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The next few days were an utter blur for Irina. Although modern medicine was capable of bringing back her organ functions without any permanent damage, the recovery period took time. At some point she was moved from the warm bath into an infirmary bed, where she was covered in warm blankets. Being a high value prisoner, though, she was never released from the handcuffs that bound her to the bed rails at all times.
As she finally regained awareness, she began to struggle against her bonds. She entertained thoughts that her whole ordeal might be a long and realistic nightmare, but reality sank in every time another attendant came in to deliver another all-to-real injection of medicine.
She had been fully conscious for around 48 hours when a uniformed military officer -- the first she had seen since briefly waking up in the bathtub days ago -- entered the room.
"Prisoner Shumeyko," the officer barked as he pulled a chair up to the bedside and sat down. "Looks like you've recovered nicely." Irina silently looked at him with hatred in her eyes.
"I'm sure you've realized that we are quite serious about getting information from you," the officer continued. "You can comply with us if you choose, but refusal to do so may result in more harsh interrogation methods." This elicited a visible cringe from Irina, much to the officer's satisfaction. "I should also note that a continued lack of cooperation will almost certainly lead to a harshening of your sentence -- which I assure you will already be severe given your responsibility for the deaths of an entire platoon of our servicemen."
Irina remained silent.
"You will shortly be removed directly to an interrogation room," the military officer said. "Time is short for us." With that, he stood up and briskly left the room.
A very distressed Irina twitched nervously in the bed for another fifteen minutes when two soldiers and an orderly arrived in the room. The orderly carried a neatly-folded orange jumpsuit in her hands.
"I am going to remove your IV and monitors, then I am going to unlock your handcuffs," the orderly said blandly. "At that point, you will stand up and put on this outfit. Any attempts at hostility will not be tolerated."
Irina wasn't feeling rebellious at the moment, so she laid silently as the orderly removed sensors stuck to her limbs and pulled the needle from her arm. The orderly then produced a key and unlocked the handcuffs that bound both Irina's wrists and ankles to the guardrails on the bed.
Rather bluntly, the orderly pulled all of the sheets off of Irina, revealing her fully naked body to everyone in the room. She then lowered one of the bed's rails and placed the folded jumpsuit on the bed.
Irina was quick to stand up and expose only her backside to the guards as she put on the one-piece jumpsuit and quickly zipped it up. No reason to give them any satisfaction at this point. She turned around and the orderly slapped handcuffs on her wrists again, and gestured her towards the guards.
One of the guards placed a hood over her head; Irina realized that she had absolutely no idea where she was in relation to the prison's entrance, her cell, the freezer-like room she had experienced days before, or the interrogation chamber she was subjected to previously.
As the guards led her through myriad hallways, elevators, and stairwells, Irina stubbed her toes repeatedly. Her legs felt very weak and she was having coordination difficulties. Probably intentional that they'd carry her off to interrogation in an already-weakened state.
The guards led her down a long, familiar flight of stone stairs followed by two metal doors. Once inside, they removed her handcuffs. Still blindfolded, her arms were pulled above her head and secured in manacles dangling from the ceiling. With a mechanical grinding sound, the manacles retracted towards the ceiling and lifted her completely off the floor.
If the hood wasn't on her face, her captors would see Irina on the verge of tears. The last time she was in this situation, she was given a sound beating and her left nipple was crushed with a pair of pliers. Thinking about the experience made her want to vomit.
Then, abruptly, she felt her jumpsuit being torn off with what must have been a knife or a pair of scissors. She screamed and tried to squirm away, but the second guard held her in place while the first finished the job. In short order, she found herself helpless and naked aside from the hood. Maybe it was her nervousness, but breathing in the hood suddenly felt a lot more difficult.
"Welcome back," said a stern voice. Irina immediately recognized him as the interrogator who had elicited a false confession from her last time.
"Get away from me, you monster!" Irina screamed. She flailed her legs hopelessly, but hit only air. In response, she felt a guard grab her legs and quickly bind her legs together with a pair of cuffs. She tried continuing to struggle, but it was worthless.
"I'm not going to play nice this time," the interrogator said. "So... whenever you feel like talking, please let me know."
As soon as Irina processed the man's words, she was hit with a painful jolt centered on her right nipple. It lasted no longer than a second, but elicited a loud scream.
"This is a shock baton, prisoner," the interrogator said. "Unfortunately for you, it's a bit stronger than the variety police use to subjugate fugitives." The cold metal was pressed against her flesh again and another painful jolt seared across the center of Irina's breast. She screamed, howled, and spat and tried to twist away, but it was futile. The man continued to apply the shock to her nipple.
Without saying a word, the interrogator moved to her left nipple and applied the shock liberally. Irina cursed him as the pain raged across her sensitive spots, but tried her best to block thoughts of confession out of her mind.
"Still not talking?" The interrogator withdrew the baton from Irina's severely reddened flesh. "I'm surprised... but you'll give in eventually. If you do it now, you'll save yourself trouble."
Irina felt the man slowly and lightly ran a finger from between her dangling breasts down her belly. He lingered at her navel for a moment, and then continued moving down between her legs.
