Boris spoke to the woman, and she gave him a very worried look as she stood, her chains clinking. Boris, to her obvious surprise, removed her ring gag, unlocked her wrist bands from the waist chain, and removed her hobble chain and slipchain. She clearly suspected she'd been singled out for something even worse than she'd anticipated. She was a pretty girl, with the full, pouty lips one often sees on models, firm breasts, about five-foot-six, the usual black hair in the standard brush-cut, and a bikini tan suggesting she hadn't been here very long. Rachel didn't know her name. She knew the names of none of her teammates other than Anya. Rachel had warmed this one coming out of the snow many times, of course, and been warmed by her many other times. It meant nothing to Rachel other than offering help to someone in need, and receiving it in return. She had nothing against this woman. But she had no particular interest in her.

Boris addressed a longer speech to the woman, who shot Rachel a look of surprise and obvious gratitude. She relaxed, and threw her arms back a few times to loosen them up, not having been able to put them behind her for many days, perhaps for all her time since arriving.

Rachel felt the knife twist in her again. Anya heard what Boris just said, she told herself. About me choosing this woman, not Anya, to stay in my cell tonight and not be raped. Rachel couldn't read a reaction in Anya, but was sure of how hurt she must feel.

As Boris continued speaking, Rachel could easily see the woman's face fall as she became... nervous, not frightened. She looked at Rachel for an instant and then quickly away, and to Rachel it seemed the woman was blushing. On the floor, Anya suddenly twisted her head to look up at Boris in wide-eyed astonishment. That, more than anything else, gave Rachel a queasy feeling. The number of different personalities and emotions in play exceeded Rachel's ability to make any sense of it.

Boris said still more to the woman, and her face now fell into the expected expression of terror. Okay, thought Rachel, I can make sense of that. Boris is threatening her somehow. Now the woman was nodding at Boris vigorously, while stealing more glances at Rachel.

At last Boris turned to Rachel, with ill-disguised self-satisfaction. With a nasty smile, he said, "I say her you like girls." Rachel blinked, her queasy feeling growing stronger. That, she thought, must be what Anya had reacted to. It was fine if Anya believed that, but Rachel was sure she herself wouldn't like where this was going. "I say I do nice for you, because you finish first today in game. You have her tonight. I say her she has job of make you happy tonight wit' sex. If she do not, if you say me in morning she not do good job, den I put her all day tomorrow night like I do dese two tonight." He indicated Anya and the other woman. "And also bad whipping. You very happy to have girl make sex you, yes? Okay you smile."

Rachel understood he was telling her to act pleased and excited. She wasn't sure what kind of expression she had on her face. She was sure it looked amazed, at the least. Apparently that was good enough.

With that same nasty smile, Boris said, "You have nice long time wit' her, all night. You keep her busy, she keep you busy." He casually put his hand along the upper edge of the cell across from Rachel. It was within an inch of the tiny camera he'd placed there two nights earlier. Boris's smile widened when he saw Rachel's eyes track his hand and fix on the camera. He gave her a small nod. There was no need for him to spell it out for her.

Rachel could tell Boris was speaking carefully in case the woman spoke any English, so that she would continue believing Rachel was being "rewarded." His wordless reminder of the existence of the camera was his way of telling Rachel she would be under observation -- probably, under the circumstances, she would be watched even more closely than usual, by men who would find her performance entertaining, while they made sure she did what was expected of her. As with any other order to Rachel from the guards, Anya would be tortured if Rachel's effort was insufficient.

Boris made a shooing gesture towards Rachel's cell. Rachel, her mind spinning, ducked down and backed into her cell, taking a seat on the floor with her arms wrapped around her shins. The other woman, biting her lip, looking scared, nervous, and apologetic, moving hesitantly and then suddenly quickly, as if afraid her rescue from tonight's torment might be cancelled if she didn't take the opportunity offered, knelt down and squeezed in beside Rachel. Rachel moved aside as the woman's hip brushed against her own. They sat side by side, their hips pressed together because there wasn't enough width to the cell for them to separate, looking forward at the door of the cell, both of them flinching as Boris suddenly swung the door shut. It locked with a heavy clang.

The woman looked at Rachel and then quickly away, then looked at her again, and spoke briefly, a question that Rachel suspected must be something like "What do you want me to do?"

