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increasing her discomfort tenfold.
    â€˜Yes,’ Petr continued, ‘I may just buy her for myself. So you had better make a move before she’s shipped north.’
    Desire finally triumphed over guilt and David went across to unclip the chain that held the Afghan beauty against the wall. He turned to Petr, but before he could speak the Russian pointed to a room where they could have some privacy. Carefully guiding his prize by the chain, he led her past the others who were all either drunk, or drugged, or both.
    David laid her on the large bed that dominated the room before removing his own clothes. Her skin felt as soft as silk, and he ran his hands over her body until it was rudely stopped by the cold metal that was used to restrain her. Upon examination he found he could release the chain by opening a small catch.
    She was free now, probably for the first time in weeks. Whether through fear or through Russian conditioning, David wasn’t sure, but she made no attempt to defy him or to escape. Her hands made not to protect her nakedness, but slipped gently down to the tip of his straining penis. He lay back against the pillows and she rose to her knees, displaying all her beauty to leave him in no doubt that she was his and prepared to do his bidding, whatever that may be. While he considered his fancies she dipped her head and tenderly sucked his whole erection into her moist mouth.
    In the room outside the women were being fitted again with their rubber masks, ready to be returned to building eleven now that they had fulfilled their duties. The masks made it impossible for them to see where they were going and where they had been. The captives were brought here from all over Afghanistan, and part of the interrogation and eventual training for the brothels of Moscow was sensory deprivation. As an added insult they were returned to building eleven by male Afghans who had themselves been captured. Three of the men had wives among the group. They had been forced to serve their Russian masters while witnessing the indignities heaped upon their women.
    When the last female was finally locked in her cell Petr went back and knocked at the room where David lay with the Nutmeg. Quickly David reattached her clitoris chain and led her out to the main room where a guard tugged her away in the direction of building eleven. Petr poured a glass of the ever-present vodka which the Englishman accepted before flopping into a chair.
    â€˜She is good, is she not?’ commented Petr while waving his glass as if proposing a toast. ‘I’ve been training her myself.’
    David let out a long sigh. ‘She’s fantastic. She just wanted to please me for as long as I wanted her to – whatever I wanted her to do.’
    â€˜She’s got spirit too. Do what you want with her and she’ll take it. Yet I can’t get her to tell me where the safe houses are.’
    â€˜What if she really doesn’t know?’ asked David wearily. ‘How do you know she knows anything?’
    â€˜We know. Our informers were watching her for weeks, logging her activities and passing the information to us. The only worry I have is that she’s got to like the pain. No interrogation on earth will get it out of her then.’
    David almost choked on his vodka. ‘Got to like the pain? You must be joking. How could anyone in their right mind enjoy that torture?’
    â€˜It’s true,’ answered Petr. ‘They all start out scared. We strip them and shave them. We hang them up by their tits and gag them for hours on end. The weak ones talk straight away, one swish of the cane and they would hang their own grandmothers. The stronger ones take a little longer. They fight the canings and the nipple press, endure the ball gags and the facemasks, but they all talk sooner or later. All, that is, except for a few. One in a hundred actually like it. We’ll hang them up by their feet, legs splayed, and