The Courier Copyright 2008 by EC EC's Erotic Fiction - /~caligula97030/ (warnings: erotic discipline, sex between adults, medical fetish, public nudity, harsh police interrogation) Chapter 2 – The Interrogation Room The four Danubian police officers hustled their captive through a locked door and into a small hallway. The cops and their prisoner then descended down a long flight of stairs to the terminal building’s basement, turned a corner and entered a large room. It was in this room where Maria Elena would have her initial interrogation. It also was where she was destined to make several critical mistakes that would make her legal situation considerably worse. As the group entered the room the drug dog continued to bark happily, knowing that he had a couple more scraps of pork coming his way before he had to go back to work. The interrogation room was a large, windowless space with a row of chairs lined up along the back wall. To the right side of the entrance there was a white backdrop and a camera mounted on a tripod, which Maria Elena correctly assumed was used to take mug-shots. Next to the photography backdrop there was another camera on a tripod and a video camera. To her left were shelves full of medical supplies and drug testing kits. Also in the room were an examination table and a gynecological chair. Both the examination table and the gynecological chair had straps and cuffs that could be used to immobilize uncooperative prisoners. Maria Elena saw two enema bottles hanging from special stands. She noticed that one of the bottles was full. The room also boasted more sinister-looking items. Several cruel-looking leather police switches hung on the wall near the enema bottles. There was an electric cattle prod plugged into a charger. There were several leather harnesses and restraints hanging on the wall, as well as metal bars with cuffs designed to force apart a prisoner’s arms or legs. Several additional sets of cuffs hung from chains attached to the ceiling. There was more. In the center of the room was a medical cart loaded with yet more restraints and punishment implements such as paddles, a riding crop, and a cane. There were examination implements and a couple of flashlights. Also on the cart were lubricating gel, a couple of speculums, a vibrator, and a dildo. Several more police officers and airport officials entered the room, along with three men and a woman in doctors’ smocks. The man leading the medical group was a lecherous-looking old man, but what was more unsettling was the cruel, hungry expression on the face of the woman. Maria Elena was so terrified that she was unable to think straight. In spite of the hopelessness of her situation, her instincts told her to do what she could to deceive the Danubians and hide the criminals for whom she was working. She had been instructed that if she was caught, under no circumstances was she to reveal the identities of her handlers or the owners of the cocaine she was carrying. She was to offer no cooperation to the police, unless she wanted to be killed in prison. The medical staff took up their positions near the examination table, while most of the other officials sat down along the wall. The cops un-cuffed Maria Elena, but then the dog handler’s partner stepped back and again pointed her gun directly at the prisoner’s head. A stern-looking middle-aged man in an immaculate dark suit approached the prisoner along with a cop holding a cloth bag. The man in the suit addressed her in English. “You will completely undress. You will remove all your clothing piece by piece and hand each item to my assistant.” “I… I no understand… I no speak English… I…” The man tightened his lips. “Do you understand ‘naked’, or ‘nude’?” Maria Elena gave a terrified nod. To emphasize his point the man reached forward and undid a button on the prisoner’s blouse. He spoke in a very slow, deliberate tone, making sure that even if the Colombian did not understand his words, his meaning would be clear to her. “Excellent. So you do understand. You are now a prisoner, and in this country prisoners are always naked. Now, you will take off your clothing and you will put it in the bag.” The man pointed at the bag; “… and if you don’t, I will order my officer to shoot you.” He pointed at the female officer, who responded by cocking her revolver. “Now, do you understand me?” Maria Elena began trembling more violently, her knees shaking so badly that she barely could stand up. She struggled to catch her breath, but managed to nod. With unsteady hands she fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. The cop with the bag opened it slightly, letting her know that she did indeed comprehend what the Danubians wanted from her… that she was expected to surrender her clothing. She took off her blouse and sweatshirt together and reluctantly handed them over to the cop with the bag. As he pushed them out of sight she began unbuckling the belt on her mini-skirt. She handed over the belt and very reluctantly unzipped the side of her skirt. She forced herself to let go and the skirt fell at her feet with a slight clump. She stepped out of the skirt and passed it to the cop. Now she was naked except for her bra, panties, and shoes. The shoes were next, followed by her bra. The prisoner covered her breasts and started crying, unable to proceed any further. With a disgusted sigh the man in the suit reached forward to jerk her panties to her knees. Maria Elena let out an anguished cry, immediately trying to cover