I don't want you to do anything, thought Rachel. I want you just to sit there and stay away from me. But Rachel knew how much trouble she would be in if she didn't get started, soon, on the required amorous activity. More accurately, how much trouble Anya would be in.

Rachel wondered if Boris had thought this up all by himself. It had looked spontaneous, but maybe that was for show.

I have to start, Rachel told herself. I have to start now.

She turned her head to look directly at the girl. Her heart was pounding, and she supposed that was helpful. She knew she needed to look excited. Trembling and heavy breathing would fit in. She was surely doing enough of both.

She moved her arm behind the girl's back, letting her hand glide softly up and down the skin, from her far hip to a point just below her breasts. It's okay to start slowly, Rachel decided. That would seem natural. Even this much felt strange to Rachel, making a blatant erotic come-on to a nude woman, one she didn't even know -- one who clearly found the gesture unwelcome. The girl bit her lip, letting go a nervous whimper. I can already tell, thought Rachel, that she has absolutely no inclination towards women herself. She's terrified of what she knows she has to do. Rachel tried to remember, and decided she had not yet seen this girl forced into sex with any of the other prisoners during Play Time. Since she hasn't been here long, Rachel thought, this may very well be her first time ever. She's seen it happen, she's been dreading it, and now suddenly it's her turn.

Of the two of them, only Rachel knew what was going on -- everything that was going on. The girl, it seemed, had been led to believe that Rachel was a sex-starved lesbian being rewarded for her efforts in the game today, and that if she didn't satisfy Rachel sexually, Rachel was prepared to denounce her to the guards, leading to a punishment for her more severe than what Anya and the other woman were about to experience. Her motivation was based on her ignorance of what Boris's little joke was really about. And Rachel had no way to enlighten her.

Rachel's motivation was based on knowing exactly what Boris was doing. She knew that she and the girl would be watched, on a secret camera the girl didn't know about. Rachel had to assume that if she didn't put a sincere effort into tonight's performance, Anya's suffering would make what was about to happen to her now seem painless by comparison. They would make sure of that.

And Rachel knew that Anya's upcoming physical suffering tonight would hardly compare with her emotional suffering: feeling the pain of Rachel's rejection, and then having to watch while Rachel made another woman into her sexual playmate. Anya had heard everything Boris said to this woman. She knew what was happening, or what Boris wanted her to think was happening.

I have to blast Anya's feelings all to hell, Rachel thought. The woman I love. She doesn't know how much worse physical pain I am protecting her from.

In a shaky voice, the girl repeated, as far as Rachel could tell, the question she'd asked earlier. Rachel said helplessly, "I'm sorry, I don't know any Russian."

The girl at least seemed to catch on to that problem quickly, probably because she knew Rachel was the woman to whom Boris always spoke in that mysterious language. Clearly the girl, just like the rest, knew no English at all, or she would be trying to use it now.

The girl looked at Rachel helplessly, making abortive movements as if to take Rachel's hand, or kiss her, or at least do something intimate, but stopped each time, her face flushing, the blush deepening by the second.

Finally she found one thing she could do to begin to bridge some of the distance between them: touching her hand to her chest, she said, "Kristina."

Rachel made a similar gesture and said, "Rachel."

Kristina gave Rachel a spastic attempt at a smile. "Pryvet, Retchell."

Rachel clamped down hard on the sigh that tried to escape her throat. She needed to look excited, thrilled. She gave Kristina back a smile that, she hoped, looked better than Kristina's. "Pryvet, Kristina." I've had this conversation before, thought Rachel. The memory of Anya introducing herself after Rachel had saved her from a painful whipping, simply for being trapped out in the snow, washed over Rachel. Anya's gratitude had been so sweet, so welcome, so needed.

And now look what I'm doing to her, thought Rachel miserably.

But I have to do it, she reminded herself again, and I definitely have to be trying harder here. I've barely touched Kristina. I'm the one who's supposed to want her. I have to act like it.

A visual image came into Rachel's mind, of something that would make it easier for both of them. She made a gesture to Kristina that she hoped would be taken as "Sit still, let me start this." Kristina flinched as Rachel pulled back her right leg, adjacent to Kristina, and swung it around Kristina's waist. It was awkward, with barely enough room in the cell for the maneuver. Rachel then squirmed around behind Kristina so that Kristina's butt was up against Rachel's crotch. Rachel put her arms around Kristina's waist, joining her hands together in front of the girl's stomach, and leaned down to rub her lips against Kristina's shoulder.

