Her eyes just opened, it seems, by themselves, breaking the course of empty thoughts, which were ruminating in the sensitive morning sleep. Thoughts which had little important in itself, it is they are forcing her for a while to forget the reality which sometimes is hard to remember by those who is just waking up. The first moment of the stopping these thoughts and an indifference, it has changed by astonishment: during any part of second Inga has not understood but felt that this reality is going to be more than strange. In a strange and cramped interior the sun rays of morning struggled through stripy walls like tarpaulin one.
Inga has stirred instinctively. A mild pain signaling from back, in a moment it has helped her to remember everything. The fate gave an unusual reversal: it flung her not from a nightmarish dream in the carefree reality, but quite the contrary. That, it seemed, which would be a dream, it declared itself clearly, pretending to the most real existence. That, what nobody would believe in, if to tell anyone, it turned out enough palpable.
And the nature, it seemed, there was no way it wanted to admit the horror of her situation. A green forest was swarming with various life forms, filled up with joyful songs of the birds. It was as if all things on the outside wanted to congratulate and to welcome her and the fact that she is found in a captivity. Somewhere in secret nooks of her conscience she had discovered a treacherous thought: "And why do you actually grow hysterical? Look how it's beautiful all around! Here's nothing as terrible one. Is it well by cause of the small troubles..." Immediately another thought had interrupted the first one, but without words. It seemed to her the parents, the former classmates, families from a large courtyard of Moscow, all of them, young and old alike. What if they will find out, all the details?! And what if they will find out, how just she have connived all this? But the common sense had interrupted this thought immediately, for that was going too far. Certainly they would cannot reach for her sincere deep thoughts. Are they like Messing really? (Messing - a Polish Jew, the famous psychic, was escaped from Hitler's Germany in the USSR - author's note).
Of course, for a while it was not anything terrible. If the monster would like to kill her, he had lots and lots of very good instants for this, and long ago he would profit from the favourable situation for realization any fancy which is able to come to the sinful mind of a maniac. But even he didn't rape her so far. Though in this Brezhnev's epoch nobody of her known people would dare to consider this man as a normal one, but how exactly he had calculated all! Quickly she has played mentally over the events of the last weeks: it seems, her captor didn't do just only one a mistake. And let he is a madman, but he is a clever, intricate and calculating madman and it is doubtful he would grow hysterical in his detriment or to the detriment of a cause which he has ventured.
Inga has caught herself that she is thinking, she is thinking independently, logically and correctly. Prior to that, she had never to work mentally in this way. It seemed, all thought together, that is she and all who was near her. And there was not a fear "to lose the way", then just they would correct her thinking. It seemed, all knew the way and all knew, if one may say so, a certain "timetable" in which it is indicated, in what age one must or one must not do something, that is the "timetable"which all "normal" people lives under. But the "timetable" has not foreseen the things were going on last days with her. She was thrown either into a remote past or into another planet, almost into the other world, and if to compare this with the real life, it was not more alike than a sudden arrest and jail for anyone who never kept in mind anything like this.
Today her brain worked, as never before, accurately and clearly, and she suspected whereof so. The day before yesterday, the evening her tormentor had given her some trash, adding secretly something into the tea with jam made in the mess tin and poured into the mugs. By all appearance, he did by himself go to some town because he came back with two big backpacks full of food supplies and all sorts of small things needed in the forest. And yesterday she had wakened well over afternoon for some minutes before his return and not that to run away, but even it was difficult to move with a finger because of the exact influence some hypnotic or drug. She would have time to move away only several hundred metres, one day this happened and she knew, what she would get for this. At all she had no desire to get it again.
However, there was nothing special what she would can be glad for: this morning as every other one, she was waiting for the shame, the cold and the pain.
-Have you awoken, broad? - a hoarse and harsh voice had heard from outside. (Unfortunately, this was not Vysotsky, though the voice was resembling).
-What? Is it time?
-It's half past ten. You may drowse a half an hour else. Or do you want it now?
-I've better more later.
-The law is on your side, babe.
