathy. Yelena felt her nipples harden andheat wash over her face.

Natasha did not meet hereyes, but worked her way slowly down the girl’s prone body, circlingher navel with wide arcs of her tongue. Then hands were on her knees, partingthem and she felt cool breath amongst her pubic hair. She cried out a littleas Natasha’s mouth closed on her vulva, which the men interpreted astheir first real sign of sexual pleasure. In fact, it was painful for her,as Natasha at once realised, and began to kiss her gently, blowing cool airon her tender folds.

After a few more moments,Natasha rose and, turning round, positioned herself over her. Yelena lookedup at the dark thatch overhead. Then the other girl was on top of her andYelena squirmed at the intimate contact along the length of her body. Itwas claustrophobic and she felt trapped, almost fighting to get up. But sherelaxed and, as Natasha closed her thighs around her, became enveloped inher soft, curvaceous body.

Because Natasha knew thatthe men could not see what she was doing, and not wishing to cause her pain,she mimed the action of her tongue against Yelena’s clitoris, movingher head in wide, exaggerated circles. At the same time she ground her vulvaagainst Yelena’s mouth and felt her respond, pulling her in with herhands on her buttocks. It felt good as Yelena’s tongue probed intoher vagina and she began to grow wet. Unconsciously, both girls were buckingtheir hips in a slow rhythm. She chanced to lick Yelena’s dry labiaand did not feel her flinch. So she continued, splaying them with her hand,working deeper with her tongue. Yelena had begun to circle her clitoris withher tongue and Natasha emulated this, trying to keep time with the slow,swirling motions. After a while she sensed that Yelena was losing pace andfound her mouth was full of liquid. Against her breasts, Yelena’s stomachwas hard, straining, and her legs were trembling. Suddenly, she came, crushingher with her thighs, muffling her cries against Natasha’s loins.

“Yes!” exclaimeda voice, and then some cheers. Yelena continued to quiver under her and,as Natasha lifted her body, she turned to her side and curled up, sobbing.

Before Natasha was fullyupright, hands grabbed her and forced her again to the floor. Yelena toofound herself surrounded and was flipped onto her stomach. Spreadeagled,pinned down by hands at her arms and ankles, Natasha gritted her teeth asshe was raped. Gritting them against the wails and the screams coming fromthe floor nearby.

***

In the cell, Natasha heldYelena in silence. The latter had not spoken for many hours, despite Natasha’ssoft words as she tried to console her. She seemed ashamed and curled awaywhenever Natasha tried to stroke her hair. Natasha, feeling fluid drippingdown between her legs, was thinking that she could make it through this,somehow. It troubled her that she could now deal with rape so casually. Butit really did not affect her much anymore. Eventually Yelena spoke.

“They’re goingto kill us soon,” she said, blankly. Natasha did not respond.

When the guards came forthem again, they expected to be called on for a repeat performance. But thiswas not to be the case. Side by side, they were frog-marched outside andacross the compound over to a concrete structure which both recognised fromtheir training. It was early morning, and a thin mist hung in the air. Bothgirls began to shiver.

Two men pushed past them,each carrying one of the heavy stands on which Yelena had been bound monthsearlier. They placed them down, exhaling with relief, on the gravel groundbetween two thick concrete partitions. Yelena was afraid and did not lookat Natasha until she heard the sound of chains and turned aside to see themcuffing her wrists behind her back. She looked down at her own bound wrists,fear growing as the girls were separated.

Strong hands held herfast as Natasha was forced to the ground and her ankles shackled to the twostands. With a loud scraping noise, they were dragged apart, spreading herwide, obscenely. Yelena stared embarrassed at her exposed loins, aware nowof how she herself had been displayed to her captors. She noticed that Natashahad raised her head and was watching her, the traces of panic showing inher eyes.

“Who’s gotour little sex toy?” asked one of the men. “Come on, give itto me.”

Holding something, hemade his way forward and stood between her legs, looking down at the girl,who began to shift and struggle against the immobile restraints, her glutealmuscles standing proud against the skin of her outstretched thighs.

Turning back to the restof them, he showed off his toy. At the sight of it, Yelena cried out andfell back, swooning, held up by the solid man behind her. As the blacknessfaded from her eyes, she saw him pull out the pin. Then his back was to herand he was on his knees, forcing his hand between Natasha’s legs, punchinginto her repeatedly, hard. She began to shake wildly, rattling the stands,writhing to escape, screaming hysterically. Suddenly, the man rose and ranback over to them, panting.

They were all about tenyards from Natasha and they all counted the seconds. Natasha now was almostcompletely still, her thighs quivering barely controllably.

Yelena, in shock, wasthrown forwards and stood between them. She heard laughter behind.