At least I know for sure, now, that I'm not a lesbian, thought Rachel. I'm sitting here with my arms and legs around a pretty naked girl, and I don't feel anything except wanting to be somewhere else, anywhere else.

At the same time, Rachel knew it would feel very, very different if it were Anya. She wished so much that it could be Anya. I'm not homosexual, Rachel told herself, but I'm pretty positive I'm not heterosexual anymore either. Rachel found herself wincing at the idea of ever touching a man again, after all she had been through.

I'm Anya-sexual, Rachel explained to herself.

Outside the cell, Rachel could see that Anya had turned her face away. However hurt Anya had felt at Rachel's rejection of her five minutes ago, Rachel knew Anya felt much more so now, seeing Rachel fondling Kristina. Rachel had to freeze all thought, for the moment, and work to keep herself from crying.

Rachel moved the palm of her right hand slowly on Kristina's skin, on her stomach, her thigh, her hip, as if enjoying the sensual contact, while still kissing Kristina's shoulder gently. She and Kristina both remained silent as the rapes began.

Matt, his pants removed, went down on his knees behind Anya, who made a hopeless, resigned moaning sound, and he quickly thrust into her and started pumping; his erection had been visibly ready before his pants dropped. Beyond Rachel's view, she could hear one of the other team's guards start pumping into the other woman, him grunting while thrusting, her echoing it after each impact.

Matt finished quickly, and meanwhile another of the other team's guards took a turn at the other woman, obviously her mouth this time, judging from the choking sounds. The last remaining guard from the other team took Matt's place behind Anya -- anal sex this time, each thrust accompanied by a cry of pain from Anya.

Each cry from Anya seemed to stab Rachel's ears like an icepick.

Pay attention to what you're doing, Rachel, she ordered herself. Rachel's mind focused on Anya's far worse punishment if Rachel failed to be an ardent lover for Kristina. As alien as the move seemed to Rachel -- she knew exactly how Kristina would feel about it -- she moved her right hand higher to fondle the girl's right breast softly, opening her mouth at the same time to let her tongue brush across Kristina's shoulder for the first time. Rachel made some soft sighing and moaning noises. She partially closed her eyes, keeping them open just a slit to keep track of what was happening to Anya.

Kristina made a brief move as if intending to push away Rachel's offending hand, but stopped herself, for fear of... Rachel understood that Kristina's greatest fear was of Rachel herself. Stop worrying, Rachel tried to convey telepathically to Kristina. I'm not going to make them hurt you. But that constant damned language barrier made it impossible for Rachel to reassure the girl.

Kristina had no idea what to do with her hands -- after fluttering them briefly, she let them drop to her sides. She clearly wanted no further intimate contact with Rachel than absolutely necessary, and seemed to decide for the time being that being Rachel's pliant sex toy was sufficient. She was making some sighing sounds of her own, imitating Rachel, but Rachel could see Kristina's eyes were wide open, and her facial expression conveyed fear more than anything else.

After the guard finished his assault on Anya, Rachel assumed Boris and Igor would decide between them which available woman to make use of, but to her horror, saw that they were standing on either end of Anya, Boris behind her, Igor already lifting Anya's head to push his stiff manhood into her mouth. Anya was pushed back and forth between them like a tennis ball during a seemingly endless rally. Boris finished first with a heavy grunt, while Igor continued pushing himself into Anya's mouth, and drawing gagging sounds out of her, for a minute longer.

Once Igor was finished, Matt stood by, holding some ropes. Rachel had heard Boris say something to Matt before taking Anya. Probably he'd sent him out for this equipment.

Boris ordered Anya up onto her knees, removed Anya's ring gag and replaced it with one of those godawful penis gags. He unlocked Anya's handcuffs from her waist chain, then locked them together behind her back. He unlocked and removed her hobble chain, and had her lie flat on her stomach. He then went to retrieve some of the ropes. One of them was exceptionally long, and Boris tied its end to one of the bars in a cell door on the side across from Rachel, some distance behind Anya, then ran the free end under Anya's stomach to loop it around the front of her waist chain, then up along her crotch, under the back of her waist chain, then lifted her feet up, pulling them close to her butt, and looped the rope around her ankles, tying them tightly together. Enough rope remained so that he could take it back and tie it to the same cell bar where he had started.

