Conflict Resolution

CONFLICT RESOLUTION

PART 1

Leafing through the pack of papers in the back of the taxi, Laura cursed. Why
she was going along with this she had no idea. Two years she had spent building
this case. Looking over the latest submission, the witness statements, she was
proud of what she and her team had achieved. The arguments were unusually strong
and compelling. And they had built it up, bolstered it from a quite uncertain
beginning, through sheer effort. Now she wished it were a proper criminal case,
instead of this civil arbitration, but she was comforted by the thought that the
former would surely follow a successful outcome for the plaintiffs. Yes, Charles
Feierlein, Charlie, Chuck, whatever your friends call you, the net is finally
closing. Corporate raider, swindler, embezzler, common thief. Rich, yes;
powerful, yes. But you won't be the first big hitter to go down. And the
shareholders will get their compensation in the end, however long it takes.

And now her boss, her senior partner, had just told her to go over and meet with
this scum at his office. Why? Because his lawyer had called up one of his mates
who also happened to be a senior partner at her firm. To what end? He didn't
know. Probably wants to deal, he told her. Why deal, at this stage, when our
hand is so strong, she had asked. Maybe six months ago it would have made sense.
Cut short these interminable proceedings, get a good return to her clients. But
now -it made no sense. Just hear him out, he had said. Well, OK, she would hear
him out. But she would tell him straight that she could see no point in
discussing any kind of out-of-court settlement. Especially after the tactics his
legal team had employed during the last round.

The taxi pulled up. Laura paid, ten percent tip, exactly, and got out. She
looked up at the towering, ostentatious offices of CFF Corporation, just one of
about thirty group companies she had been investigating. Even more lavish than
her own firm's, she thought with a cynical smile.

In the reception, Laura sat staring at her wristwatch. Ten minutes late already.
She looked at the woman behind the desk, who ignored her. How tacky, she
thought. Did he really think that he could throw her off balance using that old
trick?

Finally, a PA approached, quite attractive, smiling, and invited Laura to
accompany her. She was ushered through a large pair of fine wooden doors and
spotted him seated behind a square desk. It looked like mahogany, clearly the
most expensive one he had been able to find. She was unimpressed: with his desk,
with him, with this whole charade.

"Look, Mr Feierlein, I..." she started. He cut her off with a smooth gesture.

"Please, Miss...ah...Koczy -have I pronounced that correctly? Good. Do take a
seat. Can I offer you some tea or coffee? Oh yes, and may I introduce you to Mr
Harris over there?"

Mr Harris, whom she had not previously noticed, was sitting on a leather sofa to
her right. He smiled at her, nodding briefly. A bit rough-looking, she thought.
Unshaven, cheap suit, dirty shoes. She had expected Jacobs, the chief company
lawyer, to be present. But this guy seemed out of place.

She was slightly unnerved by the fact that neither of the men bothered to get up
to shake her hand. Laura sat down somewhat awkwardly on the chair in the middle
of the room and began to open her briefcase.

"Are you sure you won't have tea or coffee?" the grey-haired man behind the desk
asked again, pleasantly.

"Oh...no thanks" she replied, politely.

"Look, Mr Feierlein", she continued, "I really think that we are all wasting our
time here. My firm has no interest in negotiating with you at this point. Next
week's hearing is fixed and we expect that our submission will leave the judges
no alternative but to find entirely in my clients' favour. If you want to talk
about our damages calculation we can do so after the preliminary award."

"Now, Miss Koczy, do calm down" replied Feierlein. What a lovely young thing, he
thought as he looked her over. A little thin for his tastes, but tall with
strong features and glossy black hair, and wide, full lips. Very smart too, as
he had found to his cost.

"I really don't like to get off to a bad start with a lady as lovely as
yourself."

This really was too much, thought Laura. What a sexist pig. The arrogance of the
man, the vanity. To think that he could soften her up with this inept charm
offensive.

"I'm leaving", she said, closing her case and rising abruptly from her chair.

"Please, Miss Koczy, give me a chance to explain" he pressed, urgently. Laura
sat down again, hesitating.

"Now I know that you think I am a bad man but I would ask you to give me the
benefit of the doubt just in this case. Business, especially my line, is one
great big grey area as you know. Nobody can tell at the time when they are
crossing the boundaries. If only we were all blessed with hindsight...well of
course the world would be a much better place." As he spoke he tipped back in
his chair. He was clearly completely at ease.

"I acknowledge that there may have been some error of judgement on my part" he
continued. "So I am willing now to discuss some form of settlement. I'll be
straightforward with you. See, I don't even have any lawyers here so you can
consider me completely unarmed." He smiled at this, and Laura smiled too. "How
would you like to begin, Miss Koczy?"

The man was talking like a complete fool, thought Laura. Where did he plan to go
with this faux-naif crap?

"I'm sorry, Mr Feierlein", she replied. "Of course you are predictably trying to
charm your way out of a situation in which your legal team cannot help you. The
reason you are in this situation is that you cheated hundreds of people out of
their savings and the evidence against you which we have accumulated is
overwhelming." Laura paused. "It's time for me to leave." She stood up.

"Oh dear" said Feierlein. "I can see I'm not persuading you. I guess I need to
try another line of attack." He paused. "Could you help me a moment?"

The grey-haired man opened his desk drawer and rummaged around, finding a pair
of scissors which he placed on the desktop next to a pile of paper while he
continued to search with his other hand. Then he produced a roll of black tape
and proceeded to pull out a length with a loud tearing sound.

"Could you cut about six inches of this?" he asked her. Laura was confused. What
on earth was he doing? But, well mannered as she was and seeing no reason to
refuse, she obliged, picking up the scissors and making a neat cut in the taught
material. She put down the scissors gently. Feierlein held the tape between his
hands.

Then she heard the creak of the sofa and looked round to see the other man
getting up. Before she could turn he was behind her, grabbing her wrists. She
heard metallic noises and suddenly felt steel against her skin. A ratcheting
sound. Ouch. And her hands were cuffed tightly behind her back.

