"I thought that would wait until Marya and I could work together."

The general shook his head. "I had intended for that to be the case. But your daughter will be unconscious for at least the next three days while we prepare the..." He scratched his head. "What did the good doctor call it? Oh, yes, 'fright treatment.' My men have waited long enough."

Yelena sat with her arms folded over her breasts. She was tired of showing them to everyone who came within sight. She sighed heavily. "So what am I to do? Act as if I were each man's lover?"

The general gave her a small smile. "No, we have no need of another woman to play that role. We already have Alina Petrovna for that."

Yelena gaped at him. "Petrovna is here?? I thought she was dead!"

The general smiled again. "In the same sense that you are dead."

Yelena winced. Yes, she thought, the whole outside world, except for Dimitri, thinks Marya and I both died in a crash. Just like I thought Petrovna had died of an overdose. It's a world full of dangers, she thought, curling her lip. "I suppose you do want me to play some role, though."

The general shrugged. "If you want to look at it that way, you and your daughter are to be cheap whores. You will each simply allow each man to use your bodies in any way he wishes."

She gritted her teeth. "Dimitri's idea?"

"I thought that went without saying. In any case, the men know they are each permitted to have you once a month. And Marya once a month also, as soon as she is ready. Of course in her case, she is to understand her duties in terms of your cover story."

Yelena stifled a moan. "That she's servicing them as their reward for their service to me. Yes. How many men was it that we're talking about again?"

"You will service two or three each day. They have already signed up for a regular monthly rotation. Marya's service is obviously delayed, but as I said, yours will start today. The men are understandably impatient."

Yelena did moan aloud at last as a memory she had pushed away came back. The men... these would all be the same men who had taunted her in the hallway on that interminable trip from the general's office to the infirmary. Those men. She would have to give them what they had all said they wanted.

The general looked at his watch. "You should go back to your room to get ready. The first of the men will be there to see you in about an hour."

Rachel blinked in surprise as her team arrived back in the cell block. In the row of cells across from Rachel's, there was a woman Rachel hadn't seen before in one of them, all of the others being empty. Rachel couldn't recall any being left behind this morning.

The new woman sat hunched miserably within her cell, and raised her hand up to brush across her bristly hair as Rachel watched. The gesture seemed familiar...

Oh, of course, thought Rachel. I did that, this morning, feeling the unfamiliar brush-cut, trying to get used to it as a symbol of being a prisoner, along with the chains.

The girl looked so lost, so terrified.

The women of Rachel's team were released from the chains connecting their collars, and shuffled into their cells. Rachel sat on the hard floor of her cell and continued looking at the new girl.

Rachel couldn't imagine anything she could say to the girl, if she spoke any Russian. Don't worry, it'll all be okay? It won't be okay. It will be hell. Rachel's heart went out to the girl. She resolved again to make freeing all of the women here her highest priority, after she was released.

Minutes later the other team came in. Rachel wondered for a moment what they would do with the extra woman, and then saw there were only seven in the chain line. She was positive there had been eight this morning.

So that's what happens, Rachel thought gloomily. A new prisoner arrives, she's pretty, she has a nice body, the guards want to keep her... and some other woman is taken away to make a space for her. Rachel suddenly had a memory of what the woman in that cell had looked like. Rachel remembered thinking she seemed a little older than most of the others. Rachel didn't see her among the returning women.

Rachel sighed. Taken out for her execution, Rachel supposed. She might already be dead. They probably don't waste much time once they decide to do it.

At least I'll be out of here soon, thought Rachel. I'm so sorry that it's too late to help that woman who isn't here anymore.

For her own part, Rachel felt almost human, for the moment. She was warm; she had showered; dinner was arriving on the food cart. Though she still felt constantly conscious of being a naked prisoner in a tiny cage, it was much better than where she had been at the start of last night.

Her mood was mainly a product of tonight being the night she felt confident of being released. She should be out of the country within hours. She wondered if she would see Mandy before then, or if her friend was already back in the U.S.