Rachel tried to keep an aroused expression on her face, her eyes still lidded, her lips parted when they weren't kissing Kristina's shoulder, knowing the tiny camera across from her cell was surely watching her now. She kept fondling Kristina's breast, running her index finger back and forth across the nipple. She could see Kristina's eyes growing bigger, her breath coming faster, her teeth biting her lip as she watched what was happening to Anya -- what would have been happening to Kristina now if not for Rachel's intercession, and what would be done to her tomorrow if she was insufficiently responsive to Rachel's advances.

Boris now took another long rope and tied it around the fastened-together handcuffs behind Anya's back. What he did next to complete Anya's elaborate bondage stopped Rachel's breathing altogether. Rachel continued to tell herself not to betray any emotion, but she very nearly lost control at this point, as she watched Boris pull on the free end of this last rope, making Anya raise her arms up behind her back. Anya instinctively squirmed forward, rocking from side to side to inch ahead on the floor, trying to relieve the strain in her shoulders, though every inch forward pulled her ankles away from her butt and caused the rope running through her crotch to pull tighter and tighter between her buttocks and across her sex. Boris continued pulling on the rope, forcing Anya to wriggle farther forward, further tightening the crotch rope. At last, the tension in the crotch rope made it impossible for Anya to go any farther, and Boris, maintaining the tension in his rope, keeping Anya's arms high up behind her, finally tied it to another cell bar on Rachel's side of the aisle. Anya squealed in pain, then moaned, a desolate sound of abject misery.

Rachel wanted to close her eyes completely, but couldn't take her eyes away from Anya. Her compulsion to rip Boris's face off returned, but now she couldn't do anything about it. She felt pain in sympathy with Anya's suffering, but knew it was just a tenth as much as Anya was actually going through -- Anya would feel the rough rope trying to saw her in half at the crotch, yet if she tried to back up along the floor to relieve that pain, the strain in her shoulders would increase to the point of feeling as if her arms were being ripped away.

Rachel had no doubt they had tied the other woman in the same way. She hoped it was the final bit of punishment for the women who had caused their team to lose the contest this afternoon -- punishment from which Boris had offered Rachel a phony opportunity to save Anya, knowing Rachel would have to use it on one of the other women instead.

Rachel knew that if she offered Anya any comfort, or even caught her eyes if Anya turned towards her, then Anya's current pain would be just a tenth as much as she would later be made to suffer -- at Rachel's hands.

Rachel decided she needed to concentrate more on her cellmate. She pushed her feet underneath Kristina's legs and then drew them towards her, forming a tight cocoon around Kristina. She started wriggling her hips against Kristina's butt, and moaned louder. Finally she put her left hand on the side of Kristina's face and gently turned the girl's face towards her, to kiss her for the first time, gradually opening her mouth wider and probing in Kristina's mouth with her tongue. Kristina's eyes were wide open in shock, and she briefly tried to pull away, then once again stopped herself from resisting.

This, thought Rachel, feels so much more shameful than what they made me do with the Amazon. Rachel and the Amazon had been tied immovably in place, with no choice in the intimately entangled position forced on them by the guards. Here, Rachel pointed out to herself, I have to do this on my own. I decide what parts of Kristina to touch with my body, my hands, my mouth. And Kristina, for her own equally compelling reasons, is going to make herself play a more active role, soon, than she has so far. I am not looking forward to that.

Rachel wondered for a moment how long she would have to continue simulating sex, and her breath caught when an echo of Boris's words came back to her: "You have nice long time wit' her, all night. You keep her busy, she keep you busy."

All night! The words went around and around in Rachel's head. He means we can't stop! We're not allowed to sleep! I don't know if he told Kristina that -- in fact, he might have avoided saying it so she could find out on her own. For as long as I seem to want sex with her, she'll know she has to respond!

All night, until morning and the food cart arrived to begin a new day -- a new, shivering, freezing work day -- Rachel would have to continue her erotic use of Kristina's body, in an active, visible way.