Laura was paralysed with shock. Her head span. She should scream, she thought.
But even now her inhibitions prevented such an active response. And then,
suddenly, Feierlein was pressing the tape over her mouth. At last, in vain, she
tried to cry out. She struggled but the man behind held her tightly by the upper
arms, his stubby fingers digging into her flesh, and had his foot in front of
her, his leg blocking hers.

She stared at Feierlein, wide-eyed. The man looked at her dispassionately. Oh
God, what are they going to do to me, she thought. Help, someone help. Stop,
please stop. Please. Please.

Feierlein approached. "Hold her tight" he said over her shoulder. Then he seized
her blouse and ripped it open, sending buttons pinging onto the floor. He pulled
it over her shoulders and down to her wrists. Her chest was heaving under a
white, unembroidered bra. Turning to his desk, he picked up a silver
letter-opener and brought it towards her body. The girl, terrified at the sight
of the knife, struggled desperately. Harris held her fast. Feierlein lifted the
bra from her skin and cut through the elastic with the knife, letting her
breasts spill out. Very choice, he thought at the sight of them. Nice and soft
and firm. Young flesh. He took them in his big hands, squeezing them hard,
causing the girl to jerk away. Moaning, she looked to one side, too embarrassed
to meet his eyes. He rolled her nipples between his thumbs and fingers, feeling
them swell.

Then his hands were at her waist, unbuckling her slacks, pulling them down over
her hips and letting them fall to her ankles. The girl's legs were shaking
violently as he yanked down her panties to her knees, revealing a dark triangle
of pubic hair. As he bent down, he caught the faint smell of her sex.

Returning to his desk, he sat back in his chair. Harris had her by the hair, his
other hand round her waist. She was breathing heavily, straining to draw air
through her nostrils, which flared. Her abdominal muscles were tense beneath
Harris's hand, breasts quivering as she struggled. She was looking at him,
shocked and confused and appalled.

"Bring her over" he told Harris.

Laura, by now shaking and moaning desperately, was propelled forward towards the
desk. She had to move her feet quickly to stop tripping over, making little
steps. Then her thighs were against the wood and the hand gripping her hair was
forcing her head forward. No, she tried to scream into the tape gag, terrified.
She tried to resist with all her energy, fighting to keep her body vertical. She
managed to hold herself for a second or so but then her strength was gone and
her face came down hard against the desktop. A hand was pressed between her
shoulder blades, crushing her breasts into the leather surface. She screwed up
her eyes. God help me, she prayed.

She heard Feierlein's voice. "Go on" he said, calmly.

The hand pressing down on her was released but she remained petrified in
position, bent over the desk. She felt the cool, conditioned air on her buttocks
and between her thighs. She heard sounds: a belt being unbuckled; a zipper being
unzipped; a throat being cleared. A man preparing to rape her.

Rape: run, get free, kick, scream, do anything, fight or flight. Up, up, get up
girl...

She tried to rise but he was already on her, grabbing her hair, forcing her head
to one side, hand between her legs, spreading them. God that's his penis,
searching, no, no he's...

And then he was inside her: one, two strokes, all the way in with the third. He
began to work her slowly, taking his time, enjoying the action of opening up her
vagina. Laura tried to move away but the hands gripping her hair and pressing on
the small of her back held her firmly in place. The table creaked with each
movement. Laura's breasts were stuck to the leather. Her left nipple was caught
awkwardly and it stung each time she was forced forward.

She tried to look up at Feierlein, who was seated just a foot or two from her
head. He had picked up the phone and was looking at a diary. On the desk was a
glass of water, the surface rippling in time to Harris's thrusts. Next to it, a
pile of papers: her submission. Focussing her eyes, she could see the words,
askew --her words, double-spaced. She tried to follow the text as she was rocked
back and forth, to take her mind away from what was being done to her. Harris
slowed his pace, paused, then rammed hard into her body, breaking the spell and
forcing a loud grunt from the back of her throat.

"Keep it down" whispered Feierlein loudly, cupping the handset. He was actually
talking to someone on the phone. "Sorry about the noise. Workers. Yes. Making a
real mess as usual."

Suddenly, Laura was released and the man withdrew. Before she could move, she
felt his hands parting her buttocks. Then, his penis was against her anus. The
sensation triggered a difficult memory: that awful night with Jack, when he had
persuaded her to turn over. She remembered the pain, the shame, the crying as he
held her afterwards. Now her eyes again filled with tears. She screamed as he
entered her easily, using her own juices to lubricate himself, and her eyes
rolled back in their sockets. She winced as his shaft penetrated her, stretching
her delicate tissues. Pain seared through her rectum.

Feierlein had put down the phone and looked directly at her, callously.

"Get on with it" he said to the man behind her. "We don't have all day."

At this, Harris abruptly quickened his pace and Laura found herself being rammed
hard against the sharp corner of the desk. Her thighs smarted as the wood dug
into her flesh. Then, suddenly, it was almost over. She felt him pause, and
swell against her tight passage. She shut her eyes as he ejaculated into her
bowels with a loud sigh. "Bitch", he muttered.

He withdrew, catching her rectal muscles painfully with his still-swollen glans
as he did. Then he unlocked and removed the handcuffs. Laura, shattered, did not
react and remained face down on the desk, weeping. Feierlein, reaching over,
unpeeled the tape from her mouth. "Get up" he said to her.

Shaking, Laura lifted her chest from the desk. Her breasts left an outline in
sweat on the leather surface. She stood, weakly, arms quivering, supporting the
weight of her upper body with hands gripping the wooden edge. She could not look
at the man who had sat and watched her being raped and so she hung her head.
Again she looked at the shape of the marks on the leather. In addition to the
crescents of sweat formed by her breasts, she saw a pool of tears above and
another deposit below, near the edge of the desk.  The liquids formed an
imprint, like a chalk outline around a removed corpse: evidence of a terrible
crime.

