Sexpionage 6 - A Suffusion Of Yellow free porn video

An example of life at the Villa Grimaldi – Pinochet’s torture HQ ...

The widespread use of sexual violence against detainees, blindfolded at all times, prompted its macabre name of Venda Sexy (Sexy Blindfold), allegedly coined by perpetrators. Women were particularly targeted for sexual abuse suffering rape, forced pregnancies, abortions and sexual slur. A German Shepherd dog called Volodia was trained to rape inmates, and female and male prisoners were subjected to beatings, hangings, electric shocks, Russian roulette, asphyxia and deprivation of sleep, among many other torture methods. Prisoners called the secret detention centre La Discothèque due to Pinochet’s agents blasting out loud music at all times.

Diseñada como Villa Grimaldi somewhere in Santiago, Republic of Chile

“My name is Yulia Jelic, and I am a dancer.”

“Liar.” The voice cut through Yulia’s protestations with the violence of a whip lash. “Tell me the truth! Tell me why you are here in Santiago!”

Yulia licked her parched lips and swallowed before answering, hoping the small delay would give her time to keep her voice even.

“I’ve already told you this” – she craned her head in the direction she believed the voice was coming from – “I am Yulia Jelic …”

She heard footsteps and sensed the man come closer. When he spoke, his mouth was close to her ear. The sensation of his breath on her neck made her hair stand on end and her skin crawl.

“You are a liar,” he said, his voice lower and harsher. “We’ve been watching you Miss Jelic. You are working for those Russian bastards. You are a member of the SVR. Admit the truth.”

A hand slammed onto the table Yulia was seated at. She jumped in alarm, but her wrists were securely cuffed behind her and the chair was pushed close, giving her little room to manoeuvre.

“You will admit it … sooner or later …” Another thump on the table. From the change in tone, it sounded like a fist now rather than an open-palmed slap. Yulia wondered how soon it would be before the next thing to be on the receiving end of that hand would be Yulia herself. She’d already been slapped harshly when she had fought against the two men who had dragged her from her bed.

They’d cuffed her and put a heavy cloth bag put over her head then carried her kicking and screaming from the building. She had been thrown into the back of a car and driven for what felt like miles to wherever, and then dragged into the room she was in now. whereupon the bag had been removed and Yulia had been ordered to stand under blindingly fierce lighting while she was bellowed at repeatedly.

After an hour or more, her legs threatened to give way. When she had then been shoved forcefully onto the wooden chair, despite being blindfold, it had almost come as a relief.

“What you say is not true,” she said as firmly as she could manage.

Silence.

Yulia tensed, holding her breath. The next voice to speak was unfamiliar. Also male, but higher than the first and with a much more pronounced Spanish accent to his English. Yulia imagined him to be younger than his colleague.

“Your whole plan has been discovered. Even now your associates are admitting the truth under interrogation. Tell the truth and your life might be spared.”

“There is no network,” Yulia insisted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m just a dancer.”

“You are a liar and a whore, Chica. Your network was betrayed. Perhaps you were the one responsible for the betrayal?” The second voice was quieter now, but more menacing for it. Yulia almost denied she would ever do such a thing, but caught herself. Protesting she was not a traitor would be tantamount to admitting there was someone and something to betray.

Another chill raced up her back. That had been close, but she was becoming too disoriented to think straight. She shivered, partially from fear but also because wherever she had been taken was more than a little chilly, and she was still dressed in nothing but a short cotton nightgown. She flattened her bare foot against the floorboard, grounding herself with the sensation of the wood knots against her toes. She had been hauled from her bed without any idea of what time it was, but her sleep had felt so unusually deep, she wondered if she had been drugged.

Yulia tried to remember everything her training had covered about arrest and interrogation. Admit nothing. Deny all knowledge.

“Tell us what you know of A Suffusion of Yellow,” the first voice commanded.

“Is that a nightclub?” Yulia asked. “Not one I’ve ever danced at.” Her reward for the deliberately insolent answer was a ringing slap across her cheek and she gasped with shock and pain. Despite her determination not to show emotion before her interrogators, she felt tears swimming in her eyes. She was grateful they were quickly soaked up by the rag of a blindfold she wore before they could make their way down her cheeks.

“You have never heard of a Suffusion of Yellow? Tell me the names of your contacts. Who is the courier? Who handles you in Santiago? Which SVR Comrades are you working with?”