However, about ten minutes she was bored with this tedious waiting and she had ventured to bring closer this morning rite: earlier start - earlier end. And having a good sleep as never before, she hated to lie idle. According as this mad rite ordered, she had taken off the turtleneck sweater, the bra, the tracksuit pants and even the panties and had come out all naked, like those who would plunge into the slough.
-All right. It's hard to keep a place after such rest. Now then! Turn your back!
Inga obeyed. All her back was covered over fresh welts from the yesterday's and more early wild rites and her careless faults. More lowly, greatly paled traces of that unforgettable whipping for the unsuccessful escape and the resistance. That time he had run down her and, grabbing the ear, bent down her to the ground. She tried to kick him with her foot on the genitals, but failed. Further he led her silently and imperturbably. "So, it's probably, once, Joan of Arc was led in her last way " - Inga remembered from the lesson of history. Then she was terrified, and she tried to hide the fear by a naive question:
-Even you don't scold me. Why is that?
-Now my lash is going to scold you.
On the way to the reprisal, her childhood came to mind involuntarily. Sometimes the father punished her with belt, but the mother stood up for her always, while calling him as a nutcase and a pervert, which made him blush and after this he tolerated Inga's tricks a long time. However the same mother, in case of significant faults, punished her very seldom but with cruelty. Last time Inga caught very hot at the age of fourteen years old, when her numerous fake signatures of parents under an obstinately growing number of the bad grades in her pupil's book were disclosed. Unexpectedly she had grown bolder, reasoning with herself: "It's awful only for the children. Until what age I will be afraid of flogging? Mom will whip my bottom, no big deal!"
At that time she had obeyed mother, baring her bum, which was protuberant already at that age, and allowing to clutch her head between mother's knees. At first, Inga had stood silently seven or eight swats of jumping rope. Wanting to hide the increasing pain, this became already unbearable for her, Inga had given voice:
-Mom... it hurts... indeed... - this sounded with a tone clearly ironical, what could be translated in the ordinary language as follows: "Although, it is unpleasantly a little, but you, mom, are doing nonsense". But the skipping-rope continued to whistle spanking, already Inga didn't control herself, but she was screaming that usually young girls scream in such cases:
-Ouch, what are you doing?! What hurts! It hurts! Ouch, don't...ouch! I will not anymore! - And finally shouting: "Oh I can't stand it anymore!", - she had turned into a chaotic, frenzied, breathless and confused yell which had quietened down just after the last lash and was changed into a hissing and a groaning in a low voice. Shouting several swear words at her address, the mother whipped Inga one time else, and now the only swat provoked a loud scream of the girl. After the punishment she had looked with tearful eyes at the window and seen an adult fellow, a land surveyor who was standing with a surveyor's pole at the corner of the house and listening. She was ashamed: he well heard just she be spanked and it is good that he didn't know her.
However this recent flogging for the escape had surpassed all that she had experienced in childhood. That time he had ordered her to encompass a thick tree with outstretched arms, tied together her wrists not touching each other a little, trailed another rope under the armpits, winding round the shoulders and tied the tags of the rope to an upper bough, to limit her ability to squat down to the ground. Also the malefactor had tied every foot separately below, that is with ankle joint, she wouldn't try to cover her bottom by feet. Then leisurely, he had taken from the pocket a wire was winded and folded in two, the round cross-section in the cover of polyvinyl chloride, the inside is of copper. In the form folded in two, the wire was a little longer than a half of meter.
A melodious whizz was heard. Surrounding the left hip and the left buttock, the flexible tags of the wire have stuck into the right one. The first instants Inga felt nothing, but right away the pain was almost suffocating, it captivated her without intention to abate.
-Ouch,- the girl uttered a moan almost in a whisper, throwing back her head.
A second following swat was as well surrounding and melodious, then a third, a forth, and all of them were fallen on the same point almost. A loud yell was heard in the forest. The barrier of her standing was crushed. Baring her teeth and staring with a pleading look in the monster's face, Inga yelled at the top of her voice, but this didn't keep him from flogging. He, entering into the taste, continued to welt her resilient and white bottoms which she twisted with and jumped up, and all this was very seductive, even for seasoned types. Her body, it seemed, hoped instinctively to evade the unwanted and cruel pain and herself was ready for all the things this maniac would demand from her, if only to stop this torture.