“That’s it,darling. Go and get it out. Careful now. You there, keep that cunt tight!” Morecoarse laughter. Her eyes stinging, she half-turned to them.

“For fuck’ssake,” she cried. It was all she could manage.

She approached Natashatentatively. The girl was staring at her, eyes wild, crazy, desperate. Shewas begging for something. Yelena, speechless, was unable to offer any comfortas she knelt down between her legs. She wished that Natasha would stop shakingbut was afraid to touch her.

She could see the shinytop of the hand grenade glinting in the light. It had been inserted so thatthe strike lever was held in place by Natasha’s vaginal wall. ThankGod the spring wasn’t any stronger.

“Don’t move,” shesaid, as sternly and confidently as she could muster. Natasha continued toshake, but was clearly trying to cooperate.

Gingerly, she placed herthumb and forefinger on the gleaming tip, lifting her chained arms together.Spreading the girl’s labia delicately with her left hand, she dippedher fingers further. Natasha was a little wet, a protective response no doubtto the fisting she had just received.

Yelena held her breathas she worked her hand delicately into Natasha’s vagina, fighting herclenched muscles. At last, it closed around the grenade. OK, she thought,exhaling. Hard part over. Then she realised something, with rising apprehension.What if the grenade rotated as she extracted it, or the strike lever sprangopen out of the girl’s vulva? She might just get away, but Natashawould be blown to pieces. There would be no way she could dig it out in time.Oh God, she muttered. She looked up at Natasha, whose head was back and wasstaring into space. She was whimpering and seemed to have lost her senses.

Feeling around the grenade,she manipulated her hand until her palm rested against the dangerous lever.She breathed again, three times, deeply. Then closed her fist tight againstthe metal and pulled sharply. Suddenly, she was looking down at it, her handglistening with Natasha’s juices. She stood up, dumbly,

“Don’t move!” screamedan order, and she froze. “Turn round and I’ll shoot”.

Perhaps, she thought asshe stood looking down at poor Natasha, who was now crying like a baby andappeared unaware of where she was, perhaps I can throw this back before thefirst shot hits. That would be worth it. Quick now, no thinking about it,just do it. For the both of us.

Without warning, Yelenajerked up her arms and released the grenade, ready for the gunfire. But againit did not come. She heard the grenade land with a crackle on the gravelbehind. Peals of uproarious laughter rang out and she sank to her knees,spent. Her head span and she needed to throw up. Then she fainted.

***

Lying in the darkness,Yelena listened to Natasha’s hysterical wails which failed to diminishin intensity with time. She had tried to hold her as she heard Natasha scrapingher nails against the rough wall but the girl had shaken so violently ather touch that she had withdrawn into the corner.

She still felt sick atthe memory of the afternoon’s game. Both at the horror at what hadtaken place, and the now inescapable knowledge that what Ivashko had saidwas soon to come about. She knew that they were both near the end. To hersurprise, she felt ready to die now. Listening to Natasha’s near-insanecries, she finally acknowledged that life held nothing for her. Let it comequick, she prayed, without confidence.

Footsteps could be heardagain outside the cell door.

The girls again foundthemselves standing, hands behind their heads, displaying their bodies underharsh lights, in the same room where earlier they had made love in frontof their captors. Dark shapes moved around them as the men settled down.But already Yelena could sense a different atmosphere to that of the previous,voyeuristic exhibition. Something in the men’s voices and movements,indistinct but sinister. Her chest was trembling slightly as she looked downbetween her breasts to her feet. She was afraid to look at Natasha.

“Well, bitches,we’ve been here before haven’t we?” began the self-appointedhost in a menacing voice. Yelena swallowed.

“We want to seeyou whores get it on. We enjoyed that didn’t we lads?” he continued,to scattered murmurs of agreement.

“This time, we’renot here to see those tongues in those slippery cunts. No, we want to seefists and teeth. You’re going to show us your soldiering skills. Agood, dirty fight.” The others applauded enthusiastically.

“Fight’s overwhen one of you stays down for ten. Understand? Winner…gets to suckme off first,” he announced, to general laughter.

“Loser gets to spendthe rest of the day with me and my friend Herr Bosch.”

As he said this, he raisedhis hand and waved a large tool in the air. For a moment, the outline washard to make out but when he squeezed the trigger the familiar whirring noiseinformed both girls that he was brandishing an electric drill. Natasha beganto choke and was soon racked with a fit of coughs.

“Good…soyou see there’s something worth fighting for. OK, cunts, five pacesapart, face each other. Now!”

The girls let their armsfall and moved away, taking up their positions. Yelena looked over at Natasha,who looked ready to collapse. It would not be much of a fight. Natasha lookedup at her, full of despair. “I can’t…” she whispered.