“I’m telling you everything I can,” Yulia said, her voice trembling. She doubted that slight tremor would be enough to soften her captors’ hearts, but she would try anything. “I am just a dancer. I grew up in Zhodzina in Belarus, it is near to Minsk. I came to the USA to live and work and then moved down to Chile because I heard the clubs needed more girls. I don’t know of any Suffusion of Yellow. I don’t know any comrades or couriers, I don’t even know what they are. You have to believe me!”

The cover story was easy to remember, she had used it several times before.

“A cheap little slut like you hardly seems the type to consider a better life in the USA, never mind here in Santiago … not unless you were sent for a purpose.”

Yulia gave a small groan, an idea coming to her. “Please, I may be with-child. Don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt my child.” If her hands were free, she would have cradled them over her belly for emphasis, but the cuffs ground into her wrists whenever she tried adjusting the position of her arms. She began to sob loudly in great, dry heaves, conjuring everything from her past that had ever caused her sadness; the death of her father, her disastrous love affairs, her first pet dog from when she was a child. She forced tears to her eyes, this time hoping they would fall down her cheeks, where they might be seen as evidence that she was telling the truth. Finally, she let her outburst subside to the occasional sniffle. The men had been silent while she sobbed, but without her sight, she could not guess what affect her performance was having on them.

“You think you are pregnant huh? So, you are a fond of men, are you, Chica?” She felt breath on her face as a hand gripped her knee, fingers pointing towards her inner thigh. Yulia bit back a cry of revulsion as the warmth of the man’s hand spread through the thin cotton nightdress.

“Would you like to get to know me a little better and then I could really put a seed in your whore’s belly? I wonder what I could make you tell me if I was inside you.” Yulia bit the inside of her lip and remained still. Don’t let them think rape was the key to loosening her tongue. For the first time, her fear was replaced with contempt; they would try to use sex as a weapon, of course they would. The hand moved beneath the hem onto the flesh of her thigh, squeezing lightly, then abruptly lifted.

There was silence again, before the second voice spoke once more.

“Do you drink, Miss Jelic?” Yulia licked her dry lips, relieved that they had decided, for the moment at least, and despite quickly seeing through her ‘pregnancy façade’ that an assault was not the best course of action.

“Occasionally,” she admitted. “There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?” Yulia added wishing she had a large tumbler of whisky to hand. There was the scrape of a match and then the smell of tobacco. One of the men – she couldn’t tell which – took an audible drag on what she could smell was a cigar and blew smoke in her face.

The fumes were overpowering, and she retched. Then she felt a bright spot of heat grow close to her cheek, dancing over her skin. Panic flared brighter than the tip of the cigar and coursed through her veins.

“How much do you think it would hurt if I ground this into your eye? Unless you tell me what we need to know, that’s what I will do.”

Yulia pulled her head as far back as she could, straining against the back of the chair. “What do you know about a Suffusion of Yellow? This is your final chance before I pass you to my colleagues so they can loosen your tongue. They will not be as tolerant as we have been.”

The SVR Agent grew cold. The rumoured methods of interrogation used by the Suffusion of Yellow terrorist network were supposed to be taken from the text books of Pinochet’s regime forty years earlier.

Through her panic and coldness, the stiff joints and pain, Yulia slumped in her seat. She was exhausted, yet she knew her ordeal had only just begun. She lifted her head and sat as straight as she could, the blindfold still denying her sight. In the steadiest voice she could muster, she spoke.

“I have nothing to tell you. My name is Yulia Jelic and I’m a dancer.”

A few days earlier, in the Departamentos P Apartment Building, Barrio Lastarria, Downtown Santiago, Republic of Chile

Yulia stood in the hallway talking with the woman who had presented herself as the landlord.

“I can pay now,” Yulia said. “I can give you a month’s rent in advance.” The SVR Agent had arrived in Santiago with just enough money to substantiate her cover story.

The woman’s eyes lit up, and Yulia was warmly ushered up to a small room on the third floor. Like many buildings of its type, the ground floor was given over to the private rooms.

At one end, there was a cast-iron bedframe and mattress, and a dressing table, closed off by a threadbare curtain. It looked like a room out of Russia in the darkest days during the early parts of the Cold War. The other end of the room contained a table and a wooden chair. A single ringed oil stove was just big enough to heat a pan of water or milk. It was a far cry from her family home in Russia, even the neat and tidy two bedroomed apartment she had in Washington. This was basic.

