PART 2
Laura found herself outside the door to her apartment. Digging into her bag, she
located her keys and fumbled with the lock. Her elderly neighbour appeared from
the adjacent doorway. "Hello Laura" she called. Seeing the state of the girl,
she enquired "Are you all right?", a look of consternation on her face.
"Yes, I'm fine thank you Mrs Williams" Laura managed to say, finally getting the
key to work and entering her hallway, slamming the door shut behind her.
Dropping her bag to the floor, she staggered over to her dining table and
collapsed into a chair, holding her head in her hands. She started to sob, and
sat there crying for some time. She tried hopelessly not to think about what had
happened. She felt sharp pains in her bowels and needed to go to the toilet but
she was afraid that she might be bleeding internally and was too scared to find
out.
Eventually, she began to compose herself and to think about what she should do.
Her first impulse was to call her mother. But how could she tell her? No, she
couldn't do that to her. Maybe the hospital.
As she stood, her blouse fell open and she glanced down at her bare flesh with
revulsion. Hurrying into the bathroom, she pulled off her clothes and dived
under the shower. The hot water was good and she began to feel a little better.
Taking the shower head from the wall, she held it close up against her vulva and
anus, trying to wash away the filth of the horrible man. In her bedroom, she
changed into a pair of jeans, a vest and a heavy cotton shirt which she buttoned
up to the collar. Her old clothes were dropped into the waste bin. What to do
next?
Obviously, she had to call the police. They would help her. Of course. She
walked over to the phone and punched the three numbers.
Later, she lay on her side on a soft padded table in the medical examiner's
office. Her jeans and panties were around her knees, and the doctor, a young
Pakistani, had placed a long plastic tube into her rectum. Her eyes were closed
and she was trying not to think about the continued humiliation she was
suffering.
The doctor slid the tube out of her body and remained quiet for some time,
busying himself behind her back. He then invited her to lie on her back and,
turning, she looked uncertainly at him.
"Well, I can reassure you that there is no serious damage to your rectal
tissues", he said in a measured, doctorly manner. "Some slight bleeding from a
minor tear but nothing to worry about. It will heal in a few days." Thank God,
thought Laura, letting out her held breath.
"I've taken a sample and there is semen there which we'll take a look at. Now,
if you wouldn't mind dropping your jeans to your ankles and parting your knees a
little, I need to take a swab from your vagina." Laura closed her eyes again and
complied with his request.
Following her examination, she was taken back to the station reception and asked
to wait a while. Sitting in the chaotic and noisy hall, she began to lose
herself in the melee. Abruptly, uniformed officer appeared in front of her,
introduced himself as Bentley, and asked her to accompany him. She was taken to
a small interview room away from the main hall. They were soon joined by a
rather large female officer who, sitting down opposite Bentley and next to
Laura, explained that she was a counsellor. Her open expression put Laura
slightly at ease.
"So that's Kotchee: K-O-C-Z-Y, Laura -am I correct?" asked Bentley, looking up
from the form he was completing.
"Yes" replied Laura. So, here she was, she thought. The victim. Rape victim.
That was how she was to be defined, to all in this room, to all who would be
involved in this. Woman, 28, unmarried professional. Raped: vaginally, anally.
She felt alone and afraid.
"Now I have to ask this" continued Bentley. "Are you sexually active?"
Laura looked at the woman and then back at Bentley. "Um...no, I mean yes but not
currently." Bentley was writing it down.
"And your relationship to your assailant?" he asked.
"Never met him before. The other one, who didn't actually...um...well I know him
by name but we had also never met."
"That's fine" he replied. "Now, if you can, please give me a straight account of
the events." Bentley checked the tape recorder and sat back.
As she began to relate the events of the morning, she broke down in tears.
"It's OK", said the woman, handing her a small packet of tissues, "you're safe
now." She held Laura's head in her hand and pressed it gently against her ample
chest. "Just help us to help you."
Faltering, she managed to get through her story. She left out the part about the
handkerchief: for some reason it was just too humiliating to repeat. Her account
of events clearly shook Bentley. He stammered that he was sorry and repeated
that she should not worry, that it was all over now.
"Look after her will you" he said to the woman, "I'll be back momentarily." Then
he hurried out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Laura began to feel comforted by the counsellor's tender embrace. Gradually, the
tears subsided and she regained some degree of composure. Neither of them spoke
during this time but she felt the connection, the compassion. A little relief at
last.