“Yes you can, girl” Yelenawhispered back, cutting her off. “Come on, let’s make it lookgood and maybe it’ll be OK.”

“Begin!” boomeda loud voice, and someone blew the whistle.

Yelena strode over toNatasha and, taking her by the shoulders, shook her hard, then pushed herback. The girl stumbled to regain her footing.

“Get with it, bitches!” shoutedthe host. “Fight properly or you’ll both be getting it.”

Yelena slapped Natashahard across the face. This seemed to rouse her and she lunged forward, pushingher away. Yelena made a fist, making sure Natasha saw it early, and dartedher eyes at her opponent’s stomach, signalling. She saw the musclestense before she drove the punch home. Natasha doubled over, but remainedstanding, catching her breath.

“Come on, kick herin the head!” shouted someone from the shadows. Yelena jumped at her,locking her arm around her neck, hand on her breast, twisting her.

“You’ve gotto fight me,” she whispered before throwing her away from her body,elbowing her in the face accidentally as the other broke free.

Natasha screwed up hereyes and, growling between clenched teeth, ran at Yelena, tackling her tothe floor. Falling down on top of her, she lashed out clumsily with her fists,punching Yelena hard in her breasts, causing her momentarily to see stars.To defend herself, she in turn brought up her knee sharply between Natasha’slegs, digging it into her soft flesh and knocking her aside.

Getting to her feet, pantingheavily, she looked down at Natasha who was now on all fours. She kickedher in the ribs with her heel, not hard enough to break a bone but hopefullyenough to satisfy their tormentors. Natasha rolled onto the floor.

”That’s not good enough,” came an almost sing-song voice. “Kick her in the cunt!”

Yelena looked down atNatasha. She was bleeding from her nose and tears were streaming from hereyes. Her pale, emaciated body showed the scars of months of physical abuse.It looked as if they had been even more brutal with her, perhaps becausethey found her more attractive. She held her hand between her legs, feeblytrying to protect herself. Looking up at Yelena, she mouthed the words: “Ican’t”.

Yelena stood, immobile.She could not bring herself to hurt her again. She heard the voices of themen, baying for blood. The sound of the drill, whirring, threatening. Fora moment she had a vision of Natasha, strung up, inverted, like a slab ofmeat, her blood draining from a dozen holes, still conscious.

In that moment she madeher decision. And in an instant she had Natasha by the hair, punching herhard in the face, letting her head fall, splattering blood over her, aiming,bringing her heel down with all her strength onto her throat once, twice,and again.

“No! No!” sheheard a male voice cry out through the rush of blood in her ears and shecontinued until she was pulled off the lifeless girl and thrown aside.

“She’s dead,” exclaimedsomeone in stunned surprise. For the moment no one looked at Yelena as theycrowded round the body. Then the first turned around, his eyes gloweringdown at her.

”Bitch killed her. Fuck. Well I’ll be fucked. Quite a firecracker, aren’t you, when you get going.” He gazed at her, slightly awestruck. Then he shook himself. Looking over his shoulder he called out.

“Hold her down forme. Careful now.”

Men were around her. Againshe was forced onto her front, a man holding out her arms and others stretchingher legs apart. A few moments passed while he loosened his clothing and thenhe was on her. She felt his thick cock as he fumbled between her buttocks.Then with a single hammer stroke it was in her rectum and he began to pumpher hard, as roughly as he possibly could, tearing at her insides. She chokedwith each thrust but took it as she had learned to, screwing up her eyes.Opening them she looked to her side and saw the others playing with Natasha’scorpse. Three had lifted it up off the ground to waist height and anotherwas fucking it. Then they dropped it to the floor with a thud and, laughing,another began to abuse it from behind. The men holding Yelena down abandonedher and crowded over the corpse.

Rage grew within her asshe continued to be sodomised. Blood, everywhere she looked she saw blood,boiling, spurting, covering the walls. The same berserk force overtook herand she saw Natasha’s bloody face as she had brought down her foot.With a loud grunt, the man ejaculated into her bowels and immediately pulledout, tearing at her tissues with his swollen glans as he did. Yelena rosetoo, twisting, her elbow making contact with his nose which yielded witha squelch. He knelt upright in surprise, yelping, bringing his hands to hisface. Yelena threw herself at him, knocking him back to the floor. Otherhands were on her now, but she had his hair in hers. And before they couldgrab her other arm, she drove her thumb into his eye socket. A wild screamechoed around the room and as they pulled her off she saw that his eyeballwas out, dangling on its stalk. The other was flicking about as he emptiedhis lungs. Blows came at her from all directions, pummelling her into a pulp.She was on the floor, trying to roll into a ball but someone had her legsand then a heavy boot struck her chest and again and then it was all over.