-What do you want, I'll do anything! Ah-ah-ah-ah! What do you want, I'll do it! - she cried at the top of her lungs with a hoarse voice, frightening away the neighbouring birds and the wild boars.
And the whip continued a long time to pierce, now into one point several times, now into another by the same way, and she thought that he intends to flog her to death, and if it is so - let faster. Such thoughts, accompanied with her heartrending cries, flowed not smoothly, as usual, but they flashed and disappeared like lightnings in the night.
And now he was stroking her hair, effortlessly pulling her ears, so why is she still screaming? Inga had stopped screaming and burst into tears. The cascade of tears relieved her pleasantly off all the simmering and aching things in her soul, which were ripened during these six years of the adult life without tears, when one starts to swallow silently insults and troubles, pretending to be imperturbable, becoming a hypocrite, so the soul harden, the look goes out, every trifle deposits on his shoulders, accumulating to old age as a heavy load of the past, which one bends under, what after nothing makes him happy any more, neither mountains, seas and forests, nor the dawns and the sunsets. Inga wailed and the soothing pain was changed into the feeling of a catharsis. So a forest is cleared after a tearing storming downpour. As she had become a little girl again, ready to fulfil any whims of cruel parents who had just punished her, and she, being driven into the infernal ecstasy by the cruel pain, had promised them to obey at all, not affected, but enough sincerely. The nice feeling of the body and soul, who were shuddering in sobbing, was changed gradually into the disappointment at her own weakness in comparison with partisans of the Resistance, the Christian martyrs and victims of the inquisition.
"They hadn't submitted because of severe trials, but I have given in to a simple flogging. It is possible, he is going to screw me; it may be he will make me to perform fellatio. Let be it! It serves me right! Let all burns in the blue blaze!"
An idea flashed through her mind timidly "He is like an old man, but not a bad chap" immediately was restrained in imagination by hooting faces of all the familiar groups which with she had to associate last times.
-You want to overcome the pain, however you use a wrong way. I will teach you, broad, but there is a time for everything. You are dead! You are dead not here, not today, but long ago before I had abducted you. Now you are dead, but I want to make you alive. If God's will for this, I will get my way!
He looked at her tenderly and enthusiastically and continued:
-Henceforth you are a forest broad, my forest helpmate. You will obey me at all. I will force you to obey! With me you must be more sincere, more outspoken, than with yourself you are, because you don't know yourself. You have driven into the subconsciousness all your essence and imagined that you are the same like all the rest of the world. But God didn't create identical humans each with other. On the Earth you would not find a couple of identical men as well as you will not find a couple of identical fingerprints. There aren't even identical flies, not saying about humans. So take the trouble to learn, WHO ARE YOU?
-My name is Inga. My mother had called me like this in honour a figure skate or a gymnast, don't remember.
-You could be named Maria, Valentine, Lucia but even Nick in prison, such a thing exists, then I will tell you about this. So take the trouble to learn not a label, which one had stuck on you, but your essence.
After these words a mute scene followed. He looked in her face, and she was taken aback a little, trying to digest what she has heard.
-I'm your lord, your master. I'm your teacher. You are under my power. Do you want, I will flog you again as fifteen minutes ago?
Inga began to worry, her lips began to tremble, her eyes flickered uneasily, and she had fallen to her knees.
-You are my teacher, you are my lord, I'm your helpmate, I'm your forest broad, I'll do anything for you. Do with me what you will. But I beg of you, don't so painful, don't so cruelly! - she blanched and her eyes filled with tears.
-Already it depends on you. All the same, I will flog you every morning, but slightly, as a formality, for you don't forget your place. And you yourself must ask me this doing. And now descend to the brook, wash your face and go learn the Code of prisoner's behaviour. After all, you are my prisoner now,- he became thoughtful.- Maybe some day you will thank me with all your heart.
That day she learnt the typed Code of prisoner behaviour, and her tormentor didn't touch her with finger anymore.
And now, that is two weeks later, she naked was standing in front of him, turning her back being flogged, and he, like a painter, was examining his traceries on her svelte and young flesh.