When the door was reopened, it was not Bentley but another man without a
uniform: a detective. He introduced himself as Nicholls and stated that he had
been shocked to hear of what had happened to her.
"We'll need to interview this man Harris once the DNA work has been done by the
lab. But to tie in Mr Feierlein, well we might get to him through Harris but I'm
not so sure. The best thing we can do now is immediately to confront him" he
explained. "As you know, Mr Feierlein is a powerful and influential man, and we
will need a statement from him before we go any further."
"We have spoken to his lawyer, a Mr Jacobs, who has flatly contradicted your
account. Of course, he's a lawyer so we would expect him to lie, wouldn't we?"
He looked at her, smiling a little sarcastically. "While it is asking a lot of
you, I would like to ask if you would accompany two of my men when they visit Mr
Feierlein to interview him." The female officer looked at him with surprise but
he ignored her.
Laura was unprepared for this request. She did not think she could do it,
especially so soon. She did not reply.
"I know it's very hard on you but be assured that my men are quite experienced
and that you will be in absolutely safe hands. No one can touch you now,
understand? But we do need to get our investigations underway immediately." He
paused, waiting for her response.
"OK" she said, after a while. "I'll try."
"Good girl", he said, standing up. "Let's do this right away then."
Laura sat in the back seat of the police car as it drove through the city. The
two young men seated in front had been polite, sympathetic and inspired
confidence. This put her somewhat at ease, although she felt the fear rising in
her stomach as the journey continued. She looked out at the passing streets.
Already they were in the suburbs: they must be going to his mansion which she
had heard much about. It was one of his assets they had been seeking to attach.
But when they finally pulled up, it was outside a prefab, single-storey
construction in the middle of open land. This is very strange, she thought. "Is
this right?" she asked, leaning forward.
"Yes", replied the driver. "This is the right address." Both officers got out of
the car, and one opened her door. She felt increasingly apprehensive.
"Let's go inside" said the other. "Don't worry, miss."
With one policeman in front of Laura and one behind, they walked up the three
steps to the steel main door. Pressing a buzzer the front officer spoke into the
entryphone. "Police" he announced. "Come on in" crackled the speaker.
The policeman opened the door and waved Laura inside. She stepped into the
dimly-lit interior, with the policemen close behind her. Then, unexpectedly, the
door was slammed shut and she turned to see that she was alone. Panicking, she
tugged at the handle but the door was locked and she could not budge it. Through
the steel she heard noises: a car door being slammed, twice. Then an engine
starting and a car driving off. As she listened to the noise fade away, she
realised that something was terribly wrong. She felt stupid and afraid.
Laura turned back and looked along the corridor. She could hear faint, low
voices coming from behind a door at the far end. There were four other doors,
two on each side of the corridor, and she stepped forward tentatively until she
was trying the first handle on the left, as silently as she could. No, it was
locked. She proceeded cautiously up the corridor, her eyes always on the door at
the end with the strip of light at the base and the voices within. None of the
other doors would open. Eventually, she stood outside the final door, trying to
make out the conversation inside.
Suddenly, the handle turned with a click and the door was opened by a
middle-aged man, balding, wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and a big, heavy
metal watch on his wrist. Laura jumped back a pace in surprise.
"Can I help you, madam?" he asked.
Laura did not know how to respond. She was unable to move or speak, afraid that
whatever she did would bring her deeper into peril. Come in, he was saying to
her and as if commanded, she entered the room. She had just crossed the
threshold when she caught sight of the man Harris, sitting reading a newspaper.
At this, her hands flew to her groin and she let out a cry of utter terror,
staggering back and hitting her shoulder against the open door. Then she turned
and ran, screaming, down the corridor to the far end, where she grabbed the door
handle and started cranking it wildly, hammering on the steel with her other
fist. After barely a minute she had exhausted herself, and she fell to the
floor, curling herself up to make herself as small as she could. She shivered
violently.
Soon she became aware of a large figure standing before her. She looked up: the
man was silhouetted against a bright rectangle of light.
"Come on", he said, putting out his hand. Laura thought about biting it but
realised that antagonising this man would only lead to greater problems. "Please
don't..." she managed to get out.
"It's OK" he replied, somehow reassuring her. Laura took his hand and stood up.
Then she followed him back to the room. Entering, she was told to stand at a
small white square in the middle of the floor, which she did, trying not to look
in Harris' direction.