herself. Finally the man in the suit had enough. He pulled out his own service revolver and pointed it at the captive. “If you do not want to die in this room, you will step out of those panties, you will pick them up, and you will put them in the bag.” With two loaded guns pointed at their prisoner, the Danubians overcame the language barrier and established their will over the terrified Latin American. She did as she was told, stepping out of the fallen panties, picking them up, and handing them to the cop. Maria Elena still was wearing various rings, earrings, and a couple of necklaces, which she had to take off as well. Once those items were off her body, she finally was in compliance with Danubian law. As a criminal she would not be allowed to have anything covering her body; neither jewelry nor clothing. Normally the next step would be to have her pose for her mug-shots, which in the Danubian Republic comprised not only photographs of the criminal’s face taken from various angles, but also detailed photos of the criminal’s uncovered body taken from various directions and positions. However, the supervisor decided to wait on the mug-shots. He knew that the prisoner was in such shock and terror that getting her to pose correctly would take all afternoon, even if he continued to threaten to shoot her. However, he had a more important reason for waiting on the mug-shots. Under Danubian law, once a detainee is photographed she also is immediately assigned a prisoner number, which formalizes her arrest. From the moment a person is formally arrested, the Danubian penal code establishes limited rights, which include some restrictions on the way she can be treated under interrogation. If Maria Elena was not yet formally arrested, she did not yet have any legal protection and the interrogation team could do with her as they saw fit. She would be interrogated first, and only later would she pose for the mug-shots and receive her prisoner number. Instead, the man in the suit ordered the female cop to put away her revolver and handcuff Maria Elena’s hands behind her back. Her modesty now would make no difference, because she was completely unable to cover herself. The female cop again kicked her in the backs of her knees to force her to return to a kneeling position. Now, properly naked and kneeling with her hands cuffed behind her back, trembling with terror and humiliation, and with tears running down her cheeks, Maria Elena Rodriguez-Torres was ready to face interrogation by the officers of the Airport Division of the National Police of the Republic of Danubia. The man in the suit picked up a leather switch and tapped the tip against the prisoner’s right breast. “Do you understand why you are in our custody, young lady?” “Please… I… I don’t know nothin’… I… tourist… I…” In his had he held the five pellets and held them out in front of her. “Oh really? You don’t know what these are?” “No… I don’t know… I…” “So, these were in your pocket… but you don’t know what they are?” “I… I don’t know… I… please… no English…” The man in the suit smiled slightly. “I believe that we’ve established that you can understand English when you need to. So let’s try this again…” he held out the five pellets. “DO… YOU… KNOW… WHAT… THESE… ARE? Maria Elena started crying. “cocaína…” she mumbled. “Very good. Smart girl. Cocaína. Now, why… did… you… have… COCAÍNA… in… your… pocket? “I… don’t know… I just tourist… I no have cocaína…” The Danubians looked at each other in disgust. It was obvious that Maria Elena was lying. Of course she knew about the cocaine she was carrying. What the young criminal did not realize at the time was that she was violating a fundamental rule of the society that was holding her captive, that lying under any circumstances is not tolerated, and certainly not to a public official. She was dishonoring herself with her lies, and the Danubians consider that a person who is dishonored is a grave danger to everyone around her. Everyone in that room agreed that the young criminal’s spirit would have to be broken, that she would have to tell the truth before the interrogation ended. Both the leader of the interrogation group and the chief doctor knew that it was highly unlikely that Maria Elena was only carrying five pellets. That didn’t make any sense, because couriers usually carry around 100. Now that she was naked, the officials could see that her stomach was bloated. They realized that the distressed look on her face not only came from the shock of being arrested and stripped, but also from physical discomfort. The answer was obvious; the rest of the cocaine was still inside her body. ---------- The interrogation team had several options at this point. The crudest and quickest way would have been for the chief investigator to simply point his gun at Maria Elena and tell her that if she did not start talking, he would indeed blow her brains out. However, he figured that he had pushed that option far enough as it was, because in truth he had no intention of shooting her and did not want to risk her calling his bluff. The interrogators knew that the proper option would have been for them to call the Ministry of Justice and have a Spokesperson-for-the-Criminal come over to the airport. In the Danubian justice system Spokespersons were placed in charge of all criminal detainees and acted as a combination of defense attorney, counselor, and parole officer. Upon being officially arrested a detainee was officially assigned to a Spokesperson, who assumed formal