“Stand on the board!”
At first, Olga was confused with the direction given in a stern, commanding voice. Then she saw the rectangular panel of wood laid on top of the carpet in front of the huge mahogany desk. Quickly she moved to the panel and stood silently in the center. She had already been conditioned to obey instructions, without hesitation, to avoid unnecessary punishments.
“Turn around! Bend over!”
Olga’s face burned beet red to think her of her fully exposed anal opening and bushy lipped slit being evaluated by unknown spectators. The area behind the desk was quite dark. All Olga could make out was several shadowy figures. They were discussing her, so softly, that she was unable to understand a word.
“Maybe it is better, I know nothing!”
The young Russian girl allowed herself a moment of self-pity. Yet, she was careful to not let her dismay at her treatment to be seen by any observer.
“Has she been to see Andre yet?”
The question extracted several chuckles and derisory laughter from the unseen witnesses. Poor Olga had no idea who Andre was, or, what he would do to her. There was no doubt in her mind that it would not be something to look forward to.
“Well, Major, what will it be? Face up or face down? ”
A seemingly simple question. Yet, Olga knew instinctively the answer would be misery for her either way.
“Face up, I think, my friends. I do not want to destroy this fine ass just yet.”
Laughter filled the room. It was obvious all of these strangers know the Major’s proclivity for breaking in fresh female prisoners. More often than not, as they were securely strapped in, face down on his famous horse of delight.
The female guard placed Olga on her back on the x-shaped table, strapping each arm and each leg in 2 separate places. She placed a folded blanket under her back and tightened a final strap around her waist. The Russian girl realized that she was unable to move a single muscle. Only her head was free to move around a limited distance.
Without ceremony, a coarse burlap hood was tightened around her neck. Momentarily, she panicked, her head threshed about as she fought to suck in air through the tightly woven burlap. Forcing herself to calm down, Olga regulated her breathing. Her rapid heartbeat was another matter entirely. The adrenaline shot into her bloodstream as her body told her it was time to flee this place. Things suddenly became complicated when she felt a lean, strong body sit on her chest and wrap long legs around her body. This added weight made her breathing even more difficult, if that was even possible. The unknown man stroked her hood like a lover and she felt cold liquid being poured on the burlap in a slow but steady manner. Things were now getting very desperate in the breathing department. Olga realized that the simple choice was to either stop breathing or to drown.
Neither of these 2 options were conducive to continued living.
“What are you doing? Stop! I cannot breath. What do you want? I am innocent. I will do anything you want.”
All of this gushed out in a gurgled rush accompanied by audible struggles to get air into her tortured lungs.
“I know my little bird. Your are innocent. They are all innocent. My little visitors begging for my mercy. Pleading to be believed. I believe you, little bird. But you see, it makes no difference. We all must play our role here. I am the interrogator and you are my soft little dove. I must teach you the truth. The simple truth that you are being trained to obey. Yes, even trained to reveal your every hidden thought. There will be no secrets between us.”
Olga’s memory of the next 30 minutes was too painful to ever mention. Were anyone to ask her what happened in Major Zukoff’s office that day, she would shrug her shoulder and say,
“What matter? It is over and I am here. Alive and still the same girl.”
Everyone knew that was a lie. Olga was not the same naive girl after her visit to Zukoff’s office. Everyone knew it, but not a single person ever mentioned it.
Olga stood silently on the wood panel in front of Major Zukoff’s desk for a long time after being released from the bench. Her heart beat normally. Her breathing under control. Only the telltale errant tear falling down her cheek betrayed her struggle to subdue her emotions.
“Is she still here? Get this piece of filth back to her cell!”
(continued in Chapter 3)