A white handkerchief, folded, was tossed in front of her, caught in its path by
the sweaty patch.

"Dry yourself" came the voice again.

Humiliated, Laura picked up the cloth and wiped her eyes, nose and breasts. Then
she pressed it between her legs, mopping up the juices from her thighs. The
material was soaked by the time she had finished and, not knowing what to do
with it, she held it in her hand.

She was ordered to dress, which she did as best she could, pulling up her
panties and slacks and holding her blouse together with her left hand. She
looked up at Feierlein.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked, pitifully.

Feierlein looked back at her without malice. "I guess I'll call you a cab." He
picked up the phone and spoke to his secretary.

Laura, dazed, unable to absorb either what had just happened or was now
happening, was led out into the reception. She looked at the floor to avoid
seeing the man who had hurt her. At the door, her bag was handed to her and she
closed her fingers reflexively around the handle.

"Your cab will be waiting outside the main entrance" the secretary announced,
giving her a contemptuous look. Laura shuffled over to the elevator and
automatically pressed the call button. As she stood looking at the crack between
the steel doors, she could feel eyes on her but did not turn round. Then, at
last, the doors opened and she was inside, stabbing the door-close frantically
as if it were a panic button.

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.

PART 3

Laura lay on her side in the pitch black room, her left shoulder throbbing from
her weight against the hard floor. She was relieved to be alone at last but also
apprehensive. Suppose they never came back for her? She felt hungry and parched
and wondered how long she would last here. Whether they might overestimate how
long she would survive and come back to find her lifeless.

The darkness was hard on her. Without any distraction, the events of the day
pushed forward into her consciousness relentlessly and she found herself crying
out and weeping. Her body felt used and evacuated, as if she were an empty husk.
And her mind, attacked and bruised.

But, as the hours passed, she began to regain her former composure. Clearly
Feierlein was behind all this. But what did he expect to gain, other than
perhaps a sadistic pleasure in the knowledge that she was suffering? Why was he
not here? And who was this man? He was capable of real brutality but had
prevented Harris having his way with her more than once. And the things they had
done to her, which she could only think of as procedures, well what was the
point, other than to humiliate her utterly, to reduce her to some gibbering
wreck? Maybe that was exactly the point, she realised. Or maybe something else,
like training, like Pavlov's dogs. She felt deeply insecure.

At least I'm still alive, Laura consoled herself.  Maybe I can actually come
through this. She cringed at the thought of the men watching her as she stripped
for them. And how they had stood by callously while she suffocated and retched.
But she was surprised that her nakedness bothered her less now.

Laura's train of thought was however soon replaced by a more fundamental
concern: she was desperately thirsty. She had drunk nothing but salt water for
hours and her mouth felt like paper, her lips cracked, her throat burnt by acid.
She knew that she was already seriously dehydrated. She needed water, fresh
water for Christ's sake. She thought about the toilet but remembered that it was
just a pan with a hole in the bottom: no water there, however unclean. Perhaps
her own sweat? But even if she could reach her skin in this position, the water
had long evaporated and the thought of more salt made her nauseous.

Her mind raced, exploring all possibilities, realistic and fantastic. She turned
onto her other side, opening and closing her eyes without effect. She heard a
faint sound, almost inaudible. Her heart leapt. It was the sound of a droplet of
water occasionally hitting the floor, somewhere in the room. And then she
remembered the overflow pipe with the grate below. There must be a tank,
filling, and leaking into the room. Nervously, in case she was to be
disappointed, she inched towards the wall where she remembered it. Awkwardly,
she got to her knees and shuffled over until she hit her forehead against the
hard surface.

It took several minutes of shuffling left and right until she found the pipe
with the side of her head. Gingerly, she leaned back and, sticking out her
tongue, probed for the end with its tip. Making contact, the drop of moisture
saturated the desiccated flesh and Laura felt waves of pleasure flood her brain.
Thank you, she said, out loud. Bending her head, and holding her mouth just
below, she caught the droplets as they came, about once every ten seconds, she
calculated. It tasted wonderful.

After a few minutes, she became uncomfortable in this position and wondered if
she could lie on her back on the floor with her mouth open and catch the drops
that way. But her attempts were not very successful and she wasted many precious
drops in the process. Hurriedly, she got back onto her knees. Her thirst
banished all thoughts of hygiene -the water was probably contaminated and she
could hardly have cared less. She opened her mouth wide and closed her lips
around the plastic sheath. Yes, it felt good. The water trickled very slowly
down her throat. By sucking at the pipe, breathing through her nostrils, she
thought that she could increase slightly the rate of flow. She knelt at the
lovely, stubby pipe for several hours. Even the soreness of her knees against
the hard floor did not detract from her pleasure.

She jerked her head back as she heard noises at the front door. Hurriedly, she
shuffled back across the room and lay down on her side, bringing her knees up to
her breasts. As she heard footsteps in the corridor, her breathing quickened and
her heart beat strongly in chest. Then, the door was opened and light flooded
the room, blinding her. She was dragged to her feet and led back into the office
where the man who was not Harris forced her to her knees with gentle pressure on
her shoulders.

Harris was sitting as usual on the sofa. Even before Laura caught sight of the
hamburger he was eating, she caught the smell of fat and instinctively she
licked her lips and felt her gastric juices gurgle in her stomach. She was
famished and was wondering if Harris might toss her a morsel of food if she did
something to please him. But then she remembered the bag and the punishment for
acting out of turn.

Hartmann picked up the steel pan from the sink and brought it to Laura's feet.
Taking the tube from between her thighs he turned a small tap near the tip and
drained the girl's bladder. A small quantity of dark yellow liquid trickled into
the pan. Hartmann was satisfied with the colour and quantity. Manipulating the
tube further, he removed it from Laura's urethra. She winced with pain as he did
so and let out a sigh as it was at last withdrawn.