***

Yelena came round veryslowly and several minutes passed between her first flicker of consciousnessand the point at which she could begin to make out the blurred features ofher surroundings. She was in a small whitewashed bare room, a cell, dimlyilluminated by light from a small barred window high above her. Her backpropped against the wall, feet out in front of her, she was unable to moveher lower body more than a twitch. Breathing was difficult, a sharp painstabbing her in the ribs with every inhalation. She looked down at herselfand saw that her breasts were streaked with dried dark liquid. The flooraround her was sticky and, with great effort, she raised her left hand alittle to discover that she was lying in a pool of blood. For a long timeshe lay there in silence, taking short, shallow breaths, waiting to die.

Suddenly, all hell erupted.A bell sounded down the corridor, followed almost immediately by a near-deafeningsiren. She heard men running, shouting, barking urgent orders and receivinghasty acknowledgements. She heard vehicles and machinery outside, springinginto life. Something, she thought wearily, is going on.

At some point, againstall this background noise, she made out the unmistakable signature of a helicopter,multiple helicopters, near, overhead. Almost immediately, the first explosionshook the building. Then, a salvo of rockets, whooshing in all directionsand detonating everywhere. Plaster, shaken from the ceiling, fell to thefloor near her feet. She heard automatic gunfire, distant, chattering fromside to side.

There was someone in thecorridor outside. She heard a steel door being flung open some way alongfrom her. Then almost at once, more automatic fire: a short burst, very near.More footsteps, hurried, then another door yanked open. Another burst. Thenagain. She heard the sliding of metal, and the key in the lock this time.Gunfire. Even closer now. The room next to hers. The metal sliding, thenback again. No key turning. Then outside her door.

The metal plate set intothe door slid back and she stared momentarily into another pair of eyes.Then they vanished and she heard the tinkle of keys, then one in the lock.She saw the bolt move. The door was kicked open and he stood there, the soldier,frightened expression on his face, looking at her, darting his eyes alongthe corridor, then looking back.

He aimed his AK at herand fired. There was an anticlimactic click. “Shit,” he saidto the weapon. Fumbling, he ejected the spent clip and reached for another.

A loud explosion shookthe building, causing him to stumble. Then, almost immediately, she feltthe pressure wave on her face and then the flash of another detonation asthe wall behind him shattered, sending pieces of masonry flying towards them.The soldier, still fiddling with his weapon, was picked up and cast towardsher, looking up stupidly for a fraction of a second before he was on topof her, absorbing the force of dozens of pieces of rubble as they raineddown upon them.

An acrid smell hung inthe air and the room was full of dust. For a moment, the space around herwas calm and still. The soldier twitched on top of her, groaning. He wascrushing her, making it even harder to breathe.

“Get off me,” shechoked. He heard her, tried moving his head to one side, but just continuedto groan.

Yelena’s left handretained some degree of function and, as the two of them lay in their ghoulishembrace, she explored with it. She found his hip and trouser leg. And thebutt of his pistol. Awkwardly, painfully, she manipulated it out of its holsterwith her thumb and forefinger. After many minutes, during which the man continuedhis irritating groaning, she managed to get it out and drop it to the floor.Then the exertion and the pain overtook her and she faded out.

She came round some minuteslater. Nothing appeared to have changed. After further efforts she had thegun in her hand, although she doubted she would be able to lift it. She feltfor the safety, which was off.

While she was unable toraise it from the floor, she managed to get it upright, resting on the butt,angling the barrel sideways and upwards. As soon as she had it correct shesqueezed the trigger. Satisfyingly, the gun recoiled in her hand and sheheard a muffled crack as the bullet buried itself in the soldier’sside. “Uh…” was his only comment.

It took several more minutesfor him to die, leaking over her, but at last he let out his final breath.Yelena smiled and, spent, closed her eyes and waited. Time passed.

***

She was awoken to thesound of footsteps in the room. Another soldier, heavily armed, was inspectingthe devastation. From his uniform, she recognised him as one of her own.He was not damaged. She watched him as he peered down at them, no hint ofa reaction on his set face. He looked aside, turning away from them. Thenhe shot a glance back and she saw realisation on his face. Suddenly, he camealive. Dropping his weapon, he fell on them, pulling the dead soldier fromher. The relief as the weight was removed was immense and she let out a smallsigh. She would like to have waved, but found she was completely unable tomove.

He looked at her, hisface betraying the awful sight she must be presenting. His mouth contorteditself but he could find no words for her.

Then he was in motion,shouting, running out of the room. “A survivor! We’ve got a survivor.Help! Medics!” His voice faded away.

Alone again in the emptyroom, Yelena mulled over his words. A survivor. Hah. Now that was an unexpectedturn of events. She was a survivor, somehow. That was not going to be easyto get her head around.