The room was an office, though as she took it in it increasingly reminded her of
her doctor's surgery. Aside from a couch, on which the foul Harris was sitting,
there was a table and a desk against one wall, at which the other man sat down,
his back to her. The desk had the usual office paraphernalia: computer,
telephone, papers. Also, there were other items, which looked medical. In the
corner was a sink, with a kettle and jars of tea and coffee next to it.
The balding man swivelled round on his chair. His eyes narrowed and his
expression grew colder.
"Good" he announced, looking her over. "Take off your clothes."
Oh no, not this. Her mind raced. She couldn't go through this again. For God's
sake, why was this happening to her? She looked over her shoulder: the door was
closed. No way out. No chance of help. The man was staring at her, waiting for
her reaction. She did not dare look towards Harris. But she heard the sound of
him rising from the couch. "Can I?" he asked, menacingly. Laura instinctively
shuffled to the left, off the square, to put more distance between them.
"Come on, love" said the seated man. "This is your last chance."
Laura's swallowed deeply and her hands moved nervously, shaking, to her shirt.
She began to open the buttons. Harris sat down to watch. Then she was working
the material over her shoulders and dropping it to the floor. Her bare skin felt
cool and prickly. She slipped her feet out of her shoes and gripped the rough,
hard-wearing carpet with her toes. She fumbled with the buttons on her jeans,
unable to get them open, panicking that they would not give her enough time. The
sound of laughter came from the direction of the sofa. Finally she got them
undone and hurriedly slipped the jeans to her ankles, stepping out awkwardly,
almost losing her balance. More laughter. Then she stood nervously in her
underwear, hoping that it would be enough for them.
"Continue" he said. Laura immediately flushed red with embarrassment, heat
filling her cheeks. She was falling deeper and there was no way to climb out.
But she did as she was told, stretching to lift the vest over her head, breasts
swinging awkwardly as she bent down to slip off her panties. As she did this,
she began to cry, childishly. Then she stood naked, one hand covering her groin,
the other arm across her chest hiding her nipples. She looked at the floor,
salty tears streaming down her cheeks and onto her breasts.
What a truly beautiful woman, thought Hartmann, running his eyes over her body,
sizing her up. Late twenties, shiny black hair: natural. Looks like central
European stock. Polish? Yes, her name -tallies. Catholic upbringing, certainly.
Shy, clumsy at stripping. Not too experienced sexually? Fine physique, athletic.
But a lawyer, apparently. Gym four or five times a week plus ten hour days. Not
much room for a social life. Boyfriend? No ring. Sensible haircut. Pubic hair,
neat but untrimmed, unwaxed. No boyfriend, probably. Lesbian? Possibly.
Intelligent, academic. Confident in her profession, insecure emotionally,
sexually. Interesting. Needs to be handled with care.
The girl continued to cry and every now and then jerked her hand up to wipe away
the tears and snot, revealing her breasts. She had smooth pale skin, the only
blemish being the two horizontal bruises on her upper thighs. He had heard about
the morning's events and grimaced at the thought. Primitives. What did they
think they were doing? Could so easily damage a girl like this for good like
that. For what, a quick fuck and a power trip? Jesus. At least Feierlein had
given him some time to work on her, five days actually. A challenge,
nonetheless. Of course, he could let Harris beat her senseless, rape her a few
more times. They could break her, no problem. She'd probably kill herself within
a couple of days. But what a waste. Destroy a beautiful thing like this. You've
given me the chance, he thought, now I'll show you what I can do.
Harris, unable to contain himself, had risen and now stood very close to the
girl, causing her to shrink away.
"What?" asked Hartmann.
"Want it" rasped Harris, grabbing the girl by her right buttock. Laura's hands
reflexively moved to protect her bottom, displaying her naked torso to the full.
Then, realising how exposed she was, she replaced her hand over her groin.
"I believe", replied Hartmann, sardonically, "that you have already had it. Now
sit down and behave yourself."
Laura was surprised by the effect of his words. Harris immediately released his
hand and, muttering to himself, returned to his place on the sofa. Laura covered
herself again with relief.
"Before we begin" Hartmann continued, ominously, "I need you to answer a few
questions. Can you do that?"
Laura replied softly. Yes, she could.
"Good" said Hartmann, taking a pad of paper and a pen from his desk. "Just
answer yes or no. Do you have asthma? Diabetes?". Laura shook her head no. "Any
STDs -sexually transmitted diseases?" Laura glanced spontaneously at Harris, and
shook her head uncertainly.