Returning to the sink, he took a large, wide syringe and filled it with water,
pulling out the plunger with some effort. As he came over, Laura wondered
passively which of her holes he was going to fill now. Taking her by the hair,
he pressed the end between her lips, at which she bit reflexively into the
plastic. She choked as he emptied the contents of the syringe into her mouth,
her parched throat unable to respond to the sudden quantity of liquid. But she
managed to gulp down several refreshing mouthfuls, the rest spilling out over
her chin and onto the floor. Instantly she began to feel better.

Hartmann placed a small, white plastic bowl in front of the girl. It contained
cold, boiled potatoes. He saw that she was absorbed by the sight of it and heard
the saliva gurgle in her mouth. She was breathing quickly in anticipation.

"Would you like to eat it?" he asked her.

"Yes. Please. Please, sir", she replied, looking at him hopefully.

"Go on, then".

Laura looked down at the bowl of cold potatoes. She was starving and they looked
delicious. Her hands remained chained behind her back, so she bent forward,
cautiously, careful not to overbalance and fall forward. Her abdominal muscles
rippled as she lowered herself until her mouth was at the bowl. She began to
feed, clumsily, getting much of the soft potato up her nose and over her chin,
even on her breasts, but swallowing some of it. She lapped the white plastic
with her tongue to capture the remainder. Finally convinced that there was no
more to be had, she raised herself slowly back to her original kneeling
position.

She looked back at the man. He was holding a large beaker of cloudy water, which
he put down in front of her.

"No" she cried out at the sight of it, before she could catch herself. The man's
expression immediately hardened.

"I see that you have still not learned proper manners here", he said, picking up
an elastic band and tearing off a piece of clear plastic. Laura was in tears
before the bag was over her head, and continued to sob even as her breathing
became strained.

Some time later, Laura knelt over the steel pan, supporting herself with
trembling arms, looking down at the contents of her stomach. She had just
brought up the third beaker of brine and was completely exhausted. Liquid
dripped into the pan from her eyes, nose and mouth. The last one had been a real
effort: she had had to stick her fingers deep into her throat to trigger the
reaction. She seemed to have become less sensitive on each occasion.

"Well done" said Hartmann, removing the pan and emptying it into the sink. "You
may change position. Sit down, on your bottom."

Laura complied with relief, bringing her knees up to her chest and holding them
with her hands. She wondered if it might be over for today, just the enema and
the catheter to go. Unpleasant, but she could cope.

The man was holding a bright red rubber ball about the size of a baseball. He
tossed it to her and it rolled along the floor, coming to rest against her
thigh.

"Put it in your vagina" he ordered. Laura, startled, picked up the ball. She
knew that she had to do what she was told, without hesitation. The alternative
-she wasn't sure if she could survive another punishment that day.

But the ball was much too large to go inside her. She looked up at the man, to
see if she had misunderstood something perhaps. He looked at her, implacably.
She turned to Harris, who was watching her with a sick grin on his stubbly face.
She looked back at the ball.

Laura spread her legs and gingerly touched her soft flesh. Inserting two fingers
a short way into her body, she started to open herself. Her vagina was tight and
dry and even this was painful. She heard an angry voice.

"Listen. You have five minutes to get that thing in or I'll ask Mr Harris there
to do it for you. And then, I'll punish you."

The words rang in Laura's head as she frantically tried to force the ball in.
She had abandoned the idea of opening herself up slowly and was now spreading
her labia as wide as she could with the fingers of her left hand while pressing
the ball hard against her vulva. She screwed up her eyes and gritted her teeth
with the effort. It was no good, she just could not stretch herself open far
enough.

A tube was thrown at her. She recognised it: lubricant. Conscious of the time,
she hastily unscrewed the top and squeezed a large dollop onto her hand, then
plunged her fingers into her vagina smearing it liberally with the clear gel.
She squeezed more out onto the ball and covered it so that it glistened in the
light. Lying on her back, she pressed the ball against her opening using both
hands, then tried using her left to pull herself open while keeping up the
pressure using the right. She felt her muscles yield. She heard a voice. She had
thirty seconds more.

The pain was preventing her from stretching further and she let it out with a
loud scream. She jerked hard and felt herself stretched and torn. Then, without
warning, her muscles contracted and sucked the ball inside, leaving her hand
flailing uselessly. The ball lodged itself in her cavity and the sharp pain was
replaced by a dull sense of distension. She lay back, panting heavily.

"Good" said Hartmann.

"Told you her cunt was slack" Harris interjected, getting a withering look from
Hartmann in return.

"Turn yourself towards Mr Harris" continued Hartmann to the girl "and spread
your legs. I think he wants a good view." Laura responded mechanically.

"Masturbate." Harris looked at him in alarm. "Not you, idiot. Her."

Laura lifted her head and looked at both men in turn. They looked back at her,
expectantly.

God, thought Laura as her hand moved between her legs. They really have reduced
me to their sex toy. I don't even make a show of defiance. They just tell me
what to do and I do it. I don't even feel embarrassed or humiliated. Just numb
now.

Laura began fingering herself. Loud liquid noises could be heard from the gel
and, possibly, her own juices. Probing into her vagina with a fingertip, she
felt the hardness of the ball and recoiled. With her other hand she started to
cup her breast, playing with the nipple, because she knew men liked to see that.
She closed her eyes.

Suddenly she felt her hand grabbed, pulled from her breast, and forced between
her legs. She looked up in surprise.

"I said masturbate, woman. Not grope yourself. Now do it properly."

Laura's cheeks filled with hot blood as she began to play with herself using
both hands. She parted her labia with her left and rubbed her clitoris with the
other in small circular motions. She felt a familiar tingling in her groin and a
swelling in her nipples. Her abdominal muscles tightened. But even now she knew
that she would not be able to bring herself off. How could they expect her to,
like this?

Looking down at the writhing girl on the floor at his feet, Harris felt his cock
harden uncomfortably. Every so often, he caught sight of the red ball as she
pulled herself open. He was mesmerized by the sight of it.