Nevertheless, it would certainly suffice and help her get by as nothing but a young dancer needing work. The room contained no windows but had a skylight set at an angle in the roof. Yulia opened it as wide as she could to let some air inside, then went to the tiny bathroom on the corridor, and could hear someone humming a tune. At least she wasn’t alone. Yulia decided, as she climbed into the narrow bed, and settled down for the night, to try and get a little sleep …

Club Kim, Enrique Mac Iver 187, Santiago, Republic of Chile, 10pm

Club Kim was a Strip Club.

“Bastards,” Yulia muttered to herself, cursing that her whole brief had been set up by the centre to operate from here. They had provided her with ‘cover’ as a stripper, and she could imagine the grins on the faces of her colleagues at the Centre as they were establishing her ID and backstory. Inside this establishment was her contact, and this is where she would be working as a dancer, though how much actual dancing she would be doing was open to question … At least she could dance, if required. Not only had it been a part of her training at the Academy in Moscow, Yulia had trained as a ballerina until she reached the age of seventeen, which was not all that long ago.

The club stood halfway up a narrow road on a hill leading away from the Mapocho river, it looked smart from the outside, and was double-fronted in one of the three-storey buildings that lined the street.

Neon Lights highlighted the ‘Club Kim’ sign as Yulia cautiously entered. Her first encounter was with the young girl on the door, who looked at her in a very suspicious way. The SVR Agent was ‘dressed to impress’ in a particularly revealing dress, and five-inch heels.

“You Dancer?” The door-girl said, “… or lesbian?”

Her candid approach took Yulia by surprise.

“Oh, yes I’m Dancer,” she grinned in response, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Then through there. Sit at small table alone. He will see you in a few minutes …” the girl looked Yulia up and down, then nodded, “He will like you.”

If she had been in Russia, before being recruited to serve the Motherland, Yulia would have turned her nose up at any suggestion that she spend an evening in a place like this. But, she reasoned, existing as a disreputable dancer might mean that she would stand less chance of being discovered for who she really was.

Yulia pushed the door open ever so slightly and was greeted by the sound of laughter from the main club into which she had clearly walked. Club Kim was hectic tonight. She hesitated, wondering if the middle of a busy evening was the best time to try to make contact with her man, or whether she should return tomorrow when there would be fewer witnesses to the conversation she needed to have.

She was still wavering indecisively when voices speaking Spanish turned her head. A quartet of men was making its way towards her. Yulia tensed, recalling where in her brief it had described the brutality of the torture that she may encounter if she was discovered. Had she been found out already?

They walked two abreast as one in the first pair nudged his young companion and gestured towards Yulia. The two walking behind spoke in Spanish to each other, laughing. It was obvious to Yulia that the young man was being teased and that she was the subject.

Her Spanish was more than passable, it really had to be, and so she offered them a simple smile before looking away again.

“Are you available Chica?” asked the man who had begun the joke.

“No, sorry, I’m just here … looking for a job.”

“Oh, she is waiting for you, Enrique,” said the oldest of the group to one of his compardres, and stepped aside to let a larger, thicker set man – presumably, ‘Enrique’ – pass him

“Maybe she is waiting for all of us,” Enrique replied. Yulia’s skin prickled. She could probably fend off one man maybe even two, but not four. She hid her revulsion and gave him a smile, hoping it was just bravado, especially if he was supposed to be the guy in charge. Was he her contact?

His smile disappeared and he pointed at a door off to Yulia’s right. Without replying, she opened the door and stepped inside. She was taken aback, thinking this would be a private room. However, the space went much further back than it appeared from the outside, indeed it looked like another main room. Small circular tables were set for couples or groups in front of both sides of the door and throughout the room. Most were occupied.

A raised stage area ran along the left side of the room. The bar covered the back-right-side wall. Between them was an archway covered with a pair of burgundy velvet curtains. The intense odour of cologne and perfume added another layer to the atmosphere, and beneath that were the smells of warm bodies and alcohol. It was sleazy and exciting.

Enrique had followed Yulia inside letting the cool air accompany them.

“Well, Chica?” asked Enrique, raising his eyebrows towards the Agent.

