A victory for mother Russia. You hold onto a little bit of your senses yet as you cough and shake your head. He holds a picture of you with and another man in uniform. Whatever happens now, there is no regrets. I’ll kill the soviet baby that would grow in you each day if I have to, till I get your secrets”
Wow, that’s pretty intense. You catch a glimpse of your picture, but the hand writing may have been Greek to you. It sounds so wet and inviting even to you. You cough up some spit, not expecting that. As he pounds you from behind, through out the night, you moan and scream out random secrets in parts and pieces as he fills your random holes. The lock being disengaged and the hinges creaking as a Tall man in a military uniform comes from behind you. You cough up some spit, not expecting that. Such power, and control, even over the most indominable spy.
