His whole body ached. The manacles he wore had rubbed his wrist raw when he had been strung up by his arms during the questioning. He now lay on the stone floor of his cell and no position felt comfortable. He was sure there were bruises covering every inch of his body. He had been stripped of everything and was now dressed in only a loose fitting gown that hung to his knees.
Due to his swift capture and the drugs that had been used on him, he had not spent much time trying to piece together how he had been made as a spy. As soon as the effects of the drugs had started to wear off the interrogation started. They beat him over and over again while the woman in black had asked him questions. Some of the questions were trivial to get him talking to her. She had tried to sympathize with his plight as the two men in the room with her dealt out punishment upon his body. Then she would shift to a more ominous and threatening persona, trying to use fear to get the information out of him.
His only answer had been his cover name and identity. He had managed to stay in the role of an international businessman who was seeking unorthodox transit services to pass any complication with custom services in various countries. One of the areas the organization he was investigating specialized in was illegal transport of goods and also people across borders without unwanted questions and inspections. Somehow his identity had been given away. Was the backstory not as well substantiated as the agency had thought? Had someone given him away?
As he thought through his pain and discomfort the door to his cell creaked open. He looked up to see a woman carrying a tray and bucket. She was dressed in a similar gown to his, though hers looked even dirtier and worn out than his own. Her brown hair was in disarray and she moved quietly on slippers that had little if any sole on them.
She did not speak as she knelt down in front of him and set down the tray which had a substance that he could only guess was supposed to be food upon it and then placed the bucket next to it. After setting them down her hand dipped into the bucket and came out with a dripping cloth rag which she rung out with both hands over the bucket before looking at him and moving it towards his face.
He searched her brown eyes as he let her wipe down his face. The rag quickly turned from white to red as she wiped away the dried blood from the various cuts. The cool cloth felt euphoric compared to the torcher he had been through. "Thank you," he breathed as she continued, "what's your name?"
"Shhh, we must be quiet," was her soft, sweet response.
"Can you tell me where we are?" he whispered.
"Please, you will need your strength," she replied as she moved to his neck and then to his arm with the cold, soothing cloth.
He savored the feeling of the cloth being gently wiped over his arms, "If you tell me where we are I might be able to help us both."
She looked at him and her cheeks became flushed, "I need to lift your gown," her voice still quiet.
The exhaustion was starting to creep in as the soothing coolness from the cloth seeped into his skin. He smiled at her, "I never was the modest type."
Her hand moved to the bottom of his gown and he lifted his hips up to help her pull it up over his waist. Pushing it up, she tucked it under his arms while trying to avoid looking anywhere near his naked crotch. She dipped the cloth back in the bucket and started to wipe his legs, "you should eat," her voice still quiet, "you will need your strength."
He picked up the plate and looked at the gooey substance resting upon it. The smell was almost non-existent as he lowered his tongue to taste it. He found it had little taste, likely some type of protein supplement and he shrugged before licking it slowly up off the plate. He knew if they wanted him dead they would not poison his food when they could simply put a bullet in his head.
The woman continued wiping down his body and the feeling of her wiping the cloth over his thighs caused a stirring. The tingling sensations felt wonderful in contrast to the burning of the cuts and scrapes that now covered his body.
"Sor...sorry," she whispered, her cheeks turning even more red.
"Hey," he said, "it's okay. Just nicer than being punched is all."
She moved up to clean his chest and he felt like laying down and resting. He was not sure how long he had been without sleep, but he was having trouble fighting the drowsiness that was quickly overtaking him. "Stay strong," her eyes stayed focused on what she was doing, "they will not stop until you give them what they want. Once you do, they will kill you."
The fear in her voice was clear to him and as she finished cleaning his chest and stomach she motioned for him to turn over, so she could wipe down his back. "You need rest if you want to endure another day of this." The cloth on his back was all the soothing comfort he needed as he felt his eyes growing heavy. "You need to sleep," he could almost feel her breath next to his ear. "Sleep now so you can fight them tomorrow," was the last thing he heard before he drifted off into slumber.
When he awoke it was to the rough handling of the same two men who had beaten him previously while the woman in black asked him questions. They hung him up again with his arms above his head, held in place by the manacles as he watched the woman in black walk into the room.
She wore heeled boots and a one piece, form-fitting black outfit divided by a black leather belt. The outfit accentuated her well-shaped body. She had dark hair and eyes and an attractive face that seemed to glow when her red painted lips turned up into a smile, "sleep well?" she asked, standing in front of him.