Shortly after Rachel finished eating, there was a sudden stirring within the cells, and Rachel saw the routine she remembered from the first night, which had not been necessary last night, with Rachel having taken the focus away from all the other women: the women were all getting up into that "present breasts" position, and Rachel hurried to push herself up and walk forward on her knees up to the bars, flattening the front of her upper body against the bars with her breasts projecting out beyond. As before, it was probably least comfortable for Rachel, of all the women, as she had to spread her knees farther apart than the rest to keep her head from banging against the ceiling of the cell.

Rachel saw the new girl looking across at the women of Rachel's team, and then suddenly realizing this must be something she was required to do as well. The girl scrambled up to her knees, and pushed up against the bars like the others, biting her lip, her face reddening.

Five guards ambled slowly down the aisle. Rachel, her heart pounding, knew they were each deciding which girl to rape. She tried to think which guard wasn't there, and realized it was Matt. She wondered why he was missing this.

Rachel saw the first two guards stop in front of cells on her own side -- the ones directly across from the new girl. Showing her what was required, Rachel realized. Learn by watching. Rachel couldn't see what they were doing from inside her own cell, but from the sounds, one was doing a girl from behind, the other getting oral sex.

Igor now stopped in front of Rachel, reached down and gave her left breast a sharp squeeze, grinning.

Shit, damn it, damn it, shit, Rachel thought. He decided on me tonight.

Igor pointed to the ring gag.

Burying a moan, Rachel retrieved the gag in her mouth, and let Igor take it from her, opening her mouth wide for him to secure it behind her teeth.

As Igor was thrusting his manhood in and out of her mouth, nearly choking her each time, Rachel was able to see the new girl's cage each time he withdrew -- his hip blocked the view each time he thrust forward. She caught sight of Boris giving the new girl's breast a squeeze, making the girl squeak in alarm. Rachel could hear the squeak followed by a moan when Boris gestured for her to turn around.

Igor finally came, squirting nasty gunk into Rachel's mouth. She couldn't swallow well with the gag in place, so she waited for him to remove it, consciously keeping herself from making a face at him when she did swallow afterward. No sense inviting trouble.

By this time Boris was finishing with the new girl -- vagina, it appeared, though Rachel knew either way it was painful. Over the thumping sounds Boris was making, Rachel could hear the girl crying.

The last of the guards had chosen a woman at the start of the opposite row. He was now finishing -- anal, it seemed -- and the rapes were over for the night.

Rachel had hoped that meant she could go to sleep, but now it was Play Time.

Two of the guards -- Igor and one of the other team's guards -- sauntered slowly down the aisle, looking into the cages on either side. Rachel kept her eyes looking directly forward, mentally trying to broadcast "don't pick me, don't pick me" brainwaves.

The guard to whom Rachel had not yet assigned a name stopped in front of a cell on the side opposite Rachel's, not the new girl's, while Igor continued down to the end and stopped at the last cell on Rachel's side. Rachel heard both girls whimper as their cells were unlocked. They emerged to stand at attention, looking scared.

After a moment of discussion between the two guards, and apparent agreement, Igor unlocked the handcuffs of the girl from that last cage. Rachel recognized her, of course, having spent the day working with her: tall, though not like Rachel, dark haired as they all were, very pretty, slender, with muscular legs, taut stomach and, of course, large breasts. The woman from across from Rachel was a little shorter, but of a similar body type. She stood with her lip quivering, wincing preemptively as if she already knew what was about to happen, as indeed she likely did. Her guard made no move to unlock her cuffs.

The guard directed her to stand in the middle of the aisle, facing the other woman, who was brought to stand in front of her. He spoke to both women, with a nasty grin. Rachel suspected he was telling them the rules. While the first girl looked scared, the other, the one whose hands had been freed, was more in the direction of being pained, almost sick. She bit her lip and gave the first woman, the one still in full restraints, a look that appeared to Rachel to be apologetic.