You're enjoying this, aren't you, you dirty whore. Pretending to be nice and
proper but a slut underneath like all the others. You need to be taught a
lesson.  Yes, my fists and cock will learn you all right. Break you, turn you
black, blue, red. Fuck you til you bleed out of your arse. Yes, beg me, beg me
to fuck you again. Don't hurt me. Please I'll do anything. Spit out that tooth,
suck my filthy cock with those bleeding lips. And when I'm done I'll carve you,
slit you from your tits to your cunt, gut you like a fish. Yes, yes...

Laura rubbed her clitoris hard and fast, trying to stimulate herself. It was not
working. She looked at Harris: a line of drool hung from the corner of his
mouth. She looked at the other man, who was writing something at his desk. Laura
felt ridiculous.

Hartmann turned around. "OK, that's enough." Laura immediately withdrew her
hands and closed her legs, jerking Harris out of his daydream with a grunt.

"Remove the ball and return it to me" he said, tossing a plastic shoe-horn at
Laura. She picked it up, and looked at it stupidly. In her obsession to get the
object in, she had not even considered how it would be removed. Vaguely she had
thought that it would be taken care of somehow, by them.

Sitting up and spreading her legs again, she inserted her first and second
fingers into her vagina. The ball met her fingertips at about an inch inside.
She concentrated hard and became oblivious to those around her. Squeezing four
fingers inside the mouth, she cupped her hand and managed to get it underneath
the ball, pressing against the thin membrane to her rectum with her knuckles.
She tried to get her thumb in too, to allow her to close her hand on the ball,
but she could only get it in to the first joint. She strained in this position
for a while, trying to get a purchase on the round, slippery object.

After some further struggling, which elicited cruel laughter from Harris, she
gave up and picked up the shoe horn. Inserting it beneath the ball, she forced
it in as far as she could and felt the end dig sharply into her flesh. Holding
it in place, she tried to get her other hand in over the top of the ball, at
least two or three fingers. Perhaps she could pull it out that way, deliver it
using her hand and the shoe horn as makeshift forceps. But again the ball was
too big, too slippery, and despite her strenuous efforts it would not budge.
Laura, purple in the face, veins standing out on her neck and forehead, began to
cry again.

"All right" said Hartmann, who had been observing her struggles. "It's not
coming out, is it?". Laura shook her head. She hoped he could see that she had
tried her best.

"I'm going to need to give you an anaesthetic to relax the muscles." He removed
a small syringe complete with needle from a sterile packet. Piercing the top of
a small vial, he withdrew its contents. Laura watched him closely.

Coming over to her, he told her to offer up her left arm. Pinching the soft
flesh at her bicep, he pricked the skin, found the vein easily and emptied the
contents of the syringe into her. The liquid was cold and chilled her arm as it
penetrated her.

Almost immediately Laura's legs began to grow weak and numb. As she was lifted
to her feet, she felt disorientated, her head swam, she found she could not
focus. The room drifted in front of her eyes at a strange angle and the lights
were surrounded by pulsating halos. She was being dragged out of the office and
along the corridor, then into another room. As the scene zigzagged and floated
she tried to follow the shape of a mattress on the wall, no, on the floor it
must be. Black straps at the corners. Lying down now, giddy, on my back. Soft,
so soft. Could sink deep in this.

Laura watched the bare lightbulb above execute complicated patterns, leaving a
trail of light behind it like neon. She felt her arms being raised above her and
restrained, although she did not attempt to test the bonds. Then her legs were
strapped apart. The room was spinning and she was glad to be secured.

A blur in front of her. A face. A dark shape. "Open", a voice boomed from
somewhere. How could she open herself with her hands tied? She felt her mouth
prised apart and a big, thick object forced to the back of her throat. She
choked and gagged. "Concentrate", boomed the voice again. "Control it." She
coughed and spluttered as hands fastened the object around the back of her head.
Finally, her throat ceased its spasms and she lay back breathing hard through
her nostrils.

Hands, many hands, on her body. Groping her breasts, tugging at her pubic hair.
Then, something between her legs, pressing within. Huge, splitting her open,
easily. God, it was inside her, swelling against her tiny body. She was dwarfed
by it, insignificant. It reached into her, deep, deeper than she could believe.
She was a hole, an empty, evacuated hole, nothing more, and it filled her
completely. She felt it in her chest, her throat and still it was expanding. The
room span faster and she drifted in space. She heard loud, hard, animal noises.
Were they coming from her?

Hartmann held the girl's breast in his left hand and with his right probed her
vagina. His arm was in her up to the wrist and still he pushed further. He
looked over his shoulder at the man behind, then back at the girl's face. She
was moaning into the gag, nostrils flaring as she breathed, and her eyes were
wide and vacant. He had his hand around the ball and pumped her with his fist as
hard as he could, her body jerking and yielding with each punch.

Laura started to scream and thrash against her bonds. Hartmann felt her vagina
tighten against his wrist: once, twice. Her abdominal muscles were contracting
and stood out hard underneath her pale skin. Then she shook, relaxed for a
moment and, feeling the pressure released from his wrist, Hartmann withdrew his
hand from her body in a single, smooth movement. The girl continued to come,
muscles contracting and relaxing, chest quivering, moaning and choking into the
gag. His hand was covered with her juices and he shook it a couple of times.
Then he picked up a towel and wiped his hand and the red ball. "OK" he said,
over his shoulder.

Laura was drifting, a tiny cork on a huge wild stormy ocean. Gradually, the
waves subsided. A shape drifted across her eyes. A face. A man. A familiar man.
Who?

"Laura" said Feierlein. "I'm sorry they have to do this to you. But it is
necessary, you understand." He stroked her wet hair as he spoke. Yes, I
understand, she seemed to say through the gag.

"This will continue. But I promise to come back for you. Do you understand?"
Yes, she nodded. She understood. Then she lost focus and her eyes drifted around
the room.