custody for the duration of that person’s sentence. The airport cops knew that the person they needed to contact was Spokeswoman Kimberly Lee-Dolkivna, a naturalized Danubian citizen and the one person within the Ministry of Justice considered a “specialist” in dealing with foreigners. Calling Spokeswoman Lee-Dolkivna would have been especially appropriate in the case of Maria Elena, because it was likely that she knew someone who spoke Spanish and thus could arrange for a proper interview in the detainee’s native language. However, no one in the room seriously considered calling Spokeswoman Lee- Dolkivna any sooner than was necessary. The male cops were looking forward to having the attractive naked young woman at their mercy for several hours, while the senior officials figured they could handle Maria Elena better than any Spokesperson, regardless of the fact that none of them spoke Spanish. The leader of the interrogation team had another reason for not calling the Spokeswoman any sooner than necessary. Given that Maria Elena had already shown herself willing to lie, he decided to get her to formally perjure herself. He would make her declare that she had no more cocaine on her, and then, in front of cameras and multiple witnesses, force her to expel the remaining pellets. If he could get that on film, there was no way that Spokeswoman Lee- Dolkivna could refute the perjury charge during trial. Holding out the pellets he again asked: “How… many… of… these… do… you… have? The number… how… many?” “I… cinco… f… five… no more…” “No cocaine… in… your… clothes?” He tugged at his jacket to make sure she understood. “No cloth… no cocaína…” The man patted his stomach and glanced at the video camera to make sure it was turned on. “Do… you… have… cocaine… in… your… stomach?” Maria Elena paused. Even as she was speaking, she knew that she was giving the wrong answer, an answer sure to make her situation worse. “No… I no cocaína in stomach…” “No cocaine in stomach? Are you sure?” “No cocaína in stomach.” The man then addressed the medical team in Danubian. They were standing by, ready with a vial of a foul smelling chemical that would make a person retch upon sniffing it. The two attendants immediately approached Maria Elena and grabbed her arms. The female grabbed her hair to immobilize her head. The old lecherous doctor then walked up to the detainee and waved the vial under her nose. The chemical’s effect on the captive was immediate. She gagged instantly, leaning forward and giving a tremendous heave that expelled the 18 pellets she had swallowed only an hour before. The man in the suit snapped his fingers at the cameraman to direct him to focus in on the cocaine now lying on the floor. The doctor continued to wave the vial under the girl’s nose. She tried desperately tried to resist breathing, but within a few seconds another whiff of that horrible concoction caused her to vomit yet again. Maria Elena was convinced that her stomach was turning itself inside out as she threw up several more times, leaving a total of about 40 pellets on the floor. The cops smiled coldly. Now they had her on the perjury charge. There was no refuting that fact, it was on videotape. While the female medical assistant held Maria Elena’s hair, the man in the suit slapped her hard across the face. “No cocaine in stomach? ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU SAID? No cocaine in stomach? Then what’s THIS?” He picked up one of the newly expelled pellets and held it in front of the mortified prisoner. He threw it onto the floor and then he addressed the others in the room in Danubian. “Clean her up. Give her some water and make sure she can stand. When she’s ready, put her in the leg spreader and we shall continue.” The old doctor spoke next. “Do you want her to have a rectal exam, Inspector?” “Yes, Doctor. Most definitely I want her to have a rectal exam. I suspect we’ll find the rest of the drugs when you conduct the exam.” He turned to the cameraman. “And make sure that exam is properly filmed.” “Yes, Inspector.” Maria Elena’s “bath” was the next part of her ordeal. She would be bathed alright, by two male cops who would fondle every part of her body while they soaped her. The cops un-cuffed her, only to restrain her wrists from two cuffs hanging from the ceiling. The cuffs were about a meter apart, forcing the captive to stand with her arms spread. The cops sprayed her face and body with cold water before thoroughly covering her with soap. They sensuously ran their hands up and down her body, concentrating, of course, on her breasts, her bottom, and the sensitive area between her legs. Another dose of cold spray cleaned off the soap, but the cops were not done with her. One of them held a toothbrush to her face and told her in Danubian to open her mouth. Tears ran down Maria Elena’s face while she faced the humiliation of having her teeth brushed by the cop in that crowded room. When finished the cop forced her to open her mouth and sprayed cold water inside. The cops dried off the young woman, fondled her a bit more, and finally let her down. Before the bath Maria Elena seemed close to fainting, but the cold water had revived her. She now was ready for the leg spreader and the rectal exam. The leg spreader was a simple device, metal bar with U-shaped pieces facing outward on both sides and leather cuffs in the middle. Facing away from the row of chairs, the prisoner was forced to stand with her legs spread while the cops placed the restraint between her