Isolation Wing

A continuation of Comrade Verushka — the second part of the trilogy — from Blushes Supplement 22

Through the window she can see the trees again. See them and smell them too, for the window is open. It is a smaller window than the one in the room where she had her earlier interviews with Comrade Myanski and it is open. But there are bars — thick vertical iron bars. All the rooms in this part of the building have barred windows. It is the Isolation Wing and it is possible that, in desperation, a girl might attempt to get out. So the windows are barred, but they can be opened and thus the scents of the outdoors, of the great expanse of forest trees, can waft in. The heady scents of pines and birch. So that it is possible, if you close your eyes, to imagine…

For Verushka to imagine she is not in this tiny bare room, a toilet, but is out there in the summer air and the sun. She can’t imagine this for long though. Not with the thought of Comrade Myanski. Who will shortly be here.

‘Go to Room 7, Comrade Verushka. Comrade Myanski will see you in there.’

Room 7 is this very small toilet. And here Comrade Myanski without doubt has some further dreadful punishment in store for Verushka. Another dreadful caning perhaps. Can Comrade Myanski use a cane in the confines of this little room? Or something else…? It is easy for a girl’s mind to imagine other dreadful possibilities — but there can without doubt be things she cannot imagine.

He has broken Verushka now. That session in the room at the end of the corridor. She couldn’t take it. Could anyone? Finding her voice and begging to be allowed to sign the forms. Olga’s form as well as the others. After five minutes with Comrade Myanski in that little room Verushka would sign anything. But the Comrade Inspector is not listening. Hearing her but not willing to accept a recanting. Not yet. She has to be taught a lesson. ‘A proper lesson, Comrade.’

Perhaps Comrade Myanski enjoyed his time with the pretty Comrade Instructor so much that, even though he can now get access to the girls he wants, he wants more time with Comrade Verushka first. ‘I think we need a further lesson, Comrade.’

In any event Verushka has been transferred today to the Isolation Wing. The special wing of the Academy building which is always off limits. A suite of rooms behind a locked door. Girls are very occasionally sent here for ‘special studies’ or ‘special investigations’. The nature of these is not generally known — it is vaguely assumed to be connected with security. Most things unknown and vaguely sinister are assumed to be connected with security; the State Police. If you are sensible you do not inquire. But whatever takes place in the Isolation Wing can proceed free from any interruption from the rest of the staff and student body. Behind that ever-locked door.

Merely being here in the Isolation Wing is a frightening prospect. Being woken early this morning and taken to the Deputy Director. ‘Comrade Myanski wishes to question you further, Comrade Verushka. He has suggested…’

Handed over to one of the custodial staff, Comrade Kritkov, a middle-aged, grey-faced man whom she has never liked and who probably knows nothing but has a vivid imagination. And he has something to fuel his imagination. In the stark little room, empty save for a wooden dresser and a narrow bunk bed, to which he takes her he says, ‘I’ve been told to take your skirt, Comrade Verushka.’

There is no point questioning this. Comrade Kritkov, lecherous-eyed, is standing waiting. Verushka has no option but to take off her skirt in front of him. Underneath she has only a very brief pair of bright red knickers, grabbed without thought in that shock early morning summons. Comrade Kritkov’s hot eyes on her bare legs and the sexy knickers. ‘Perhaps you should take those pretties off as well, eh?’

But Kritkov is only a lowly subordinate. He can’t possibly think of attempting any of the things his eyes say he would like to do. A little later he is back in the room with some of Verushka’s other things, which in the rushed summons she has not brought. He tells her to put on white ankle socks and her white high heels. Verushka is otherwise in just the little red knickers and a white tee-top. An appetising sight for the custodian who is not in a hurry to leave. His eyes drinking her in. He would give anything for an excuse… just to touch. But unfortunately there is no excuse. He has no authority. Not like Comrade Myanski. So he delivers his message and reluctantly leaves.

‘Go to Room 7, Comrade Verushka. Comrade Myanski will see you in there.’

Comrade Kritkov did not touch her but Comrade Myanski will certainly touch her. Verushka has a sudden dream — of climbing up and squeezing out through those bars and wildly running, to the high barbed-wire fence surrounding the compound. Somehow climbing it and she is free…

It is a dream. Verushka turns and there is Comrade Myanski. In his hand is that cane which yesterday… It is a repeat of yesterday when all at once there he was, silent in his rubber-soled shoes. Verushka forcing herself to stand straight and still.

Comrade Myanski doesn’t speak as he steps forward. His hand briefly squeezing one unbrassiered breast, and then he is reaching for the window, to close it. Shutting out that fresh, scented air, that freedom. He turns.

‘How does it feel, Comrade? Fully recovered now? You had a good night’s rest I hope.’

That cane. There are still marks. On Verushka’s bottom, on the backs of her thighs; the insides. She can feel it again. Hear herself desperately yelling out, pleading for mercy. What can she say? Comrade Myanski does not seem to need an answer.

‘Take the knickers off, Comrade. Let me see. We must be sure you are in a fit state to continue the treatment. Our very humanitarian regime requires that. A young Comrade must be examined to ensure she is in a fit state for the caning to continue.’