Feierlein stood up, faintly disturbed by this whole business. To Hartmann, he
said that he hoped that this would be worth the effort. Then he pulled his
overcoat over his tuxedo and left the building, his chauffeur leaping out of the
car to open the door.

Hartmann called out to Harris, who had been told to wait in the other room.
"Bring the cuffs and a catheter."

"A what?" came the reply. "One of those thin packets on the desk, Einstein."

Laura remained passive, stunned, as Hartmann wiped down her body and then
inserted another catheter between her still-trembling thighs. She coughed a
little as the gag was extracted. Hartmann dabbed her mouth and eyes with the
towel. Untying her arms and legs, they turned her onto her side and cuffed her
wrists behind her back, noticing that the mattress was soaked. Then, she was
lifted and deposited in her cell. The men left, turning off the light using the
switch outside and locking the door.

A chill from the floor rose through her hot body as she lay on her side.
Gradually the effects of the drugs dissipated, both the ones administered and
the ones she herself had generated. She felt empty, her vagina sore and abused.
Liquid trickled out of her body down her thigh and formed a pool on the floor.
She felt used and dirty and elated. She tried to understand what had happened to
her. She remembered the words, that he would come back for her. She prayed that
it was true.

Laura listened to the regular drip of the water from the overflow pipe. Her
mouth tasted metallic and she was terribly thirsty. Within a few moments she was
at the pipe, closing her lips around it, letting the cold, sharp liquid saturate
her tongue and trickle down the back of her throat. After all the abuse, it was
pure, innocent pleasure. A long time later, she withdrew and curled up on the
floor, falling sound asleep.

She awoke with a start. A key was being turned in the lock. Then, the door was
thrown open, blinding her with the harsh light from the corridor. A man stood
there. From his shape and smell, she knew immediately that it was Harris.

Stepping in, he grabbed Laura by the hair and hauled her onto her knees. She
gritted her teeth, trying not to cry out. Yanking her head back, he squeezed her
left breast hard, digging his nails into her flesh. Laura yelped in shock and
pain.

"So, bitch, it's just you and me now", he snarled. Laura, expecting that the
other man would be close behind him, jumped in alarm. Harris slapped her hard
across the face, first with his palm, then with the back of his hand. Laura fell
back but he caught her, steadying her body. Her face smarted and she felt blood
under her nose. Harris unbuckled his belt and pulled down his zip. Fumbling, he
produced his penis. It was hard, ugly, and curved upwards.

"Suck it" he commanded. Laura recoiled but he grabbed her by the back of the
head and forced her onto it, thrusting it as far as he could down her throat.
She choked and stuggled but he held her fast while she gained control of
herself.

"Go on, bitch, suck it good. Yes, that's it. Harder. Come on."

Laura worked his cock with her lips pursed as hard as she could. It was
difficult to move because he held her head so tightly with both hands, but she
gave him her best. If only I can make him come quickly, she thought, maybe he
won't want to rape me. Or if he does, maybe he'll be softer. She concentrated,
tightening her mouth, taking him deep, flicking the end with her tongue. He
responded well and she felt him stiffen as his cock swelled in her mouth.

Suddenly, Laura's ears were shattered by an enormous bang which echoed round the
room. Harris jerked and Laura felt his penis pulse as he shot a wad of semen
into the back of her throat. She swallowed it, coughing and spluttering in
surprise.

Acrid fumes filled her nostrils as Harris staggered backwards. He fell rigidly
and lay on the floor, his feet twitching. His erect, grey penis stood out
obscenely against his dark suit. Laura looked up. The other man stood in the
doorway, a gun in his hand, still smoking. She looked down again at Harris. A
black hole had appeared on his cheek, and blood was leaking from it.

"I warned him not to touch you without permission" said Hartmann, irritated.

Laura, ears ringing, looked at him nervously, worried that she was somehow
implicated in this transgression, and that she might also be due to be punished.

"I never liked him" Hartmann said to her, affably, looking down at the corpse.
"Did you?". No, Laura shook her head, uncertainly. Hartmann observed that the
girl was in shock.

"Come on, get on your feet" he told her. Laura rose. Hartmann saw that she had
lost weight since she had first stripped for him two days earlier. Mainly
dehydration, he reckoned. But, aside from her bloody nose and bruised cheek, she
looked well enough.

"Step over here" he continued. "Avoid the blood."

Laura stepped carefully over the body, unable to keep from looking at the face
while avoiding the pool of blood oozing from behind the head. Harris' eyes were
wide open and he still wore an expression of surprise. She was glad he was dead.
He deserved it. She just wished he could have suffered more.

Following her morning ritual with the salt water, she sat back in the same room,
letting her bowels flush into the toilet pan. Strange, she thought, that I
outlived him. I was sure he would destroy me. As she was being hosed down in the
semi-darkness of the neighbouring room, she felt relaxed, despite the frigidity
of the water, knowing that this other man would control his passions.

Later, drugged and strapped to the mattress, she came even harder as the ball
was removed. She was grateful for the gag. She would otherwise have begged him
to fuck her at that moment, an offence which would probably have earned her
further punishment.

Although he fitted her as usual with the catheter, he did not bother to chain
her hands before leaving her in the darkness of her cell for the night. When she
heard the outer door being closed, it did not occur to her to try to remove it.
Her sole impulse was to get to the pipe, where she remained for much of the
night, palms against the wall supporting her weight, lips pursed around the
tube.

The following day, she came while masturbating. She looked in surprise at
Hartmann, who told her to take out the ball. Plunging her hand into her pulsing
vagina, she pushed hard and delivered the ball, allowing it to slip through her
hands and roll across the floor leaving a trail of liquid behind it. Laura felt
that she had done well and relaxed back, breathing heavily, with a slight smile.
Later, Hartmann taught her how to insert the catheter herself.

The following night, Laura was again at the pipe when she heard the outer door
open. She dragged herself away, reluctantly since she was still thirsty, but
without hesitation lest anyone discover her secret. When the door opened it was
not the man she expected: it was Feierlein.