thighs underneath. She then was forced to bend over so her hands could be cuffed. Once the buckles where tightened around her wrists, she was unable to move. Her legs were spread widely and her bottom and vagina were lewdly displayed to everyone standing behind her. The doctor walked up behind the prisoner and lovingly stroked her tightly stretched bottom before putting on a pair of medical gloves. The cop with the camera began snapping pictures while everyone else took a seat to enjoy the spectacle. The doctor lubricated his index finger and unceremoniously shoved it up Maria Elena’s bottom. She winced and jerked upon feeling the pressure in her intestines. With his free hand the doctor spread the young woman’s bottom- hole. Then he pulled out a grape-sized oval, identical to the ones that she had just thrown up. He held it up for the benefit of the spectators and the camera, before holding it to the prisoner’s nose, forcing her to smell the odor of her own abused intestines. The camera continued to click as Maria Elena let out an anguished sob. The humiliation she was enduring was overwhelming, but there was still much worse to come. The doctor dug out two additional pellets in front of nearly 20 witnesses, but then asked for a small pair of tongs to reach in and extract more of the pellets. Time and again Maria Elena felt the tongs slide into her bottom, only to slide out with yet another portion of the cocaine she was carrying. The doctor then pushed in a small speculum and shined a flashlight into her anus, before issuing an order in Danubian to one of the male assistants. The younger man immediately brought over the full enema bottle and a large metal bowl. The doctor removed the speculum, and then, moving in front of his captive so she could see what he was doing, lubricated the tip of the enema nozzle. Yes, in front of all those men, Maria Elena would be administered an enema. Click… click… click… the camera continued documenting the young woman’s ongoing torment as the doctor slowly, very slowly, inserted the enema tube. He waited for what seemed an eternity before releasing the water. Maria Elena felt an overwhelming need to go to the bathroom the instant he unlatched the clip holding the tube shut. Her intestines ached as the warm water expanded in her guts and dislodged the remaining pellets. She would be spared nothing. She would pay for her lie many times over. She would be totally broken before any Spokesperson got a chance to talk to her. From her there would be no criminal code of silence; before she left that room she would confess and give up everything she knew about her handlers. The female cop once again pointed her revolver at Maria Elena’s head while the doctor removed the enema tube and unbuckled her wrists from the leg spreader. The device dropped to the floor with a loud clang as the prisoner put her hands over her stomach and gasped with pain. She was desperate to make it to the bathroom, but the Danubians were not about to allow her even that tiny shred of dignity. Two cops grabbed the young woman’s wrists and forced her to squat over the large bowl. A spasm of pain finally forced her to give up. She released the contents of her intestines in full view of her spectators, filling the bowl with noxious brown liquid punctuated with yet more pellets. As her bowels expelled the last of the enema and the final pellets she had concealed in her intestines, the man in the suit stood in front of her watching, his arms crossed and his lips tightened. The photographer continued to take pictures non-stop, documenting the courier’s on-going torment. Once she was finished, the two cops lifted Maria Elena and stood her before the man in the suit. He lifted her chin and moved his face just a few centimeters in front of hers. Using a tone of suppressed rage, he spoke to her. She did not understand much of his English, but she understood very clearly the emotion in his voice: “’No cocaína in stomach.’ Those were the words you used, dishonored liar. Your own words have condemned you.” Deeply offended that she had lied to him, a public official, he was tempted to hit her across the face yet again, but resisted that urge. Instead he snapped his fingers and pointed at the hose lying on the floor. The two cops holding her arms guided her to the cuffs hanging from the ceiling for a second hosing with cold water. They paid special attention to the girl’s sore bottom-hole, rubbing it with soap and massaging the opening with their fingertips before rinsing. Maria Elena sobbed with despair as she hung helplessly and the frigid spray cleaned off the last remnants of the soap. For a second time, the two male cops dried her body with towels and fondled her. Meanwhile, the man in the suit looked over the collection of pellets now laid out on a metal hospital tray. He consulted with the doctor, who seemed satisfied they had managed to remove all of the drugs from their prisoner. A full kilo of cocaine, which had been destined for a nightclub in Hamburg, now had been taken off the street. The two cops cuffed the prisoner’s hands behind her back and led her to the doctor. The old man showed her the tray of pellets. He said nothing. He just stood in front of the young Colombian, silently holding the tray and enjoying her terrified expression. She was trembling and her bare breasts were jiggling slightly. He reached forward and gently traced one of her nipples, terrifying the poor girl even more. Good. The whole idea was to break her before she had to