Next chapter: http://la-flagellation.blogspot.ru/2012/10/the-enigmatic-abductor-chapter-2.html
The original Russian text: https://www.proza.ru/2009/12/20/1217
Inga has stirred instinctively. A mild pain signaling from back, in a moment it has helped her to remember everything. The fate gave an unusual reversal: it flung her not from a nightmarish dream in the carefree reality, but quite the contrary. That, it seemed, which would be a dream, it declared itself clearly, pretending to the most real existence. That, what nobody would believe in, if to tell anyone, it turned out enough palpable.
And the nature, it seemed, there was no way it wanted to admit the horror of her situation. A green forest was swarming with various life forms, filled up with joyful songs of the birds. It was as if all things on the outside wanted to congratulate and to welcome her and the fact that she is found in a captivity. Somewhere in secret nooks of her conscience she had discovered a treacherous thought: "And why do you actually grow hysterical? Look how it's beautiful all around! Here's nothing as terrible one. Is it well by cause of the small troubles..." Immediately another thought had interrupted the first one, but without words. It seemed to her the parents, the former classmates, families from a large courtyard of Moscow, all of them, young and old alike. What if they will find out, all the details?! And what if they will find out, how just she have connived all this? But the common sense had interrupted this thought immediately, for that was going too far. Certainly they would cannot reach for her sincere deep thoughts. Are they like Messing really? (Messing - a Polish Jew, the famous psychic, was escaped from Hitler's Germany in the USSR - author's note).
Of course, for a while it was not anything terrible. If the monster would like to kill her, he had lots and lots of very good instants for this, and long ago he would profit from the favourable situation for realization any fancy which is able to come to the sinful mind of a maniac. But even he didn't rape her so far. Though in this Brezhnev's epoch nobody of her known people would dare to consider this man as a normal one, but how exactly he had calculated all! Quickly she has played mentally over the events of the last weeks: it seems, her captor didn't do just only one a mistake. And let he is a madman, but he is a clever, intricate and calculating madman and it is doubtful he would grow hysterical in his detriment or to the detriment of a cause which he has ventured.
Inga has caught herself that she is thinking, she is thinking independently, logically and correctly. Prior to that, she had never to work mentally in this way. It seemed, all thought together, that is she and all who was near her. And there was not a fear "to lose the way", then just they would correct her thinking. It seemed, all knew the way and all knew, if one may say so, a certain "timetable" in which it is indicated, in what age one must or one must not do something, that is the "timetable"which all "normal" people lives under. But the "timetable" has not foreseen the things were going on last days with her. She was thrown either into a remote past or into another planet, almost into the other world, and if to compare this with the real life, it was not more alike than a sudden arrest and jail for anyone who never kept in mind anything like this.
Today her brain worked, as never before, accurately and clearly, and she suspected whereof so. The day before yesterday, the evening her tormentor had given her some trash, adding secretly something into the tea with jam made in the mess tin and poured into the mugs. By all appearance, he did by himself go to some town because he came back with two big backpacks full of food supplies and all sorts of small things needed in the forest. And yesterday she had wakened well over afternoon for some minutes before his return and not that to run away, but even it was difficult to move with a finger because of the exact influence some hypnotic or drug. She would have time to move away only several hundred metres, one day this happened and she knew, what she would get for this. At all she had no desire to get it again.
However, there was nothing special what she would can be glad for: this morning as every other one, she was waiting for the shame, the cold and the pain.
-Have you awoken, broad? - a hoarse and harsh voice had heard from outside. (Unfortunately, this was not Vysotsky, though the voice was resembling).
-What? Is it time?
-It's half past ten. You may drowse a half an hour else. Or do you want it now?
-I've better more later.
-The law is on your side, babe.
However, about ten minutes she was bored with this tedious waiting and she had ventured to bring closer this morning rite: earlier start - earlier end. And having a good sleep as never before, she hated to lie idle. According as this mad rite ordered, she had taken off the turtleneck sweater, the bra, the tracksuit pants and even the panties and had come out all naked, like those who would plunge into the slough.