"Please don't..." Irina muttered. "Please leave me with that amount of dignity..." The man ignored her and stuck two fingers roughly into her vagina, wiggling them harshly about. Irina couldn't help but elicit a slight moan. Nobody had touched her there in over a year, when her husband was sent to the front lines of the war. He was chewed up by so much shrapnel that the army had to cremate his remains before presenting them to her.
"Enjoying that, are you?" the interrogator said with a gleeful tone. He positioned his thumb to gently massage her clitoris. Irina whimpered as the tears began to run profusely down her cheeks.
"You sick fuck," she muttered. "Rot in hell!" The man abruptly withdrew his fingers and wiped them across her stomach, causing Irina to breathe a quiet sigh of relief.
"I wasn't trying to do you a favor," the interrogator said. "It's just a fact that wet surfaces tend to conduct electricity a little better than dry ones." With that, he jammed the shock baton directly between her labia and activated it. After some ungodly screams from Irina, she vomited behind her black hood and began gasping.
"Get her hood off!" the interrogator said, momentarily shutting off the shock baton. One of the guards pulled the hood off and wiped the vomit from her face with a cloth. Irina's vision was blurred as she looked down with contempt at the man kneeling between her legs.
The man looked up at her, grinned, and re-engated the shock baton. Resistance was hopeless -- she had nowhere to move, she couldn't fight back. As her most delicate parts were seared with the baton, she howled. Before long, she urinated uncontrollably, getting a significant amount on the interrogator's head.
He looked up with visible annoyance at a sobbing, but still-defiant Irina. Between cries, she muttered curses and insults.
"Let's ratchet things up a little more," the interrogator said. As he re-engaged the baton, the two guards picked up knotted ropes laying on a nearby table. One started to violently flagellate her back, while the other brutally concentrated on her breasts and stomach.
The continued pain racking her body was quickly taking a toll on Irina's consciousness. Her vision was becoming blurrier by the second and she knew that they wouldn't stop. If she passed out, they'd revive her. If she gave them false information, they'd find out and figure out a way to make things worse for her. She had no choice.
"STOP!" she screamed, trembling. "Stop! I'll confess, I swear!" Within a moment, the guards stopped with the beating and the interrogator turned off the baton and stood up to meet her face-to-face.
"You realize that another lie will make things worse?" the man said. He threateningly held the baton within inches from one of her eyes. Irina nodded. The man retrieved a small tablet computer and hovered in front of her. "I need names. Ranks. Locations. Plots that you're aware of."
Irina's breathing normalized and she nodded. "I... I need you to promise that I won't be executed. I don't... I don't want to die."
"Very well," the man said. "I'll tell them of your conditions."
Irina nodded and began to spout what she knew -- leaders, grunts, facial descriptions, meeting locations, and plots that had been in the works when she set out for her mission. The interrogator quickly recorded everything she had to say.
"I swear to you, that's all I know," Irina said in a defeated tone. "Can I please go back to my cell now? Can I please have some clothes?"
The man nodded. "We'll take you upstairs... I'm afraid we don't have any extra jumpsuits here, however." Irina nodded silently.
One of the guards flipped a switch on the wall, causing Irina to be lowered to the ground. They removed the restraings binding her ankles, then replaced the manacles holding her hands above her head with handcuffs.
They replaced her hood and tightened it about her head, then marched her out.
Irina felt strange and somewhat awkward walking about blindfolded, naked, and restrained... but at least she was out of the torture and going back to her cell for the time being. Would her friends ever forgive her? Probably not.
After walking through various corridors, her escorts paused and removed her hood. She adjusted to the light and saw that was standing before a solid metal cell door, much like the one she had been held in before. It would feel great to lie down and hopefully be left alone for some time.
One of the guards opened the door. Irina's eyes bulged -- it was no regular cell. It appeared to be a holding cell for male prisoners, who sat around on benches and cots. All wearing orange jumpsuits, many appeared to be quite rough around the edges.
"Meet the preprocessing center for male non-political prisoners," the guard said with a disgusting smirk. He called out into the cell: "I have a little present for you guys!"
The prisoners roared at seeing the attractive naked woman at their cell door. As Irina screamed curses and pleas at the top of her lungs, the guard shoved her inside and locked the thick door behind her.
Irina fell flat onto her stomach. Still handcuffed, she had trouble getting up. As members from the lecherous mob approached, she tried in vein to scoot into a corner.
Outside the cell, the two guards turned back towards the interrogator.
"Didn't let us have any fun with her first?" the first guard complained, half-joking.
"She is responsible for the deaths of an entire platoon. I'm convinced that these thugs will do a much better job punishing her for that than you could, Corporal." The interrogator smirked. "Besides, you're a professional soldier... you're above that kind of behavior, aren't you?"
"Right, above having some fun with her and throwing her to a mob," the second soldier said. "Hey, what was that before about sparing her the death sentence? I didn't know you had that kind of influence on the military tribunals."
"I don't," said the interrogator with a sly smile.
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