be turned over to a Spokesperson. The two cops put Maria Elena back into the leg spreader, leaving her bent over, helpless, and lewdly exposed. Several cops stood around the prisoner, patting her bottom and admiring her figure, while they waited for their boss to issue another command. The inspector picked up a paddle from the table and held it up for the benefit of his subordinates and the horrified naked captive. He turned to the youngest cop in the room, a recent graduate of the National Police Academy. “Officer Vólkchiatk!” “Yes, Inspector!” “Have you ever had the opportunity to use one of these? It is called a ‘paddle’. It is a punishment implement used by the Americans.” “No, Inspector, I’ve only seen them. I’ve never had the chance to use one on a criminal.” “Well, Officer, we’ll need to change that, now won’t we? Would you like to try it on our little Colombian friend here?” “Yes, Inspector!” “Very well then. I am giving you the honor, Officer.” “Thank you, Inspector!” With that the director handed the cruel-looking implement over to his subordinate, who tapped it against his palm to test how it felt. Using a paddle was a new experience for the cop, because paddles only recently had been introduced in Danubia as an alternative to traditional leather switches. The advantage of using a paddle was that the American implement was less dangerous and required considerably less training than a police switch. As a result, paddles were beginning to show up in schools and interrogation rooms around the Danubian Republic, although it remained doubtful they ever would replace switches during formal judicial punishments. Maria Elena gasped in horror and disbelief as the young cop showed her the paddle, then moved behind her and began teasing her with it, gently rubbing her vulnerable bottom with the implement and tapping her with the end. She desperately struggled to stand up, but the cuffs held tight and she could barely move, let alone escape. The officer smiled coldly, tapped the paddle against her left bottom-cheek one final time, and struck hard with a cruel blow. A loud POP and an anguished cry of pain announced the beginning of what would be a long and painful afternoon for the captured courier. POP… POP… POP… POP… POP… Slowly and methodically the cop struck his victim, on the left side, then on the right side, then across both agonized bottom-cheeks. Like all cops in the Danubian Republic, the young man had received formal training in administering physical discipline and had been certified to use a police switch to flog criminals. However, he had never used a paddle and was thoroughly enjoying the new experience. The loud pops and the evenly spreading reddish marks on the girl’s bottom fascinated him. He had no desire to stop anytime soon. to the contrary, he was hoping to prove himself to the others in the room by completely breaking any hint of resistance from the young Colombian. He was determined that by the time he was finished with her, she would be so terrified that she would be completely compliant with anything his boss told her to do. “AIEEEEE!!!! No… no… por favor… piedad… no mas… AIEEEEEEEEE!!!!!... por-fa… por favor… tenga piedad…” Maria Elena’s anguished cries and desperate pleas in Spanish filled the room as the paddle continued to belabor her tormented backside. The only pause came when she pitched forward and started to fall, but fortunately the cop’s partner was standing next to the detainee, fully anticipating that she might lose her balance. The police woman caught the prisoner before she hit the floor, but then brutally grabbed her hair and righted her. She held on tight to Maria Elena’s hair while her partner struck hard with a series of particularly vicious swats. Maria Elena continued to scream for “piedad”. However from the Danubians there would be no “piedad” for a proven drug trafficker and perjurer. A woman as disgusting and dishonored as this drug courier deserved no pity whatsoever. The cop did not quit paddling Maria Elena until he was convinced that just a few more swats would break her skin. Her bottom was painfully swollen and deep red in color. He could tell that she was very weak. Were it not for his partner holding her up by viciously gripping her hair, she would have fallen onto her face a long time ago. The cop handed the paddle to one of his fellow officers and asked for one of the leather switches hanging on the wall. With the new implement he viciously struck the detainee across the backs of her thighs and was rewarded with an ear-piercing scream. As soon as the scream died down he struck hard again. He waited for her second scream to die down, before addressing his boss in Danubian. “Inspector, I believe she’s ready. Should we release her?” “As you see fit, Officer. If you feel she is ready, then release her and we shall see if your assessment of the prisoner’s condition is accurate.” As his partner continued to pull hard on the courier’s hair, the young cop unbuckled the cuffs holding Maria Elena’s hands. Once again the leg spreader fell to the ground with a loud clank. The two cops grabbed the sobbing prisoner’s arms and led her to the man in the suit. The female kicked the naked Colombian in the backs of the knees to force her to kneel. Now the Danubians would have to test whether or not Maria Elena needed any further punishment. With taps of the switch the young cop directed her to kneel forward and put her elbows on the ground. Maria Elena did as she was directed and did not resist. She remained