He can’t cane me here, there is no room, Verushka tells herself. The room is tiny with the toilet taking up most of what space there is. But Verushka is naturally obeying, sliding down her knickers. Stepping out of them. Yesterday they came properly off when she was lying across the table. Comrade Myanski doing it himself, pulling them on down over her stockinged legs. Taking them off so that he could… As Verushka takes her knickers off now the thought darts through her head there probably are positions in which he can cane her, even in this tight, claustrophobic space. That cane…

‘Let me see, Comrade. Get up on the seat. Kneel on it. Your back to me and your knees spread on the seat.’

Verushka again has no choice. A 22-year-old Instructor of Gymnastics cannot refuse the wishes of a Senior Inspector. But why hadn’t she accepted this simple truth at the beginning? If Comrade Myanski wanted Olga and the others he was going to have them. If Verushka had signed the forms right away probably Comrade Myanski would not have concerned himself with her. She had known she couldn’t stop him. Olga… This cane…

Olga and Verushka met briefly yesterday evening, in Verushka’s room where Olga has been coming two or three evenings a week. They have to be very careful of course, liaisons between students and instructors are strictly forbidden. It was not a good meeting. Verushka couldn’t tell Olga what had happened, or what was almost certainly going to happen to Olga. The fact that she, Verushka, would be signing a form so that Comrade Myanski could have his way with her… They had briefly embraced and then Verushka said she was not feeling well. That was true; she had never felt worse.

Kneeling up on the seat of the toilet now with Comrade Myanski’s hand at her bare bottom Verushka tries to forget her dear Olga. There is no point worrying about her, there is whatever is to happen now to herself to be somehow endured. Whatever dreadful thing Comrade Myanski has in mind. His hand moving over her bare bottom, and then down. At her thighs. And in between…

‘What about here, Comrade? Mmmm? It stung, did it?’

Verushka is shaking, trembling, at the memory. And at Comrade Myanski’s hand now which is right there, where the last two, unspeakable strokes of the cane went. Meaningless sounds whimper from her lips.

‘Do you need to relieve yourself, Comrade Verushka? Before we start? Sometimes a girl can have an accident. Wetting herself. The shock of the pain can have that effect. It is a good precaution to use the toilet first.’

Hot-faced — at his words, his hand, everything — Verushka shakes her head.

‘Better try,’ Comrade Myanski says. ‘Sit down and try.’ He is clearly enjoying himself. Humiliating her like this, debasing her. Verushka sits on the toilet. Comrade Myanski is not going to leave. Standing in front of her. ‘Come on, Comrade. Try. Make an effort. A little extra effort. Like the girls in the gym, eh — a little extra effort.’

There is silence in this claustrophobic little room. Verushka looking desperately at the floor. And then… a light tinkling sound. Silence again. Verushka wants to scream but there is only silence.

Comrade Myanski steps closer. ‘Is that it, Comrade? Is that all? Not a lot, eh.’ His hand on her head. A handful of the blonde locks. And a sudden jerk upwards. This time Verushka does scream.

Comrade Myanski gets her up on the toilet seat again. Kneeling painfully on the seat with her back to him. He pulls Verushka’s arms behind her and takes both her wrists in one hand. Comrade Myanski has his cane in the other, held two thirds of the way down the shaft. Held thus…

CRACK!!…

The thin bamboo whips smartly into the firm ripe flesh. Yes there is space all right. A choking gasp from Verushka as the red-hot sting wells up through her. Comrade Myanski’s voice, soft, gentle almost —

‘Hold still, Comrade. We have a long way to go…’

CRACK!!…

‘…before we are finished.’

Fighting the searing pain Verushka tells herself that at least in here Comrade Myanski cannot do what he did over that table. He can cane her bottom and the backs of her thighs. But he cannot do that other mind-stopping thing… Not in this tight space. The cane across her bottom is killing her, but she can endure it. As long as…

But Verushka has got it wrong. There are other positions Comrade Myanski can put her in. He can make her kneel on the cold floor, her body bent over the seat. Her knees wide apart. And standing above her, in the tight little space at the side…

----//----

The room at the end of the corridor again, in the main part of the building. Two days later. Two days in which Verushka has been in the Isolation Wing but she is out now, standing here, her face white and drawn, at the side of the table. The table on which she had that dreadful caning but now after two days in the Isolation Wing… there are even worse things than that fixed in her mind.

The door opens. Comrade Myanski in his rubber-soled shoes enters. He is not alone. Olga Smylmov follows him. Student Comrade Olga, Verushka’s darling Olga. She glances at Verushka and bites her lip. Olga’s pretty face has the look or a rabbit petrified with fear.

Comrade Myanski picks up the ledger from the table and shows Olga. Lying on the open pages is the form which Verushka has signed. ’Student Comrade Olga Ivanova Smylmov has not been working…’ He points to the signature. Verushka’s name.

Olga gives Verushka a shocked, disbelieving look. Her mouth opens, but she doesn’t speak. You do not argue with authority. This of course is the precept that Verushka should have followed. Comrade Myanski is closing the ledger and putting it on one side.

‘You will be caned, Student Comrade, and the Comrade Instructor will remain and witness the caning. Take your knickers off please. Then raise your skirt round your waist. And then lay yourself over the table.’