"Yes, well, perhaps we should ask Mr Harris over there" he said with a wry
smile. Harris, bolting upright as if he had been picked out in a schoolroom,
announced "I'm clean" in an injured voice.
"Are you on any medication? Have you a heart condition?". No, she wasn't,
didn't. Hartmann made notes.
"Good" he said, rising. Picking up a large glass beaker from his desk he walked
over to the sink and filled it with water. Replacing it on the table, he
selected a container and from it proceeded to add large spoonfuls of white
powder to the water. Laura watched him transfixed as he stirred the cloudy
water, the metal spoon clinking against the glass. Wiping the spoon on a small
white towel, Hartmann turned to her.
"I want you to drink this", he said.
Christ, thought Laura, suddenly regaining her composure. Are they going to make
me poison myself? Make my death look like suicide, or an accident? Or is it a
drug -to lower my resistance, make me easier to rape again? I must do something,
now, she realised. I must fight, it's my last chance. She cast her eyes around
the room for some opportunity.
Hartmann saw the girl's breathing quicken as the adrenaline surged in her body.
Suddenly she darted towards him, pushing him aside, grabbing the silver pen from
the desk and leaping backward. Nimble lass, he said to himself.
Harris rose from the sofa. The girl had retreated to the far wall, as far away
as she could get, and was panting and trembling as she brandished the silver pen
as if it were a blade. Her wide eyes betrayed her fears. Yes, thought Harris as
he moved towards her, fear me. Fear me, whore. I'm going to beat the shit out of
you and you'll beg me to fuck you through your broken jaw. Yes, yes, he seethed,
feeling wetness on his thigh.
As soon as he was within reach, Laura lunged at him with the pen, going for his
eyes. Grabbing her wrists, he easily disarmed her. He pulled her to him and then
threw her hard against the wall, then punched her in the stomach, first with his
right fist, then his left.
Laura doubled over in pain and, winded, sank to the floor where she lay, curled
up and gasping for breath. Harris drew back his boot and prepared to sink a blow
into her ribcage.
"Enough" shouted Hartmann, causing Harris to pause.
"Well, what do you want me to do with her?" said the latter, sarcastically,
casting his eyes towards the ceiling.
"You will do as you're told" stated Hartmann in a measured voice.
"I said" replied Harris, seething, "what do you want me to do with her?"
"Cuff her and get her on her knees." At this, Harris shrugged and produced again
the handcuffs, which he used to bind Laura's wrists behind her back.
Laura's mind reeled as hands under her armpits lifted her into a kneeling
position. She was in shock from the sudden explosion of violence and pain. I
can't go through this again, she wailed inside. Someone have mercy on me. But
she knew that no-one would come.
The hands forced her to straighten, causing the girl to wince with the pain in
her abdomen. The man at the desk spoke to her.
"You disappoint me", he said, solemnly. "You were given the opportunity to
behave and you let me down. Therefore, you will be punished."
The words resonated in Laura's skull and she felt the fear rising inside her.
Every second now brought her closer to horror, to suffering, and she felt as if
she were falling into a deep, black well. She looked up and saw that the man had
produced what looked like an elastic band. Yes, it was a thick brown post office
elastic band. And now he was pulling some clear film from a cardboard box and
tearing it off. What...?
She felt the hands hold her fast as the man approached, his huge body towering
above her. As she looked up she saw that he held a clear plastic bag, like the
ones she used for fruit at the supermarket. Laura thrashed and screamed but the
bag was easily lowered over her head. Then she saw two big hands stretching the
elastic band, passing it around her, and felt it tighten against her throat.
Abruptly, she was released and, as the man returned to his desk, Laura looked
around frantically. Sucking in air, the plastic was drawn against her mouth and
she breathed out in surprise, inflating the bag with the air from her lungs. As
the plastic was drawn back and forth it crackled and the noise filled her head.
Laura began to panic. No, don't let me die like this. What I am supposed to do?
Maybe this is a test. Maybe I can bite open the plastic. No, it's not working.
Try again. No. How much time? A few minutes?
Laura twisted right and left, trying to see what was happening. The bag had
begun to fog with her moist breath and the light was refracted oddly by the
crinkled plastic. She could see Harris, sitting on the sofa, watching her
menacingly. The other man had his back to her and seemed to be writing
something. God, he's ignoring me, she thought, just waiting for me to die. She
thought about crying out but knew it would do nothing. So she just concentrated
on her breathing, trying to keep it slow and shallow. Try not to breathe out too
much, she was thinking, keep down the CO2. But without realising she was taking
shorter, faster breaths, sweating with the effort. She could no longer think
properly as the periphery of her vision began to darken and scintillations
flashed brightly before her eyes. Then, she was falling into the darkness.