-All right. It's hard to keep a place after such rest. Now then! Turn your back!
Inga obeyed. All her back was covered over fresh welts from the yesterday's and more early wild rites and her careless faults. More lowly, greatly paled traces of that unforgettable whipping for the unsuccessful escape and the resistance. That time he had run down her and, grabbing the ear, bent down her to the ground. She tried to kick him with her foot on the genitals, but failed. Further he led her silently and imperturbably. "So, it's probably, once, Joan of Arc was led in her last way " - Inga remembered from the lesson of history. Then she was terrified, and she tried to hide the fear by a naive question:
-Even you don't scold me. Why is that?
-Now my lash is going to scold you.
On the way to the reprisal, her childhood came to mind involuntarily. Sometimes the father punished her with belt, but the mother stood up for her always, while calling him as a nutcase and a pervert, which made him blush and after this he tolerated Inga's tricks a long time. However the same mother, in case of significant faults, punished her very seldom but with cruelty. Last time Inga caught very hot at the age of fourteen years old, when her numerous fake signatures of parents under an obstinately growing number of the bad grades in her pupil's book were disclosed. Unexpectedly she had grown bolder, reasoning with herself: "It's awful only for the children. Until what age I will be afraid of flogging? Mom will whip my bottom, no big deal!"
At that time she had obeyed mother, baring her bum, which was protuberant already at that age, and allowing to clutch her head between mother's knees. At first, Inga had stood silently seven or eight swats of jumping rope. Wanting to hide the increasing pain, this became already unbearable for her, Inga had given voice:
-Mom... it hurts... indeed... - this sounded with a tone clearly ironical, what could be translated in the ordinary language as follows: "Although, it is unpleasantly a little, but you, mom, are doing nonsense". But the skipping-rope continued to whistle spanking, already Inga didn't control herself, but she was screaming that usually young girls scream in such cases:
-Ouch, what are you doing?! What hurts! It hurts! Ouch, don't...ouch! I will not anymore! - And finally shouting: "Oh I can't stand it anymore!", - she had turned into a chaotic, frenzied, breathless and confused yell which had quietened down just after the last lash and was changed into a hissing and a groaning in a low voice. Shouting several swear words at her address, the mother whipped Inga one time else, and now the only swat provoked a loud scream of the girl. After the punishment she had looked with tearful eyes at the window and seen an adult fellow, a land surveyor who was standing with a surveyor's pole at the corner of the house and listening. She was ashamed: he well heard just she be spanked and it is good that he didn't know her.
However this recent flogging for the escape had surpassed all that she had experienced in childhood. That time he had ordered her to encompass a thick tree with outstretched arms, tied together her wrists not touching each other a little, trailed another rope under the armpits, winding round the shoulders and tied the tags of the rope to an upper bough, to limit her ability to squat down to the ground. Also the malefactor had tied every foot separately below, that is with ankle joint, she wouldn't try to cover her bottom by feet. Then leisurely, he had taken from the pocket a wire was winded and folded in two, the round cross-section in the cover of polyvinyl chloride, the inside is of copper. In the form folded in two, the wire was a little longer than a half of meter.
A melodious whizz was heard. Surrounding the left hip and the left buttock, the flexible tags of the wire have stuck into the right one. The first instants Inga felt nothing, but right away the pain was almost suffocating, it captivated her without intention to abate.
-Ouch,- the girl uttered a moan almost in a whisper, throwing back her head.
A second following swat was as well surrounding and melodious, then a third, a forth, and all of them were fallen on the same point almost. A loud yell was heard in the forest. The barrier of her standing was crushed. Baring her teeth and staring with a pleading look in the monster's face, Inga yelled at the top of her voice, but this didn't keep him from flogging. He, entering into the taste, continued to welt her resilient and white bottoms which she twisted with and jumped up, and all this was very seductive, even for seasoned types. Her body, it seemed, hoped instinctively to evade the unwanted and cruel pain and herself was ready for all the things this maniac would demand from her, if only to stop this torture.
-What do you want, I'll do anything! Ah-ah-ah-ah! What do you want, I'll do it! - she cried at the top of her lungs with a hoarse voice, frightening away the neighbouring birds and the wild boars.