And all of it right in front of Anya! While every part of Anya's body is aching from her bondage, she'll see what she could have been doing instead if I'd wanted her! She'll watch me do it with someone else! Damn it! DAMN IT!

One of the other team's guards had by now returned with the dogs, from wherever they were kenneled during the day. The guards, apparently satisfied tonight to combine Rape Time and Play Time into a single event, filed out, exchanging comments and chuckles, letting the dogs take over.

The dogs patrolled briefly as usual, ducking under the ropes securing Anya and the other woman in place, then retired, as usual, to the front of the aisle.

Rachel felt no surprise the guards had gone off and left Anya in such a painful position. She had expected that from the start.

A change in the tone of Anya's moaning attracted Rachel's attention once more, and Rachel, not moving her head, looked at Anya through slitted eyes. Anya had turned her head and was now looking again in Rachel's direction. Rachel moaned in response, a sound that luckily fit in with her physical attentions to Kristina. Rachel knew Anya had decided she had to try to get some comfort from seeing Rachel, just from seeing her. Even though all she could see was Rachel making love with another woman.

Awkwardly, with almost no space to maneuver, Rachel inched her way out from behind Kristina to work her away around to face her, sitting now between Kristina's thighs, her own legs still around Kristina's waist. I have to, she told herself. If I keep looking at Anya I'm going to burst out crying. That can't happen. I'm sorry, Anya, she thought, I'm sorry for turning my back on you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Kristina was looking into Rachel's eyes, with that same fear she'd been showing the entire time.

Just do it, Rachel, she ordered herself. Don't think about it. Just go nuts.

Rachel reached up to take both of Kristina's breasts in her hands, and leaned ahead to plunge her tongue into Kristina's mouth, pinning Kristina's head against the back wall of the cell, with her lips mashed hard against Kristina's. Rachel made animal-like grunts of desire and began grinding her crotch against Kristina's.

No, Rachel thought despairingly, I have to show the camera! I have to make sure they can see what I'm doing! She kept one hand on Kristina's breast, fondling it, mauling it, while she put her other arm around Kristina to turn her upper body to the side sufficiently so that the camera could have a side view of the kiss. Though she knew that meant Anya could see it clearly as well.

Still kissing Kristina, and now rubbing every available surface of Kristina's skin with both hands, Rachel reflected on how meaningless sex seemed -- all sex. She had enjoyed it with the few men with whom she had shared it, before coming to this place, but what was it other than bumping bodies pointlessly?

But her mind came back to Anya. How much she wanted to feel the warmth and softness of Anya against her, feel Anya's heart beating in time with her own, to see Anya's smile and know she herself had inspired it. That means something, Rachel told herself. But I'll never experience it.

Rachel and Anya had spent their lifetimes separated by half a world, and now that they had met, against all odds, a cage door had clanged shut between them, forever separating them.

The thought made Rachel as despondent as she had ever been.

Outside the cell, Rachel could hear Anya crying. That same heartbroken sound Rachel had been hearing for days.

Anya made herself stop crying. It won't help, she told herself. Nobody will feel sympathy. Nobody will stop the pain.

I just want the pain to end, she thought. I want it to end forever.

Since she was inside her own head, Anya didn't have to explain to herself that she didn't mean physical pain. She had that now, certainly, with that strain in her shoulders and arms, raw scratching of the rope running tightly through her crotch, and residual ache from the rapes. Not to mention everything that had happened to her in the weeks she had been here. She no longer knew exactly how many weeks it had been.

No, she thought, that pain, the physical pain, I just have to live with that. It's what my life is about now.

But the pain from missing Retchell. It hurts too much.

Retchell had hit her in the face once, but that was nothing. They had made Retchell do that. And Anya had seen how sorry Retchell was, long before she had taught Anya the word "sorry" in her language. Anya never blamed Retchell for that, any more than she blamed Kalina for whipping her. That's just what happens here, Anya reminded herself. When somebody does something really bad, then they make them hurt someone else.

But the pain of Retchell abandoning her. For no reason. Anya couldn't bear it. She hadn't done anything to deserve it. Anya just couldn't understand.

It was her nightmare, in real life.