To Rachel's astonishment, followed instantly by horror, at a word from Igor the woman with her hands free curled her right hand into a fist and struck the other in the face with it. The latter cried out, took a quick staggering step back and, when her retreating foot was stopped by the hobble chain, lost her balance and fell over backward, landing heavily on her butt and then her shoulder.

Rachel gritted her teeth, her breath coming forcefully out of her nose. The woman had no way to defend herself! She couldn't lift her hands up from her waist! She knew the punch was coming, and could only stand there and take it.

Now the guard unlocked the fallen girl's hands -- and then relocked them behind her. From his pocket he took one of those penis-shaped gags which Rachel knew and loathed, put it in her mouth and buckled it, and made her lie down in her own cell. Unlocking her hobble chain, the guard locked her ankle cuffs directly to each other, then pulled her ankles towards her wrists, wrapped the hobble chain around her wrists and locked both ends to her ankle cuffs. It was... Rachel tried to remember the word for it. A hogtie, that was it. What a perfect name for something so demeaning. The guard closed her cell door, as the hogtied, gagged woman lay there crying. Rachel strongly suspected she'd have to stay that way all night.

Igor allowed the other girl, the "winner," back into her cell with her hands still free, as her reward.

Two more of the guards, the remaining two guards of the other team, now strolled between the cells, and picked two more women for the second round of the "fights." Of course, one of them chose the new girl.

She stood, crying, as the guards unlocked her opponent's handcuffs. She had seen enough to know what would happen next.

This time, to Rachel's surprise, she saw that it was possible for the girl being struck to win, which apparently required only that she stay upright after being hit. The new girl, after being struck on the cheek by the other's fist, took a quick hop back with both feet, obviously a move planned ahead of time, using up enough of her momentum that she managed to keep her balance -- barely -- with another small step back. Her balance was very precarious, and she had to bend double, her head almost to the floor, to keep it, but she straightened up then with a shaky, relieved smile, tears still streaming down her face.

Rachel had the rules completely worked out now.

She was very impressed with what the new girl had done. The girl was almost, but not quite, scared out of her wits, but enough wits remained for her to do the best she could with an impossible situation.

Maybe, thought Rachel grimly, the difference is that she hasn't had time yet to give up hope. Most of the women, Rachel thought, probably wouldn't have had the emotional energy to consider a self-defense strategy.

The new girl's hands were released now, and she crawled back into her cell and lay on the floor, crying, while the other woman was put in her cell in a hogtie. With the penis gag.

Boris now came down the aisle. Matt, it seemed, was still absent.

Boris stopped in front of Rachel's cell, and his eyes darted back and forth between Rachel and Anya. A small smile crept onto his lips.

Oh no, thought Rachel, no, no, no, please don't do this! She started to shake her head, giving Boris a pleading look, but stopped and sighed, knowing there was nothing she could do about it. Boris is thinking about what happened today, she told herself. And I think he must want me to know that no good deed ever goes unpunished.

A minute later Rachel was standing outside her cell, having her cuffs unlocked, while Anya, already looking miserable and defeated, stood by.

Boris looked at Rachel. "You see? You know what you do?"

"Yesss," Rachel responded through gritted teeth. She knew indeed.

Boris anticipated her, just as Rachel was resolving what to do. "You don' hit hard, you hit again."

Shit, thought Rachel, shit, shit, shit. Rachel wouldn't be allowed to just tap Anya in a token way. Rachel, all six feet of her, was going to have to hit tiny, defenseless Anya in the face hard enough to knock her down. Rachel couldn't stop looking at the bruise on Anya's cheek from the fight two nights ago. Rachel had seen Anya unexpectedly win that match, staged in a slightly different format from this one -- one that was a little more fair in its rules, though no more fair in the sense of pitting Anya against a big woman she couldn't possibly fight -- but Rachel knew Anya couldn't win this one.

Rachel looked at Anya, who already had her eyes closed tight. Come on, Anya, she thought, you have to at least see it coming!

Before Rachel could talk herself out of it, not looking forward to a high-stress night in a hogtie but absolutely refusing to consider hitting Anya, Rachel dropped her hands to her sides and said, "No."