“Is it my night of fortune?”

“Not tonight, Sir. I am too tired from my walk here.”

Code words spoken, Enrique nodded and indicated that Yulia should move through another door, into what, this time, was very much a private room, where the floor was carpeted and the chairs were high backed leather.

“Sit.” His tone was assertive and filled with brevity. She sat.

“Listen carefully. Last year the Embassy of the Motherland here in Santiago received a bomb threat. It turned out to be false, but following similar threats to our Embassies in Argentina and Brazil we had reason to believe that while there might have been no threat of an actual bombing, the calls were made as part of a larger, more sinister programme. A terrorist group called A Suffusion of Yellow claimed responsibility and last month that same group daubed its name on the front of the Embassy. We have reason to believe that the programme, whatever it is, is about to kick off, and we here in Santiago will be the first to be hit.”

Yulia listened intently and nodded appropriately, before speaking.

“I understand, and so what is my part in this?”

Enrique leaned across the table. “There is a man, his name is Valdez. He visits the club regularly and we have reason to believe that he is linked to this group, maybe even one of its leaders.”

“What reasons?” Yulia asked.

“You don’t need to know the reasons Chica, you just need to …”

Now Yulia really was listening. “Need to what?” She questioned.

“You will start working for me in this club immediately,” Enrique continued, leaving the previous sentence unfinished. The other girls will think you have been sucking my dick in here or doing whatever it took to get the job. So, they will immediately think of you as one of them.” Enrique’s grin was revolting to her, when she thought of the other girls actually sucking his dick just to get a job as a stripper!

He wasn’t actually going to ask her to suck him off … was he?

Thankfully he didn’t.

“When Valdez is next here you will dance for him in VIP room and then offer to go home with him, where you will search for evidence of his involvement, and any more information on A Suffusion of Yellow.”

“I’m not a prostitute!” Yulia was indignant.

“You are whatever the Motherland requires you to be Agent Jelic.”

Yulia closed her eyes and sighed.

“Come back tonight at 8pm. Can you dance?”

Yulia laughed, “Yes I’m trained as a dancer, but what you really mean is can I take my clothes off while I’m doing it?”

Enrique nodded.

“I guess we’ll find out tonight.” Yulia replied.

Club Kim, 11pm on Yulia’s first Night

Her shorts flew off her, revealing a skimpy white lace thong to the roar of the crowd as she seductively worked the pole, her back arched giving glimpses of her bare ass, her long, untied blonde hair fanning out as she swayed to the song.

As the music slowed, Yulia extended her body out perpendicular to the pole, her legs splitting wide before the crowd who cheered, amazed and awed at her physical strength and seductiveness as she slowly lowered herself to the stage as the song ended.

As the second song came on —The Clash’s ‘Straight To Hell’ — (It turns out that then Clash were a huge influence in Chile during the Pinochet years, when the underground rock scene exploded in Santiago) Yulia began strutting across the stage, moving her body in rhythm to the beat. She was well trained and soon discovered that lap dancing and stripping was just another form what she was trained to do.

Valdez was in tonight and he was watching her … waiting, she hoped, for her to finish.

Walking forward to a group of guys waving bills Peso bills, Yulia bent forward, pressing the cleavage formed by her breasts encased in the tight white top into the face of the front row while she slowly turned her head towards Valdez, her hips swaying to the beat of the song.

With her attention momentarily on her target, several guys took the opportunity of stuffing money into her top, while others inserted notes into her thong.

She felt like she should acknowledge them and their ‘generosity’, but tonight she just stared at Valdez, allowing the other guys to take their liberties with her as they left hands on her body just a little too long. A few of the more daring sliding their fingers down the inside of her top, to feel her breasts before Yulia pulled away.

She wanted to rile Valdez, make him feel like she was being shared around but not with him. She needed him to want her. By the look in his eyes she had succeeded!

Finally turning her attention back to the guys in front of her, Yulia slowly bent backwards to the roar of the crowd around the stage as those in the front got a nice view of her exposed crotch perfectly outlined by the snug fitting thong as she arched her back, and writhed lasciviously for the adoring audience.

At some point the lap-girls sitting on each side of Valdez disappeared, and now his attention was all on Yulia as she strutted in front of the group of guys cheering her on.