"I've come to take you home" he said. Laura looked at him, failing to
comprehend. As he walked up to her, Laura instinctively put her arms around his
waist and as she knelt there she buried her face in his coarse wool coat, just
as she had done once with her father when he had found her after she had lost
her way.

Still naked, she was led by the hand down the corridor and out of the building.
A car was waiting and, as the driver opened the door, Feierlein helped her into
the back seat. She lay on her back as the car pulled away, watching the setting
sun on the horizon between her knees. The motion of the car sent her to sleep.

She awoke again at the sound of the opening door. It was dark. Feierlein helped
her out and up the steps to the door of her apartment. No-one was around. Then
she was inside. A plastic bag was dropped at her feet and the door closed behind
her. She heard the sound of a car pulling away. She was alone.

Laura stood for some time in the hallway, unable to decide what to do.
Eventually, her feet carried her forward and she wandered for a while around her
apartment. She found the kitchen and went immediately to the sink. Putting her
mouth to the cold tap, she turned it and filled her mouth with the glorious
fresh water. She managed to swallow a little and wiped her mouth with her arm.
Then she sat down at the kitchen table.

She had been there for an hour, motionless, when her bladder began to cause her
discomfort. She looked down between her legs but saw that the catheter was not
there. In the bathroom, she sat trying to pee but couldn't. Eventually, she
realised that it would not happen, that her muscles had atrophied even in this
short time.

In the hallway, she found the plastic bag. She emptied the contents onto the
floor. In addition to a red ball, which rolled into a corner, it contained to
her relief four thin packets. There were also four enema bottles. Returning to
the bathroom, she bit the end off one of the packets and withdrew a catheter.
This she inserted skilfully into her urethra, checking the depth as she
introduced its length. Then, she straddled the toilet and opened the small tap.
Light yellow liquid spurted out and she felt the pressure in her bladder ease.

She heard a noise somewhere in the apartment. Ringing. A phone. A phone ringing.
She followed the sounds and picked up the receiver, holding it to her ear,
listening.

"Laura, are you there?" came an unfamiliar voice. "Laura, it's Mark", it
continued, uncertainly.

"Hello Mark" answered Laura, mechanically.

"Good," said Mark, relieved, "good to hear your voice. I was a little worried.
Anyway, how was it? Did you have a good time?"

"Um..." said Laura, thinking.

"Yes, when Larry said you'd gone off on vacation because of the stress and all
that... well anyway I'm glad you're back. Larry said you'd be preparing for the
hearing so I guess we're ready, is that right?"

"Hearing. When?" asked Laura, distantly, picking up on his words.

"10:30 -I thought you knew. Tomorrow, yes?" he paused, listening for her
reaction. Laura did not respond. She was confused.

"Let's meet at Starbucks at 10 -OK?" he suggested.

"OK" said Laura, to get rid of him, and put down the receiver.

She looked over at her dining table, which was covered with files and papers.
There was a laptop too. Looking at the papers, she recognised her handwritten
notes. Gradually, she began to remember. She looked at the clock: it showed
9:30. But it was dark so it must be night, she thought. 9:30 in the evening.

As she sat at the table, her life came back to her. Though she was utterly
famished, she did not think of eating. She sat reading her notes, drinking from
a jug of water, into the night. It had become cold and she had found a dressing
gown, which she now wore.

It dawned on her that they had nearly broken her. In just a few days they had
almost wiped away her life, left her a shell, an idiot. But somehow she had
survived. They had underestimated her resilience, had assumed in their arrogance
that she was finished. But even now she could feel her strength and her
faculties returning to her. On impulse, she went over to the refrigerator and
found a hunk of cheese, which she nibbled at greedily.

She did not sleep, and as the sun rose she resolved that she would go through
with it. She would attend the hearing: it had all come back to her. It was, in
fact, her only chance of getting over this. She had to hit back right away, show
him and herself that she was strong, that she had not been crushed after all.

Draining herself one more time, she removed the catheter. She would not need it
for a few hours and knew she would be more confident in public without it. She
showered briskly, then pulled on fresh underwear, a blouse and suit. The
material felt rough and scratchy and she felt uncomfortable. But, filling her
briefcase with paperwork, she began to feel better, in control again.

PART 4

Laura was comparing notes with Mark, the two of them seated at the front of the
courtroom. The judge was reading out his preliminary remarks. Mark asked her
again if she was OK, because she looked rough, and she snapped back at him that
she was, that she was fine thank you.

She had watched Feierlein as he had entered the court, late as usual,
accompanied by Jacobs and some sundry junior lawyers. He sat, also at the front
of the room, across the central aisle. He had not caught her eye and she found
to her surprise that his presence had virtually no effect on her state of mind.
This gave her further confidence.

"Now, Miss Kodgy" announced the judge, turning to her. "would you like to begin
with your statement?" He looked benignly at Laura, as if he were a little sweet
on her.

Laura stood and began with her statement. Despite a little early hesitation, she
got rapidly into her stride. The words came easily -she had after all lived with
the case for two years. Again, her confidence rose.

She glanced over at Feierlein and the sight of him caused her to stumble over
her words. The man was casually playing with an elastic band. Stretching it
between his fingers, he allowed it to ping off and fly through the air. It
landed in the middle of the floor. He tutted to himself.

Laura was speechless and stood transfixed, staring at the small piece of rubber
on the wooden floor.

"Miss Kodgy?" came a voice, the judge's.

"Er..." Laura looked uncertainly between the band, Feierlein and the judge.
"I..."

"Do you need some time, Miss Kodgy?" the judge enquired.

"No, thanks, I'm...fine, thank you" replied Laura, regaining her composure.

She looked at Mark, who was staring at her, urgently. She looked down at her
notes and found the place where she thought she had trailed off. She continued
with her statement.