Laura felt something soft stroking her cheek. It grew harder and harder until it
stung with each smack. Her eyes began to clear and she could make out a blur, a
man, floating in front of her. "She's OK" came a strange voice and a sharp pain
shot through her head. As she came round a sense of nausea, as if she had drunk
too much, overwhelmed her. Dimly, she realised that she was still alive.
She was being held on her knees again, and as she looked down she saw that her
skin was covered with sweat. Her breasts heaved as she filled her lungs hungrily
with oxygen. Thank God, she had survived somehow. But then she heard the
crackling sound of the plastic again and before she could react, the bag was
over her head and the band around her throat. No, she cried out, please, no. But
the man turned away again and as the hands released her, she fell to the floor.
From his position on the comfortable sofa, Harris stroked his erection as he
watched the trussed, naked girl slowly suffocate. She lay on her back, straining
to catch each breath, legs splayed and exposing her cunt. Harris imagined
himself fucking her as she took her last breaths, eyes wide, pleading to be
spared. Abruptly, Hartmann went over and took off the bag. Spoilsport, thought
Harris.
The third time the men needed smelling salts to bring Laura round and she was by
now so drained that when the handcuffs were removed she lay inert on the floor.
"Fancy some air?" Hartmann asked Harris and they left the room for some time.
When they returned, they found Laura on her side, breathing slowly and
deliberately.
Laura heard a clink and opened her eyes to see the beaker of cloudy water on the
floor in front of her.
"Drink it" she was told.
She knew that it would be pointless to resist, whatever the liquid would do to
her. She knew what death felt like, had just experienced it three times. If
only, she thought half-heartedly, they had just let her suffocate. It would all
be over. Struggling to her knees, supporting herself with her left arm, she
picked up the beaker and took it to her lips.
The water was very salty, like seawater. "Swallow it all" came the harsh order
and without thinking further she gulped it down. It tasted horrible and she
could feel it suck the moisture from her mouth and throat. But then she had
finished and, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, she looked up.
"Good", said Hartmann to her. "Well done." He looked away. "Oh", he continued,
almost as an afterthought, "that was just brine -salt water-you realise. I'm
sure you also realise that drinking such a quantity of salt in a short period
will upset your body's fluid balance significantly. I'm afraid that the result
for you will be serious brain damage." He looked at her with pity.
Yes, thought Laura, with a sense of resignation. She knew it was true. So this
was it, what all this had been for. To put her in some hospital, fed through a
tube, her mother distraught at her bedside. She began to cry.
"Of course it's not inevitable", Hartmann pointed out. "You can simply bring it
up, out of your system. In fact, I would advise you to do that now." He produced
a steel pan and placed it in front of her. "In here, if you don't mind."
Laura was confused. "But..."
"Stick your fingers down your throat, for God's sake", replied Hartmann, curtly.
"Surely a skinny girl like you knows how to bring up her lunch?"
Laura stopped sobbing and stared into the steel pan. She did as she was told,
and as her fingers found the depth she felt her stomach spasm and then water was
spewing from her mouth, splashing against the metal. It took three attempts to
get it all out, and by the time she had finished Laura's eyes were streaming and
arms trembling as she hung her head over the pan. Her throat burned with acid
and her stomach felt wrenched and twisted. She was cold inside and the air
further chilled her sweaty skin.
"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" observed Hartmann. "Let's try again." He
retrieved the glass and soon returned it to Laura, now full with cloudy salt
water. "Drink" he ordered her again.
Laura did as she was told. Harris, whom she had temporarily forgotten, laughed
loudly as she vomited again and the poor girl felt utterly wretched. Looking
down into the pan, she saw her reflected face, distorted by ripples as liquid
dripped from her nose and was ashamed with herself for letting them do this to
her. In private this would be pathetic enough. Doing it naked, on her knees, in
front of these men, was just humiliating beyond belief.
After the second glass Hartmann was satisfied with the girl's performance, but
made her repeat the exercise with three further beakers in any case.