And the whip continued a long time to pierce, now into one point several times, now into another by the same way, and she thought that he intends to flog her to death, and if it is so - let faster. Such thoughts, accompanied with her heartrending cries, flowed not smoothly, as usual, but they flashed and disappeared like lightnings in the night.
And now he was stroking her hair, effortlessly pulling her ears, so why is she still screaming? Inga had stopped screaming and burst into tears. The cascade of tears relieved her pleasantly off all the simmering and aching things in her soul, which were ripened during these six years of the adult life without tears, when one starts to swallow silently insults and troubles, pretending to be imperturbable, becoming a hypocrite, so the soul harden, the look goes out, every trifle deposits on his shoulders, accumulating to old age as a heavy load of the past, which one bends under, what after nothing makes him happy any more, neither mountains, seas and forests, nor the dawns and the sunsets. Inga wailed and the soothing pain was changed into the feeling of a catharsis. So a forest is cleared after a tearing storming downpour. As she had become a little girl again, ready to fulfil any whims of cruel parents who had just punished her, and she, being driven into the infernal ecstasy by the cruel pain, had promised them to obey at all, not affected, but enough sincerely. The nice feeling of the body and soul, who were shuddering in sobbing, was changed gradually into the disappointment at her own weakness in comparison with partisans of the Resistance, the Christian martyrs and victims of the inquisition.
"They hadn't submitted because of severe trials, but I have given in to a simple flogging. It is possible, he is going to screw me; it may be he will make me to perform fellatio. Let be it! It serves me right! Let all burns in the blue blaze!"
An idea flashed through her mind timidly "He is like an old man, but not a bad chap" immediately was restrained in imagination by hooting faces of all the familiar groups which with she had to associate last times.
-You want to overcome the pain, however you use a wrong way. I will teach you, broad, but there is a time for everything. You are dead! You are dead not here, not today, but long ago before I had abducted you. Now you are dead, but I want to make you alive. If God's will for this, I will get my way!
He looked at her tenderly and enthusiastically and continued:
-Henceforth you are a forest broad, my forest helpmate. You will obey me at all. I will force you to obey! With me you must be more sincere, more outspoken, than with yourself you are, because you don't know yourself. You have driven into the subconsciousness all your essence and imagined that you are the same like all the rest of the world. But God didn't create identical humans each with other. On the Earth you would not find a couple of identical men as well as you will not find a couple of identical fingerprints. There aren't even identical flies, not saying about humans. So take the trouble to learn, WHO ARE YOU?
-My name is Inga. My mother had called me like this in honour a figure skate or a gymnast, don't remember.
-You could be named Maria, Valentine, Lucia but even Nick in prison, such a thing exists, then I will tell you about this. So take the trouble to learn not a label, which one had stuck on you, but your essence.
After these words a mute scene followed. He looked in her face, and she was taken aback a little, trying to digest what she has heard.
-I'm your lord, your master. I'm your teacher. You are under my power. Do you want, I will flog you again as fifteen minutes ago?
Inga began to worry, her lips began to tremble, her eyes flickered uneasily, and she had fallen to her knees.
-You are my teacher, you are my lord, I'm your helpmate, I'm your forest broad, I'll do anything for you. Do with me what you will. But I beg of you, don't so painful, don't so cruelly! - she blanched and her eyes filled with tears.
-Already it depends on you. All the same, I will flog you every morning, but slightly, as a formality, for you don't forget your place. And you yourself must ask me this doing. And now descend to the brook, wash your face and go learn the Code of prisoner's behaviour. After all, you are my prisoner now,- he became thoughtful.- Maybe some day you will thank me with all your heart.
That day she learnt the typed Code of prisoner behaviour, and her tormentor didn't touch her with finger anymore.
And now, that is two weeks later, she naked was standing in front of him, turning her back being flogged, and he, like a painter, was examining his traceries on her svelte and young flesh.
Next chapter: http://la-flagellation.blogspot.ru/2012/10/the-enigmatic-abductor-chapter-2.html
The original Russian text: https://www.proza.ru/2009/12/20/1217