in that position, sobbing, for several long minutes before the Inspector spoke to her. “The cocaine… who does it belong to? Who is the owner of the cocaine? What is the name… the name… the identity… of the person you planned to give it to?” Officer Vólkchiatk touched the switch to the young woman’s back, letting her know the consequences of not answering. At that moment Maria Elena wanted only one thing in life. She wanted the whipping to stop. She wanted the pain and the humiliation to stop. It was at that point she realized she needed to give up. Whatever her handler had threatened to do to her, and whatever her organization was capable of doing, no longer had any relevance in her life. Everything that she had wanted and hoped for prior to getting on Flight 2298 had ended, and none of it was ever going to come back. Her life, her body, and her future now belonged to the Danubians, cruel men in uniform who had proven themselves every bit as ruthless as any drug trafficker. She let out a final sob, and gave her answer. “Alex Mejia-Silva. Se llama Alex Mejia-Silva.” “Alex Mejia-Silva in Frankfurt, or Alex Mejia-Silva in Panama?” “Alex Mejia en Panamá.” “What about Frankfurt? Germany? I want the name in Frankfurt.” “No conozco el hombre en Alemania, pero me dijieron que se llama ‘el Flaco’. El Flaco me iba a llamar.” The Danubians recorded Maria Elena’s answers, knowing that they could follow up the information once they found someone who could translate her Spanish into Danubian. The inspector knew that it was highly unlikely that a mere one-kilo courier had much information that would be of any use to the Danubian National Police, but to him that really didn’t matter. What mattered was that Maria Elena was willing to do what she was told, willing to talk, and willing to give up whatever names she knew. The inspector nodded approvingly at his subordinate. The young officer had passed his first real-life test interrogating a detainee. ---------- For the next half hour the Inspector questioned Maria Elena about her drug trafficking group, her initial trip from Colombia to Panama, her plans once she got to Germany, where she got her passport and forged visa, and, above all, names and addresses. He understood very little of what she was saying, but her voice was being recorded and whatever information was lacking could be supplemented once a Spanish-speaker was located. The names would be turned over to the INTERPOL, although the Inspector knew, through experience, that it was unlikely anything would happen to anyone else in Maria Elena’s trafficking group. They had lost a kilo and a courier, no big deal. Maria Elena’s life would be forever changed, but of course, to her trafficking group she was expendable. Not that the Inspector or anyone else in the room had any sympathy for Maria Elena. To the Danubians, the poverty and personal situation that led her to the desperate decision to risk her life for 1,000 Euros and a fake visa were irrelevant. The fact that she had no intention of taking the cocaine to Danubia and only had landed there by accident was irrelevant. To the officials in that basement she was a drug trafficker, a liar, a perjurer, and a person who had violated the sanctity of her body by using it to smuggle cocaine. Because she was so thoroughly dishonored, she had no rights and deserved no mercy. Throughout the interrogation Maria Elena remained on her elbows and knees, her muscles cramping and her bottom aching, her stomach still in pain from the forced vomiting and her intestines still sore from the pellets and the enema that finally forced her to expel them. Between her answers, she sobbed from despair, fright, and discomfort. However, above all she was sobbing from the utter humiliation she was experiencing, from her exposure and all the fondling she had endured. The interrogation team let her stand up and gave her a short respite. One of the doctor’s assistants handed her a glass of water, which she drank greedily. She was dehydrated, but had not realized it until she had the chance to drink. Next she was ordered to sit down and given a glass of blackberry punch, which further restored her senses and made her feel considerably better. The pallor in her skin and her sick expression faded after a few minutes. She now was ready for the next part of her ordeal. The Danubians had something far more degrading planned for her. Before she posed for her mug-shots and received her criminal number, she faced a final humiliation, one that served no other purpose than to provide her tormentors with entertainment. The Inspector nodded at the old doctor, who pointed at the gynecological chair and snapped his fingers at his two male assistants. Immediately the medical assistants grabbed Maria Elena, lifted her up, and forced her into the examination chair. Before she realized what was happening, they tightly buckled her ankles and wrists. The assistants spread the leg supports and locked them open, leaving her immobilized and thoroughly exposed. She gasped with despair, terrified that the cops were planning to gang-rape her. The cops knew that was what she was thinking, but what they had in mind was not something as simple as rape. They wanted to further humiliate her, but were not about to dishonor their own bodies in doing so. Instead they planned to insult her in the worst way a woman could be insulted in Danubia. The female medical assistant approached the terrified Colombian. Using a stethoscope she listened to the criminal’s pounding