Boris blinked. "No?"

Rachel turned to face him. "I'm not doing it. I," she pointed to herself, "no hit her," pointing to Anya. Then she pointed to the hogtied girl in the cell nearby. "Just go ahead and do me like her. Do that to me." She turned and put her hands behind her back, wrists together.

Looking back to watch Boris, Rachel could see Anya out of the corner of her eyes. Anya had gone suddenly pale, her eyes wide, and she shook her head insistently. It's okay, Anya, thought Rachel, I'm doing this for you. Quit worrying. I've seen what they do to the losers. I won't like it, but I'll be all right.

Boris slowly crossed his arms. He spoke to the other guards, standing at the head of the aisle, who gave him astonished looks. Rachel still didn't see Matt.

There was Matt now, suddenly appearing, crossing the drawbridge. Rachel had the impression his face was sporting an "I just got laid" expression. She supposed that would explain why he'd missed Play Time. Matt called out breezily to the rest of the guards. Just by his demeanor, Rachel made the guess it was "What's up?" or something similar.

Boris, his voice animated, responded, with the other guards chiming in occasionally. Boris pointed several times at Rachel. Rachel couldn't account for the degree of interest in what had just happened. She just wished they would quickly gag her and put her in the chain hogtie, and her night would be over.

Suddenly Matt's eyes lit up, and he pointed at Rachel as well. Rachel was electrified when his first sentence contained a word that sounded like "amyerikanski." It sounded so close to "American" that Rachel was sure her nationality was the subject of discussion, and that didn't seem at all relevant to what Boris had been telling Matt about. Matt also pointed back in the direction he had come, and Rachel heard that word "amyerikanski" again.

Rachel's heart leapt. Are there Americans out there now? Is that what he means? she asked herself. This is it! This is it!

She almost threw her arms in the air, ironically almost the first time she would have been able to do that in the last three days, but held back. I don't know for sure, she told herself. I decided right at the start I had to keep to myself the possibility of being released. I can't blow it now, if this turns out to be something else.

Rachel looked back at Anya. The girl seemed as puzzled by the discussion as Rachel, though presumably for a different reason, as she could at least understand the conversation. They probably hadn't said anything as clear as "She's being released." Just that there were Americans waiting out there for some reason. Rachel wasn't completely sure Anya had known Rachel was an American. She might just now be finding out.

Boris, his face unreadable, walked back towards Rachel. "Dey talk about you out dere," he said, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder to indicate the wider world of the prison outside the cell block. "De general talk about you."

Rachel's spirits rose still higher. Yes, this did involve the top level of prison administration. Keeping a poker face, she nodded.

Boris said brusquely, "Put hands in front." Rachel blinked, but did as she was told. She didn't understand why they would be restoring her restraints, though maybe there was simply a strict rule about moving prisoners through the halls which he couldn't take it upon himself to violate. Like the way hospitals insist on pushing you around in wheelchairs, she thought.

With Rachel's handcuffs locked to the slipchain once more, Boris gestured at Anya in an absent way to get back in her cell. Rachel thought about reminding him to free Anya's hands, since technically she had won the fight by forfeit, but decided not to stir anything up.

One of the guards trotted out of the room.

With Anya locked away safely, Boris attached a leash to Rachel's collar and led her up the aisle. Damn! she thought. Even now they have to treat me like an animal!

The absent guard returned with two dogs. Our night watchmen, Rachel thought.

Rachel looked back at Anya, back in her cell. Anya was up on her knees against the bars, watching. Rachel wished she could say goodbye to the sweet girl she probably would never see again, but she had neither the freedom to wave nor the words to speak. And maybe, she thought, I'll see her on the outside, after I get her released. That would be really nice, she told herself. I'd love to see what kind of life she makes for herself after she's free.

As Boris led Rachel across the drawbridge, Rachel was surprised to see the other guards fall in behind Boris, following. So that is why they needed the dogs now, thought Rachel. They're all coming along.

Rachel heaved a huge sigh as she reached the end of the drawbridge and followed Boris into the corridor outside. I'll never be stuck in that little cage again, she thought.

