"Not sure you realize what the odds are here, Ma'am" the soldier said, turning to Beatrice. Another one came in armed with a service handgun and a little leather bag strung over his shoulder. "The gals making trouble? I thought we were gonna get some peace and quiet." he said.

"Their top dog is trying to show us she's got balls, which she hasn't."

Minerva looked back at Beatrice and then at the soldier who had brought the food. She was silent.

Dawn took heart and looked straight at the first soldier. "Please, listen, she's a woman. If she's got some little secrets to show she'll fix it better if she gets a chance to clean herself..."

The men glanced over at Beatrice, a sudden shade of doubt drew over her face; she was obviously surprised. Are we getting the first chance to put a crack between the leader and the others? the first soldier thought, in a sudden flash.

"...and look more ordered, more sweet" Dawn went on, smiling a little. She felt like she was back at girls boarding school, but the first weapon of a woman is to wheeedle a bit.

The soldier lost no time.

"That's enough, bitch. You have talked a bit too much" he dragooned at Dawn, "Get your hands behind your back!"

Dawn went a little pale, but in a moment turned her obediently clutched hands toward the opening of her cage. The man grasped at them, bent them one wrist crossed over the other, and tied them with several coils of black rope, then cut another length and pulled her elbows as taut as he could, with just three inches between them; he tied it off efficiently and Dawn panted and tried to keep her back erect. Rapidly, he put the ball gag back in place. He tugged hard at her hair, and Dawn's head bobbed helplessly up. "MMMGH!" she moaned, and her captor suddenly brought out a pen-knife letting the sharp blade glide under her chin.

"MMMGH!" Dawn grunted again, but lower: had she totally lost her gamble? The man spun her round. While Macmillan, his brother-in-arms, was laying a blanket out on the concrete floor in front of the cage, the first soldier, called Burton, slapped her cheek hard, wrung her head a bit, nipped at her cheeks with his tweezing fingers, then hauled her out, placing her on the thick blue cotton.
-Spread your legs, whore!

Minerva was muffledly crying into her gag now, while Beatrice was knocking the shaft end of her fork into the plate in true prison fashion.
I said, spread your LEGS! spread them wide. You're gonna get some, sister" Burton repeated. He yanked her left nipple between his fingers to make his point.