heart and nervous breathing, then held her wrist and measured her very rapid pulse. Then she began stroking the young woman’s limbs, checking the joints and making sure her bones were not broken. She began stroking the girl’s skin, making sure her skin was healthy and had no injuries or lumps. From there she moved to Maria Elena’s breasts, examining them for lumps or other imperfections. Maria Elena’s nipples hardened slightly, and hardened even more when the medical assistant gently began stroking them with her fingertips. The assistant turned her attention to the courier’s face, gently stroking her cheeks and making sure her temperature was normal. “You pretty girl. So pretty… Hmmmm...” Maria Elena’s body began reacting to the soft touches and gentle speech of her examiner. The Danubian woman coldly observed her subject’s reactions, astutely gauging what was working and what wasn’t. As she gently stroked Maria Elena’s neck and shoulders, again she spoke to her in a soft, comforting tone of voice. “Nice girl… pretty girl… hmmmm… so lovely… Maria Elena had no clue what was going on. She was relieved that for the moment she was not being beaten, she was not being questioned, and she was not being raped. None of those horrid men were touching her. Instead she was being caressed by another female who seemed to have no ill intent towards her. Involuntarily she was relaxing, her body slowly surrendering to the touches of that Danubian woman in the white doctor’s smock. The woman gently ran her fingers along Maria Elena’s stomach, before returning to her breasts and shoulders. “You poor girl… I no hurt you…” Maria Elena gasped and began to let down her guard. The first hint of erotic excitement swept through her body. The Danubian gently began stroking the insides of her legs. She then moved close to the subject’s face and with a gentle, reassuring tone of voice commented: “I need see you… but I no hurt you. You be good girl for me? You please be good girl?” “Yes… I be good… I…” The Danubian woman gently stroked Maria Elena’s cheek, gave her an almost sad look, and diverted her attention to the courier’s very exposed vulva. She put on a medical glove on her right hand, then with her left hand continued to stroke her subject’s thighs and stomach. Expertly she touched the hapless foreigner, having figured out the vulnerabilities of the girl’s body and what touches were most effective for arousing her. She lubricated her gloved hand, and gently began stroking Maria Elena’s vulnerable labia. She teased and barely brushed that secret area, making her victim want to be touched all that much more. Gradually Maria Elena’s awareness of her surroundings and her situation began to fade, as her attention focused more and more on the pleasurable sensations that her body was experiencing. “You good girl? You kiss my cheek?” Maria Elena complied, kissing the cheek of her tormentor. She now was under the other woman’s control, wanting nothing more than to experience the sexual gratification that was to be her reward for pleasing that Danubian. The male cops observing what was going on smiled at each other at the sight of their captive debasing herself so blatantly. The medical assistant was coming through for them once again. The woman’s specialty was humiliating female captives by bringing them to orgasm in the interrogation room and she was an expert in what she was doing. She had tormented and debased dozens of female detainees, Danubian and foreign alike. She knew the vulnerabilities of the female body, and was skilled at determining the individual weaknesses of a woman with just a few words and gentle strokes of her fingers. Even Danubian women, who were well aware of her true intentions, found it hard to resist her touches and caresses. Foreign women, who were mostly unaware that to be sexually touched by another person of the same sex was a supreme insult in Danubian society, almost always fell victim to having a forced orgasm in the interrogation room. Maria Elena began to get wet as the Danubian gently stroked her clitoris. “Uuuuuy… Uy sí… Aieeee… Uy… Aí sí… o que bueno… sí… uy sí… .” The medical assistant turned on the vibrator and gently worked it into her victim. Oh it felt so good… Maria Elena gasped and perspired as the orgasm swept over her. She ignored the click-click-click of the camera and the fact she was being watched and videotaped. It felt so good at the moment… so good… “aieee… uy sí… sí… o más… más… por-fa… sí… uy… uy…” Once the orgasm passed, Maria Elena quickly came to her senses. She noted the cold smiles on the faces of the men who had watched the spectacle that she had made out of herself. Then she noticed the very cruel look on the face of the woman who had just seduced her. As a gesture of contempt, the Danubian took off her medical glove and dropped it on the detainee’s face. The medical assistant smiled triumphantly at the Inspector, who bowed slightly as a gesture of respect. Once again the woman’s expertise had allowed her to disgrace and humiliate a detainee. Maria Elena had been seduced by another woman, and in the mindset of the Danubians she was now completely dishonored. She looked with horror at the cameras, which obviously had recorded everything. There was another humiliation awaiting her, but it paled in comparison with what had just been done to her by that Danubian medical assistant. She was pulled out of the gynecological chair and chained to the ceiling for a third frigid spray-bath to wash off the remnants of her