As the music throbbed to an end, Yulia finished with her legs wide apart as she did the splits on the stage, again arching her back away from the crowd, her limbs stretched out in a perfect line as her torso was torqued backwards. Suddenly her hands rose over her body holding her top, to loud, anticipatory cheers. With pure strength she straightened her torso up, her arm over her chest covering her breasts as she threw the flimsy fabric behind her to the delight of the crowd.

Axel Thesleff’s 'Bad Karma’ came on as she got up from the floor, strutting her hips again while her arm still covered her breasts. Yulia began swaying seductively, moving rhythmically to the beginnings of the song. Her arms alternating back and forth, still hiding her breasts, encouraging the whoops and cheers.

Finally, Yulia, or Diamond as her stage persona introduced her, slowly smiled and seductively raised both her arms over her head, exposing her breasts fully to the crowd while her hips continued to gyrate.

Slowly, sensually she moved her hands across her stomach, then upwards to cup her breasts as she rocked, bouncing one after the other, alternating them to the beat of the song. Swaggering towards the crowd, she pulled one guy into her chest as others reached out to insert Pesos into her thong. Yulia looked over at Valdez and then turned around, bending down, her crotch only inches from the face of one guy, who grinned like a kid in the candy store as he took the 5,000 bill in his hand and pulled the crotch of Yulia's thong out, blatantly shoving the money between it and her pussy.

Even from his angle Valdez could tell Yulia was turned on. When the guy held up a finger to his and his buddies' noses, Valdez could see it glistening with Yulia’s juices – he had to have her!

The under-cover Agent turned back to the pole, virtually naked, spinning on it to the music, swaying to the beat, as she danced for the crowd's delight.

It turned out that Agent Novikova was in fact a very good stripper!

She continued to work the pole, undulating her body up and down the shining steel rod, humping it, jerking it, making love to it. It drove the crowd wild, and one man in particular was a little more wild than the rest.

Moving away, Yulia slowly lowered herself towards the crowd until she was on her knees, thrusting her crotch forward and back, humping the stage to the heavy beat while she pulled the sides of her thong up her hips with her hands, splitting the lips of her pussy for all to see ...

Valdez' Apartment at Park Araucano, Downtown Santiago

It was almost becoming light again by the time Yulia left Valdez’s apartment, almost but not quite ... and she was not alone. When he was done fucking her and using her body to his aggressive, arrogant satisfaction, Valdez insisted that she was driven home by one of his ‘men’

“It’s fine, really,” Yulia had protested, “Puedo conseguir un taxi …”

But Valdez would not hear of it, and so she was to be accompanied home, and his men were under strict instructions to watch and keep her safe until she was actually inside her apartment building.

The Russian Agent had become suspicious when Valdez, his fingers buried deep inside her naked body, had said something about Pinochet and how ‘when such a dictatorship returns’ girls like Yulia would be used as ‘fuck-toys’ for the military. She had thought it a random and somewhat vicious comment, but fortunately her gasping response was heavily influenced by the additional finger he pushed deep into her pussy …

Yet why had he made such a statement? It was careless of him, or maybe it wasn’t. Yulia could not be certain of how she had reacted beyond the sensation of being savagely fingered, and wondered if she just might have fuelled any suspicions, that he had about her.

And as Yulia sat up in bed leaning on the steel frame of her bed head, pondering her situation, she realised that now he knew exactly where she lived!

Departamentos P Apartment Building, Barrio Lastarria, Downtown Santiago, Republic of Chile

Yulia lay on her bed, on top of the sheets, huddled in a foetal ball, wearing nothing but her thin nightdress. The meagre covering made her feel even more vulnerable … it had only taken one night, the first night, for Valdez to visit the club, and now here she was huddled in a shivering ball uncertain what to do.

Should she contact Enrique? But if she did, and somehow, she or her room, had been ‘wired’, then such contact could give away the entire Russian SVR Operation here in Santiago. Despite Yulia being convinced that she had been compromised, there was no way she could put any emergency procedures into place just yet.

But as she lay in the dusk and night began its early metamorphoses into morning, Enrique’s words came back to haunt her.

“You must be careful Yulia, the bastards inside A Suffusion of Yellow are extremists, followers of Pinochet’s doctrine. They want a dictatorship to rule in Chile, and they want Russia out of the way.”