This left Laura so weak that when she was ordered to stand, she was unable to
comply. Hartmann nodded to Harris, who picked up the shaking girl and carried
her over to the table, where he deposited her, face down over the side. Just
like this morning, Laura thought with a groan, but this time they don't need to
tie me. But she was wrong: Harris would not be permitted to rape her on this
occasion.
Laura felt a hand on the small of her back and a voice, not Harris', told her to
spread her buttocks. Turning her head, she saw a white plastic bottle with a
short, thin tube at the top, resting on the table. She had by now lost any
ability to resist and mechanically pressed her fingertips into her cheeks and
pulled them apart, closing her eyes and preparing for the worst. She flinched as
the tip of the bottle was inserted into her anus, still sore as she was from the
abuse she had received that morning. She gasped as she felt cold liquid rush
into her bowels with some force, filling her insides. Then the hand was lifted
from her back and the bottled removed. Laura lay still on her stomach and,
despite the rising discomfort, stayed in position, hoping to extend the time
before the next event as long as possible.
But after a few minutes she began to experience sharp, shooting pains in her
bowels and had to clench her teeth to stop crying out. She heard voices behind
her.
"OK, she's ready. Take her outside." Harris: "Nar...do I have to?" "Yes, you do.
Do it now."
Laura was lifted and led out of the room. The effort of clenching her buttocks
together rendered her unable to stand up straight as she was manhandled roughly
by Harris. He took her down the corridor and through a door on the left. As he
turned on the light, Laura saw that the room was bare aside from a cistern-less
toilet on which he deposited her. "Get on with it" he said, snarling, as he left
the room and closed the door.
Hands on her knees, eyes tightly closed, Laura relaxed and felt the liquid
contents of her bowels empty into the pan. She found the experience deeply
unpleasant, like diarrhoea, but felt relief too as the pressure eased. She was
left giddy and hung her head to avoid fainting. After a few moments she
recovered her senses enough to register the cold sweat on her upper lip. She
looked around the spartan room, vaguely wondering if there might be something
she could turn to her advantage.
The room was empty. The only feature was a stubby overflow pipe sticking out of
the far wall, about four feet from the floor and about two inches in diameter.
At its base was a small grating and there was a pair of indentations in the lino
at either side. Clearly some two-legged object had been there earlier. Odd, she
thought, that there should be an overflow pipe on the inside of a building. Her
musings were interrupted as Harris opened the door and pulled her to her feet.
The door opposite was now open and she was thrown down onto the cold hard floor
of the dark room.
Harris picked up the end of a garden hose and turned a tap at the wall. Laura
shuddered as he sprayed the icy water over her body. Instinctively she found the
far corner of the room and curled up, shielding herself.
"Stand up, or I'll beat you with this hose" growled Harris. She knew he would,
and stood up, covering herself as best she could.
"Get those legs apart and get your hands behind your head, you filthy whore"
said the silhouette in the doorway. Laura jerked to attention and presented her
body to him as openly as she could manage. Despite her weakened condition and
the iciness of the water against her skin, she stood straight and put out her
chest. Please, she was thinking, please don't beat me.
"Lift your left tit by the teat, bitch" he ordered. "Now the other." He was
enjoying the way she responded, like a trained animal.
"Turn around, bend over. Get that arse open."
Laura performed for him. The water was actually refreshing, and even when he
held the hose up against her crack and scraped his rough hand over her buttocks
she did not recoil. Then he turned off the water and locked her alone in the
darkness. "Dry off" he said as he closed the door.
After what seemed like an hour, she was brought back into the office. She had
not dried much but was shivering violently.
"Lie on the table on your back" Hartmann told her. She lay back, letting her
legs hang over the side. He found a white towel and pressed it over her body and
between her legs. He then picked up a long, thin packet and, tearing off the
top, extracted a thin tube.
"I am going to insert this into your bladder. Do you understand?" he asked
Laura. "Yes" she replied softly. She rested her hands on her chest as he played
with her labia, opening her up. She flinched and gritted her teeth as the tube
was passed into her urethra. It burned like a hot wire. She needed to piss but
was unable to do so.
"Good" said Hartmann, satisfied with the fit. "Stand up."
Laura stood as Harris again chained her hands behind her back. She was led out
of the room, brushing the catheter between her thighs as she walked. Back in the
room with the toilet, a firm hand on her shoulder forced her to her knees. Then
she heard a click as the light was turned out and the door closed and locked. As
she knelt in the darkness, she heard voices outside, footsteps in the corridor,
the steel entrance door opened and closed. Then, silence.