orgasm. As two sets of hands worked the soap between her legs and fondled her vulva, she quietly cried. She struggled to keep her face up, because she knew that as a criminal in Danubia she had no right to hide her shame. She also knew that if she lowered her head, she could expect a vicious slap from that inspector in the suit. ---------- The dog handler and his partner cuffed Maria Elena and led her out of the interrogation into the basement hallway. Across from the large room was a row of small doorways. The two police officers opened the door into a small, dark, unfurnished cell. They un-cuffed their prisoner, pushed her into the room, closed the door, and left her to go back to work. On their way out they picked up the dog. Maria Elena could hear the animal barking happily as the trio went back up the stairs into the main concourse. She vaguely wondered if they would catch anyone else that day, and then wondered how many couriers they had caught altogether. Maria Elena sat in silence. The cell was cold and she curled up to try to keep warm. As she sat in the darkness, completely naked in the small dismal room, a despair and anguish unlike anything she had ever experienced swept over her. Her bottom continued to ache from the cruel paddling she had received, but what had followed tormented her soul even more. Even though she was unfamiliar with Danubian culture and spoke nothing of the country’s language, she fully understood the extent to which they had humiliated her in that room. Oh, to be lost in this horrible place in Central Europe, in a country she never had heard of before her plane landed and where no one spoke Spanish… would she even make it out alive? No one knew she was here, so, what was to prevent the Danubians from simply killing her? Was that possible? But then again, did it matter if she died in Danúbikt Móskt? Even assuming she would be released within a few months, she didn’t see how she could return to Colombia and face her family, not after that experience in the interrogation room. But then, even if she wanted to return to Colombia, that option was no longer open to her. She had lost her cocaine load due to her own negligence and probably would be killed by her trafficking group. If she wasn’t killed for that, she would be killed for having given up what she knew about her handlers. God knows what the Danubians would do with that information once they translated it… give it to the Colombian National Police, most likely. No, she couldn’t go home… better that she simply die here and be forgotten… So this was it for Maria Elena Rodriguez-Torres. At age 19, her life was over. There was no future for her; she never would amount to anything. All those wrong choices, wrong people, quitting school, quitting her job, leaving her boyfriend for that guy with the flashy car, not listening to her mother… this is what it had led to. Sitting alone and naked in a dark holding cell in Eastern Europe, waiting to die… She did not cry. She was past crying. She thought that she could actually feel Death creeping into the cell, cloaking her with darkness and preparing to take her into Hell… ---------- As soon as his dog handler returned upstairs to the main boarding area to resume the search for drugs and couriers, the Inspector glanced at the cloth bag that contained Maria Elena’s clothing and jewelry. He removed her passport, Colombian ID card, her plane ticket, cell phone, and a small address book. He would have to take a look at the cell phone and copy whatever information it contained, but the other items he could put away and study when he had more time. As for her clothing and jewelry, those would stay in the bag and go into cold storage. Considering the charges she was facing, it would be a very long time before Maria Elena Rodriguez-Torres would be permitted to wear any clothing. As he filled out a label and sealed the bag, the official reflected with cold satisfaction that the criminal had a very nasty surprise waiting for her when she went before the arraignment panel. The perjury charge would add 20 years to her sentence. Perjury (which under Danubian law constituted making any false statement in an effort to deceive a law enforcement or judicial official during a trial or investigation) was considered one of the most serious non- capital crimes that a criminal could commit. There was no question that the Colombian would be convicted and sentenced for perjury. The evidence on that video tape was irrefutable. To make sure the perjury charge would stick, the inspector ordered the photographer to make a copy of interrogation to forward to the arraignment committee. The inspector decided it was time to call Spokeswoman Lee-Dolkivna and see if she could bring someone who spoke Spanish to the airport. He knew that whatever information the detainee had given him was time-sensitive, so getting her recorded answers translated and conducting a follow-up interview were his next priorities. Calling a Spokesperson meant that the Colombian girl now would have to be photographed and formally arrested. It was certain that Spokeswoman Lee- Dolkivna would assume formal custody and presumably take her to the Central Police Station where she would be arraigned and kept until trial. Upon being assigned a criminal number she no longer would be at the mercy of the Airport Unit, but that didn’t matter. The Inspector and his subordinates already had their fun and were ready to get rid of her. She had confessed, and now would become someone else’s problem.