Yulia squeezed her eyes shut as more of Enrique’s words came into her head, “Pinochet’s followers practice his interrogation methods too … so you MUST not be caught. If you are … then you have the pill.”

She glanced down at the small tin box that rested on her bedside table, and her knees went weak at the thought of the implication.

Picking up her phone, despite knowing that she shouldn’t, Yulia swiped to Wiki page entitled ‘Villa Grimaldi – Pinochet’s Main Detention Centre … and she read -This is an insight into the torture experienced by women at Villa Grimaldi. Sexual torture was used as a mechanism of terror, in which "male torturers threatened women prisoners with rape and humiliated them on the basis of their bodily functions". Torture was used as tool for both emasculation of male subjects and for humiliating female revolutionaries. One instance documented describes an interaction between a female detainee and male torturers, who force her to undress, then laugh as they electrocute her and watch the menstrual blood drip down her legs …’

Yulia felt sick and convinced herself that she was simply waiting for a knock on her apartment door.

But when it came, there was no knock, the door was simply kicked in. A scream was all she had time for as the bag was thrust over her head and Yulia was bundled out of the building … the cyanide pill was still in its small metal tin by her bedside.

Diseñada como Villa Grimaldi somewhere in Santiago, Republic of Chile

Opening the viewing hatch Valdez glanced at the girl in the cell on her bed. Yulia had retreated into a small ball, her back against the stone wall, her arms around her knees, her forehead resting on them. The little cat was suddenly a lot more scared than she had been before. She made no movement as his compardres entered the cell carrying a tray with a slab of bread, a little cheese and water in an unbreakable plastic cup. At Valdez’s nod, the man set them down.

Yulia had not broken under the initial questioning (see A Suffusion of Yellow 1), but equally knew that her interrogation was far from over.

As the door slammed closed Valdez remained in the cell and watched as Yulia looked up at him.

“Eat!” He instructed.

She ate with her fingers since they hadn't given her any utensils, small bites. When she pushed the food away, he went and stood over her. There was still some bread, some cheese.

"Finish it."

"I can't."

It made him furious. He caught her chin roughly in his fingers, digging in.

"Not everybody in Santiago has enough food, little cat. Some people out here starve. Finish your fucking meal."

He let her go, frowning when he saw the fading white of his fingers turn to angry red on her jaw. She reached for sparse meal again, the piece of bread, her hand shaking. She took a bite as he watched. She was chewing. She tried to swallow and she gagged a little, finally getting it down. She looked up at him and flinched.

He was going to hit her.

Fuck.

“SLAP!”

Hit her again.

Her face was still red on that side. It didn't matter. He was going to do worse to her. He jerked the bread from her hand, and tossed it in the corner.

"I need to use the bathroom," she said.

He got up and reached for the key in his pocket, unlocking her cuff. He gestured.

"That way."

Yulia got herself painfully up off the floor, rubbing her wrist. He could see deep purple bruises on her left arm where he'd gripped her, several sets. Her face was still a little swollen on the left side from the slap. She even had bruises on her jaw from his fingers.

Exiting the cell, Valdez followed her. Her nightdress was open at the front and torn at the back and the way it accentuated the sway of her firm ass mesmerised him. She truly was a beauty.

Yulia slipped into the bathroom, as he stood guard leaving the door open, and he yawned rubbing his hair with his open hand. He could have let the door close, there was nowhere for her to go up there, no weapons she could use, but he was enjoying the view.

She came out minutes later and held her wrists out submissively without being asked. With the restraints on Yulia set off back towards the cell only to feel a hand on her shoulder.

“You move this way little Puta, now it is time for us to begin again.”

Diseñada como Villa Grimaldi somewhere in Santiago, Republic of Chile

Valdez returned to the table, the cheap plastic topped one, standing over her … just waiting, every second adding to her mental agony. Yulia finally looked up at him. Her cuffs had been removed.

"Are you going to kill me now?" she asked.

"It doesn't have to be that," he answered.

He flipped the chair around, straddling it.

"You are an SVR Agent?" The statement was said as a question.

She looked away, before looking back at him.

“My name is Yulia Jelic, and I am a dancer.”

She was lying. He was sure of it. She wasn't a good liar at all. He got up, flipping the chair around in one motion and slamming it onto the floor. Yulia flinched.

Damn right she should flinch.

He took her arm and hauled her to her feet. She winced and he remembered the bruises. He let go, crowding her.