The guards all seemed to be in high spirits. They've probably never seen a big meeting with foreign dignitaries, Rachel thought. They don't want to miss it.

They passed closed doors identical to the one she had spent most of the last three days behind, behind each of which there were presumably another sixteen forlorn, hopeless, naked women in cages. Rachel's heart went out to them. I'll work on getting all of you out, she promised them in her thoughts.

After several turns, she was in a corridor she remembered as holding the general's office. Her lip curled. All the men here were monsters, but the general was the monster-in-chief. She remembered well that meeting in his office a few days ago, when he'd burned her passport, and had his men strip her and put her in chains. She'd be thrilled to see the man bowing down to a foreign ambassador. Or whoever was representing the ambassador.

Rachel blinked as they walked right past the general's office. Okay, she thought, maybe they're in a conference room.

She gasped as she saw a woman coming the other direction, towards them. The woman was completely naked, without even the metal restraints Rachel had thought all the women had to wear. At first sight of her Rachel's heart had leapt, thinking just for an instant it was Alina, but it was a different woman. Rachel watched the approaching woman with increasing awe. Despite her nudity, the woman somehow had presence and elegance, and a bearing that suggested she was accustomed to respect. She was also gorgeous, with delicate features, expensively styled hair, and subtle makeup that brought out her best features without seeming to be there. Rachel guessed she might be about thirty.

The woman was stone-faced, obviously unhappy about something, and seemed at first to ignore the parade surrounding Rachel, but her eyes widened and she greeted one of the guards -- Rachel realized in a moment it was Matt. The woman spoke to Matt briefly, and her smile seemed momentarily forced until she perfected it. Rachel had a sense... yes, she felt sure. She'd speculated earlier that Matt had been returning from some satisfying sexual encounter. Given that perception as a starting point, it seemed obvious this was the woman he'd been with.

And indeed, she looked well worth missing Play Time for.

So they have another woman like Alina, Rachel thought. Rachel didn't think Alina even knew about her. And this one, Rachel observed, had a lot more freedom of movement than Alina, who couldn't leave that suite of rooms in which Rachel had met her.

The woman moved on and stopped at the general's door, speaking with the man guarding it, who gave the door behind him a backhanded knock. She entered after a response from inside.

Boris continued on, leading Rachel by her leash behind him, the others still bringing up the rear.

Boris stopped in front of a door and spoke a question to the other guards. Getting a consensus of assent, Boris opened the door to a room that was small and, oddly, full of doors -- that is, the three walls other than the front each had four doors, all standing open to reveal tiny closets, each hardly twenty inches in width and depth. One of the doors, on the left wall, was closed, the others standing wide open. The closets, all with stone walls, were entirely empty.

Rachel shook her head slightly, unable to make a guess as to the function of the room. She'd been expecting a room with several people sitting in chairs around a table. But there were no people, no chairs, no table.

Boris led her to one of the doors along the back wall, and stopped. Rachel could see that the door frame was surrounded by a rubbery strip that would ensure that the door, when closed, made an airtight seal with the frame.

Boris unclipped Rachel's leash, and then gestured into the closet. "Go in."

Rachel's jaw dropped. "What?"

Apparently not in the mood to ask again, Boris gave her a sharp shove, making her stumble into the tiny closet, banging her shoulder against the back wall, then he closed the door, as Rachel shouted "No, wait!" and tried to throw herself back against the door as it finished closing with a loud clack of the latch, all light completely vanishing. Rachel's ears popped as the pressure rose with the closing of the airtight door. Too late, she banged against the metal surface. It seemed as utterly immovable as the rock of the other three walls.

She turned away and kicked the door at its base as hard as she could with her heel, and was rewarded only with a shooting pain in her leg. She braced her feet against the base of the back wall and leaned her back against the door. She shouted "Hey!" as loud as she could, and sensed somehow in the quality of the sound that all of it stayed in the closet with her, none of it penetrating outside.