For years, ever since she had started getting interested in boys, Anya had had a bad dream at night, a few times every month. There would be a boy in the dream -- sometimes it was one Anya knew at school and liked, not always the same boy, just whichever one Anya was interested in at the time -- and sometimes it was just purely a dream boy, someone cute Anya had made up in her head. The start of the dream was very nice. The boy would be excited to be with her, he'd bring her flowers, dance with her, give her a quick kiss as she giggled, and she knew that she was falling in love with the dream boy, and that they'd share their lives together. The way she wished it would happen in real life. But then, in the dream, suddenly there would be a change. The boy would suddenly seem to forget Anya was there. He was sitting right next to her, but he would casually look at his watch, think about someplace he was supposed to be, and wander off without a word or a glance. She would yell at him: Wait, where are you going, come back! But though he was only a few meters away, he couldn't hear her. She wasn't able to chase him. She could only sit dumbfounded as he forgot her existence and drifted aimlessly away.

And now: Retchell.

That night after Retchell had hit her, and obviously felt so bad about it, Retchell had reached into Anya's cell to comfort her. And feeling Retchell's hand on her breast -- it was like an electrical shock that didn't hurt at all, it only spread warmth through Anya's entire body.

With Retchell teaching Anya her language and learning Russian, just so they could talk more to each other, with Retchell touching her, feeling so warm against her when Anya was shivering from the cold, with Retchell smiling at her, Anya forgot how awful everything else here was. The freezing cold, the fear of the guards, the rapes on most nights, the pain from various staged fights she almost always lost -- none of that mattered when she was with Retchell. Anya remembered how Retchell seemed so excited to show her snow, just so she could teach Anya her word for it and learn Anya's.

Anya had stopped imagining there could ever be anything she could feel happy about in this place. Happy was a dead emotion. But Retchell had made it alive again.

And then Retchell just wandered off and forgot her.

Maybe that's what the dream always meant, she thought. It was something that was going to happen in real life, as soon as I fell in love.

Anya hadn't called it love at first. She'd never imagined having that kind of feeling for a woman. It wasn't right, it wasn't normal. But nothing in this place was normal. Anya no longer had any ghost of an interest in men. She fervently wished, somehow, she could never see another penis in her life, but knew she always would, the guards would always use her any way they wanted. Men were horrible.

But Retchell was magical. She could touch Anya and make her want to live again. Anya had been having dreams about Retchell that weren't like the nightmare. Dreams where she and Retchell made love and never wanted to stop.

But Retchell stopped.

It hurt so bad.

Anya had tried to end the pain herself: today, in the big race. Anya had somehow thought Retchell would stay with her, and they could run together through the snow. She didn't know why she'd thought that. She supposed she must have thought wishing would make it come true. But Retchell hadn't looked at her, just like she hadn't been looking at Anya for days. Retchell just ran away from her, leaving her to run by herself.

Anya hadn't seen the two big women coming at her until they were right in front of her. It was as if two blurry trees had suddenly moved and hit her, knocking her on her back.

Anya had sat up, trying to clear her head. She could see blurred shapes in the distance, of the other women. She knew one of them was Retchell, and she was sure Retchell would come back to help her. But all of the shapes up ahead had just run on.

Anya had started crying, the tears freezing on her cheeks. Then she just lay back, on her back in the snow. She was in a small hollow, and couldn't see back to the window room while she was lying down. The guards wouldn't see her. She could just lie there for awhile and the pain would end and never come back.

But then two of her teammates, running back to their own room, had seen her, had come over to her, had both picked her up with hands under her shoulders and dragged her back to the window room. She'd tried to tell them to leave her alone, but it was too cold and her mouth wouldn't work.

Back in the window room, all the women from the other team had piled on top of her, rubbing back and forth, until she stopped shivering.

She knew she would never get another chance: so easy to end it, with no guards to interfere, but those women had dragged her back to the world of Retchell-less pain.

Anya had walked like a zombie to the shower. And then the snake in the shower room made her forget Retchell, just for a few minutes. She couldn't see the snake, but the other women screamed and said there was one.

When she was five years old, Anya had gone to bed one night and found a snake hiding under the covers. She'd screamed for an hour back then, and had to sleep in her parents' bed for a month.

She hated snakes. She hated this place. She hated the women who had brought her back inside to keep hurting, one of whom was making love with Retchell right before her eyes. The only thing she didn't hate was Retchell. And Retchell hated her.

She started crying again.