"Strip," he said.

Yulia knew this had been coming, and to be honest the torn nightdress was offering her virtually no cover whatsoever. But the effect of her pulling the cotton fabric over her head to expose her fully naked body underneath was a statement on the part of Valdez and one that was compelling in its eroticism to every last man in the room … and there were six of them.

He took her left wrist and re-cuffed it, before repeating the action with her left. The cuffs were locked so tightly that Yulia winced as the restraint bit into her flesh.

“On your knees Puta.”

Valdez looked down, backing away from her as, with an obvious resigned reluctance, she slowly got to her knees, facing him, naked, breathing hard.

He let his eyes roam over her body as she tested the restraint, tugging at each cuff. He had never seen a more gorgeous girl … breasts trembling, creamy curves, her nipples swollen and dusky red. Valdez circled her and and she turned to watch him anxiously. His gaze drank in every inch of her nudity, “You have an incredible body Miss Jelic, we will take great pleasure in taking it apart piece by piece …” he said quietly as he stood once more before her.

"Diego …” Valdez addressed one of the other men.

"Yes, Valdez."

"Have you ever had the opportunity to use one of these on such a beautiful body?

He held up a studded, leather paddle.

"No, my friend, never on such fine-looking flesh.”

Yulia’s eyes widened and her head shook.

"Well, my friend we'll need to change that, now won't we? Would you like to try it on our little Russian slut here?"

“I’m not Russ …” but Yulia cut short her objection.

"Yes, please, Valdez, very much so."

"Very well then. I am giving you the honour, Diego."

"Thank you, thank you!" Diego was clearly very happy to assume such responsibility.

With that Senior man handed the cruel-looking implement over to his subordinate, who tapped it against his palm to test how it felt. Stripping off his shirt the long-haired Terrorist revealed his tattooed torso as he prepared for the task that had been given to him.

Yulia gasped in horror and disbelief as the young man showed her the implement, then yelled out as Valdez placed his foot between her shoulder blades and pushed her to the ground so that she rested upon all fours, her exposed ass high in the air.

Diego moved behind her prostrate form and began teasing her, gently rubbing her vulnerable bottom with the implement. Yulia struggled desperately in her attempt to stand, but the cuffs at her wrists, having been adjusted to secure her wrists at the front of her body, had now been resecured to a clip-hook in the floor, and so they held tight meaning that she could barely move, let alone escape.

She sensed the movement behind her as Diego, smiling coldly, tapped the paddle against her left ass-cheek one final time, and then struck hard with a cruel blow.

A loud SMACK and an anguished cry of pain announced the beginning of what would be a long and very painful session for the captured Agent.

SMACK … SMACK … SMACK …

Slowly and methodically the man struck his victim, first on the left side, then on the right, before then striking hard across both agonised bottom-cheeks.

"Arghhhhh! No ...no ...por favor ... piedad ...no mas ... AIEEEEEEEEE!!!!! ... por-fa ... por favor ... tenga piedad..."

Yulia’s anguished cries and desperate pleas in Spanish filled the room as the paddle continued to strike her tormented ass. The only pause came when she pitched forward and started to fall flat, but Valdez himself stepped in and grabbed her hair, pulling brutally upwards in order to ensure that she maintained position.

The hapless Agent continued to scream but it was to no avail as the beating continued until they were ready to stop. Her bottom was painfully swollen and deep red in colour, and Valdez could see that she was teetering on the brink of exhaustion.

He Knelt before her and once again using the grip of his fist in her hair, he held her face to his.

“So, Miss Jelic, have you had enough yet?”

Silence. Valdez smiled a menacing smile.

“Who are you working with, and who for. Tell us the name and location of your contacts and you can then go free.”

Did anyone know that she was here? Did Enrique know? Was there even a slim chance that she could be saved? Yulia had to believe that there was some sort of positive answer amongst those questions.

“Tell us what we need to know Yulia.”

“My name is Yulia Jelic, and I am a dancer.”

“Call Manuel, it’s time to move the interrogation up a gear.”

And so, we bring the first phase of Yulia's interrogation and incarceration to a close ... but her suffering at the hands of Pinochet Following Activist's Group, A Suffusion of Yellow, is far from over … Yulia’s torment continues in “Tea Time of the Soul – Sexpionage 7”

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