She stood still, dumbfounded. This didn't fit any theory she'd had of what was going to happen to her.

She felt all around the floor with her feet, and pushed the front of her body against all of the walls, cycling quickly around the entire closet without finding openings of any kind.

They couldn't intend to keep her here for any length of time. There was no waste hole -- nor any airholes either. There was no movement of air that she could sense. If I stay in here, she thought, for more than... well, I don't know how long, but surely the time limit is less than a day, I'd suffocate.

She stood for a time, not having any idea what to do.

Okay, she thought, it's got to be a holding cell. They're going to keep me here for awhile. I may as well wait, because there's absolutely nothing else I can do.

She tried to sit, but the closet proved less wide than the length of her thighs: with her knees pressed hard against one wall, her butt scraped to a stop against the wall opposite, and she couldn't slide it down any farther. She couldn't do anything but stand.

Sighing, Rachel leaned her back against the wall to wait.

Yelena kept her face impassive as she returned to her room from the general's office, waiting until her door closed to slam both her fists against the wall.

The general had refused her request for more of the aphrodisiac tablets. They are unnecessary, he claimed, as long as Marya is still unconscious. They were only needed to convince Marya of Yelena's ardor for her. I can't have sex with all these men with a dry pussy, she had countered. You have baby oil, he pointed out. That should be sufficient.

It's not a matter of lubrication, she wanted to scream at him. It's a matter of having the ability to get some satisfaction from sexual intercourse versus feeling nothing more than that she was being forced to cooperate in her own rape. But she knew the general already understood that. He wanted it that way -- or more accurately, Dimitri wanted it that way.

Yelena sighed. At least the practice in using the oil would help her show Marya how to use it. Marya would surely need it for her own duties with the men. And when Marya had sex with Yelena, Yelena would pretend not to notice Marya wasn't getting wet on her own.

The general had also refused Yelena's request to be allowed to see Marya this afternoon. When your duties are done for the day, he'd said, then you may see your daughter. She won't notice you're there, he'd pointed out, but I suppose this is something mothers do.

At least he had seen her point about pubic hair. Women didn't shave it a generation ago, she'd said. And Marya knew that. Untrimmed pubic hair was necessary to the illusion that Yelena was trying to recreate the image of her younger self in Marya. Yes, said the general with a sigh, I will inform the men that they are not to request that you or Marya should be shaved.

In her room, Yelena quickly poured baby oil onto her fingers and pushed them up inside her.

She jumped slightly at the knock on the door. At her invitation, the door opened, and a man looked in.

She forced a smile, and said, "Hello, Mr. Grigorov." The man wasn't an officer, and she had only his nameplate to go by.

The man grinned and said, "Number five."

Maintaining the smile, Yelena dropped down to her hands and knees on the floor -- not the bed. That was number five. Number one was oral sex, number two was vaginal sex on her back, and so on. She was working on memorizing the list, hoping to have it firmly in mind by the time Marya started working. She wasn't sure how experienced Marya was with any of the positions. Yelena would probably need to teach some of them to Marya. Using a strap-on penis.

She heard trousers unzipping, and within a minute the man's hips were slapping against her buttocks, his erection buried deep inside her, both of then grunting at each impact.

She remembered this man so distinctly from her nude parade through the gauntlet of taunting men when she had first arrived. She remembered her fury at his disgusting assurance that he would have Yelena's daughter, have her body to use as he wanted. She remembered thinking she would do everything in her power to ensure he could not have what he wanted.

My power failed, she thought, moaning miserably inside herself. He's going to have her. He's going to use her for his own pleasure. And I will be there, and only be able to watch -- and act as if I'm happy to offer my daughter to him.

Yelena's character, the one she had worked so hard to inhabit, the character of Bad Mother, who had created a daughter to be her lover, almost disintegrated at that moment. She nearly whipped around to tear the manhood out of this man's body. She clung desperately to Bad Mother, forced herself back down into the character. I must do this, she told herself more forcefully than ever, I cannot fail in this. I'm doing it for Marya. For Marya. For Marya...