She kept glancing at Feierlein, whom she saw whispering to one of the juniors.
The boy rose and withdrew to the back of the room. He returned a minute or two
later with a glass of water, which he set down on the table in front of his
boss. Laura lost her train of thought and, as Mark poked her in the hip, looked
down again at her notes, finding the place with difficulty.

Laura looked up again and over to Feierlein. Her jaw dropped in horror. The man
had produced a packet and, with a teaspoon, was measuring out heaps of white
powder and stirring them into the glass. Laura felt her throat constrict and her
stomach twist and wrench. Her heart beat audibly and she started to breathe in
short, sharp breaths. Both Mark and the judge observed that her hands were
shaking.

Then, Feierlein took the glass to his lips. Laura saw him swallow, his Adam's
apple bobbing up and down. At this, sheer panic overwhelmed her. The room
started to spin and she dropped her notes to the floor. She cried out, softly,
and stumbled back against her chair. Reeling, she caught sight of the door at
the back of the chamber and fixed her eyes on the handle. Then she lunged
towards it, knocking her chair aside, colliding with the desk behind. The room
churned and the handle floated from side to side, but somehow she managed to get
to it and grab it, yanking it down and staggering through, out into the hall.
Half falling, half running, she crossed the hall and collapsed on a wooden
bench. She hung her head between her knees to stave of the darkness encroaching
from the periphery of her vision.

"Laura!" She looked up to see Mark coming through the door. Across the marble
floor, she saw that she had left a trail of urine. Her thighs were wet, too.
Mark saw the liquid too but hid his distaste.

"God Laura, what's the matter?" he looked at her, fearfully.

"Picked up something" she managed to reply, holding her head in her hands. Mark
put his arm around her, uncertainly.

After a couple of minutes, Laura looked up. "I'm OK now, thanks."

"I'm sorry" he replied. "You should have said. I had no idea" he pled, rather
pathetically. "Will you be OK?"

"Yes...I'll just rest here a while." She was afraid he might want to take her to
the doctor but, true to form, he saw the exit.

"I need to go back inside. They're waiting for me. Here's your bag, in case you
need something...I don't know. Will you wait here until we finish?" Yes, she
said she would. Mark walked away, looking back, worriedly.

Laura stood up and staggered out into the fresh air, breathing deeply, clearing
her head. A line of taxis waited at the kerb. She got into the first and sat
back into the soft leather.

"Where to, love?" she was asked.

She had not thought that far. "Er...just a minute" she replied, leafing through
her bag. There were papers, an envelope. Her name was on it. "Here" she said,
handing it to the driver. The cab pulled away.

She continued to leaf through the papers. Then another thought crossed her mind.
"Um...excuse me" she said to the driver. "I think...please, this one" she asked,
handing another piece of paper through the divide.

***

Feierlein strode out of the courtroom, Jacobs and the boys trotting to keep up
with him. He was elated, almost euphoric. His driver opened the door of his
limousine and Jacobs got in beside him.

"Well, how about that?" he said to Jacobs as they sped off.

"Yes", agreed Jacobs, "I don't know how you did it. Total disarray on their
part. After Koczy left it was almost embarrassing" he chuckled.

"I told you she was the key to the whole thing" said Feierlein, putting his hand
on Jacobs' knee. "The rest of that firm is completely useless!"

"Still", retorted Jacobs, "I wish you'd trusted me to win without separate
intervention."

"Listen, Jacobs", Feierlein said harshly, "if I'd left it to you I'd be one
hundred percent screwed by now and you know it. In fact, I don't know why I
haven't sacked you yet. Maybe now would be a good time."

Jacobs shrank back into his seat and looked at his knees, wishing that he had
kept his mouth shut.

The limousine pulled up outside the mansion, gravel crackling under the wide
tyres. The door was opened by Feierlein's butler. "Welcome back, sir" he said,
genially. "I trust all went well?"

"Swimmingly," replied Feierlein, exuberantly, striding through the front door.
"Any calls?" he asked.

"No sir, but, well there's a young lady here to see you, says she's a lawyer and
that you know her. I'm afraid I've forgotten her name. I took the liberty of
showing her into the reception room. I hope that is in order."

Feierlein turned to him and paused. "Yes, Henry, that is quite in order."

Hartmann had told him to expect this but frankly he had not believed him. Jesus.
That guy was a real artist, a genius maybe. Again his judgement had been proved
right, that he had put his faith in him. Well I never, he thought.

But as he walked towards the oak door to the reception room, he hesitated. Maybe
Hartmann's wrong. Perhaps she's here with a gun, to kill me. Quite possible. Or
maybe she's wired, in league with the police. She'd be brave enough to do it,
for sure. He rested his hand on the brass knob. No, he thought, trust your
instincts, Charlie. They haven't let you down yet. He opened the door and
entered the room.

His instincts proved correct. Laura was waiting for him in the middle of the
room, facing the door. She was on her knees, and stark naked. As she caught
sight of him, she straightened her upper body and stared at him, searchingly.
Looking around, he saw her clothes folded in a tidy pile on a chair, her shoes
arranged neatly below.

The girl started breathing heavily as he approached, her ribs rising under her
taught skin. Her thighs quivered slightly. He felt himself stiffen at the sight.
As soon as he was within reach, her eyes fell to his crotch and she started
grabbing at his belt. Within seconds she found his penis and pulled it out. Then
she had it in her mouth, sucking it hungrily, slobbering, tugging, stretching
his foreskin almost painfully as she drew her lips up and down.

"Easy, girl" he said, taken aback. The girl responded instantly, slowing her
pace but keeping up her concentrated effort. He could see her eyes streaming.
What a cracker, he said to himself. I'll definitely keep her for a while. As a
plaything. Maybe even get some legal advice from her. Whatever. He closed his
eyes and sighed.

Laura gripped the base of Feierlein's penis as she worked the shaft with her
mouth. She was trying to make it good for him, hoping that he would enjoy her.
Hoping that he would keep her. Please, she prayed, do what you want with me, do
anything to me. Just keep me.

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