At 3 AM, old Mr. Hower woke up with a start. Outside in the street a pandemonium had broken loose. Screaming brakes, sirens, shouting voices, the sound of breaking wood! And all of a sudden his whole bedroom was bathing in light as if it was the midst of day. He got out of bed, reached for his glasses, and went over to the window.
Looking out he couldn't believe his eyes: it was a bust! A bust, finally! There were police cars everywhere, and vans. There even was a chopper hanging in the air. There were man and women in uniform, and guys in suits, some running around, and some taking on strategic positions behind the cars and car doors.

His heart jumped for joy! Finally the city had decided to intervene! And high time it was, too.Everybody in the neighbourhood knew what went on in that rat hole across the street, and it been going on for years! And now, there would be an end to it! There: he saw the first scumbags being led out, hands cuffed behind their backs! From his standpoint, on the second floor, he noticed how a few dark figures were trying to escape over the roof. Shots were fired from the chopper, and two of them collapsed. The other three gave up, putting their hands in the air, then sank to their knees, awaiting arrest.

Returning his attention to street level again, his heart skipped a beat. Standing in front of a spotlight was one of the suits. And in his arms he was carrying an Asian girl. Although she was squirming like a fish on a hook, he controlled her easily, holding her up, a feet above the pavement.

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She pushed the button on the intercom.
"Name?"
"Cate Brenzano"
"Password?"
"Charon".

The heavy steel door sprang open, and she entered the club, more tense than ever. Almost ten months had they been working towards this night, setting up her cover, introducing her fake identity, winning trust. Months of training, too, honing her already considerable fighting skills. On top of that, she had been working out like crazy, turning her body into that of a fitness contest champion.
She walked pass the lounge of the club, went straight for the kitchen. "Evening, Miss Brenzano!" "Hi there, Wang!" No time to chat, not tonight. In the back of the kitchen, she opened the third closet from the left and got in, closing the door behind her. She took a deep breath, then pushed the -6 button of the hidden elevator. She was on!

Finally, she would get her briefing! And with a bit of luck, enough information to close down the whole operation for good! This was going to be her first meeting with the top dog, known only as Bojan. He was going to tell her what her role would be during the raid, as he had done with all the other participants. Nobody would know fully what the other ones were doing; everything would be executed strictly on a need to know basis.
But that was OK: she didn't need much information for the bureau to take them down. Just the time and place would be enough.

The reason Bojan had to inform everyone in person was his pathological paranoia. He did not trust anyone, not even those closest to him, among who were two of his brothers. Unfortunately, that superstitious suspicion also led to the way these briefings were held, which made her extra nervous. She had arrived.

Entering what seemed like an empty factory hall, she immediately saw it, near the back wall. The infamous rack! The only other objects in the hall were a table with a desk light on it, a chair and a large clock, on the wall next to the elevator. There was one other lamp, hanging from the ceiling. And there was a man, sitting at the table.

"Good evening, Miss Brenzano!" Nikolic! Her stomach turned, as she was very aware of what would be expected of her, next. Shit, why the fuck had it to be him who would get to do it. She felt nothing but revulsion as she walked towards him, across the hall. During all these months, she had been avoiding him as much as possible, turning a corner as soon as his diminutive figure showed up, always leering at her, following her around with that slight limp of his. And now she had to approach him of her own free will. Finally, standing in front of the table, she could actually smell him, not in a good way.

"Okay, you know the procedure: strip!"

Yes, she knew the procedure. Due to Bojan's paranoia, everybody he encountered for these briefings had to strip down to his or her underwear, eliminating the danger of any concealed weapons. This seemed rather superfluous though, because after that, the person in question would be strapped to the rack, rendered helpless anyway. But this was Bojan: better safe than sorry!

Though she had mentally prepared herself for all of this, she had not considered having to do it in front of this little shit! But it would be useless to resist, and with a long face she took of her leather jacket, then, balancing on one leg, zipped open her low boot.
After her boots, she lowered her pants, stepped out of them.

"Hey, what's with the light?"

Nikolic had clicked on the desk light, aiming it straight at her. "Will you cut that out, dip shit?!" She shielded her eyes, couldn't see him behind the lamp. "Sorry, all part of the procedure!"

Cursing, she took of her socks and her T shirt, and there she stood, wearing nothing but her bra and panties, captured in that cone of light. She coud hear him cackle in the dark. Goddamn!

"Very nice! Now: to the rack please!"

Barefoot, she walked over to the back wall. He followed, carrying the chair. She glared at the thing with dislike. It was immediately obvious what went where and what the function of each and every thick strap would be.

"All right, now turn around, with your back to the rack, please! Very good, now raise your arms up and out, yes: just like that!"

He placed the chair in front of her and stood on it. Reaching up, he started with the straps on her left wrist. After that, the ones just above the elbow and the shoulder followed. As he turned his attention to her other arm, he was already huffing and puffing. The bastard had the condition of an eighty year old, she thought to herself. And good God: the stench! After he had secured her arms, he dismounted the chair and sat on it, catching his breath. Tentatively, she tested her bonds.., and there was no way she was getting out. He saw her muscles tense a few times, and there was that infuriating cackle again!

"No way, muscle slut! Men with three times your strength have been standing there, helpless as a baby! Sweet!"

She looked down at him with disgust. So he went both ways obviously. Not that she had anything against that, being gay herself, but... anyway!

A few minutes later she was completely secured. She looked at the clock. Forty seconds until Bojan's entrance. So fortunately, the troll would take his leave, because the briefing should happen strictly person to person.

But he didn't. In stead, he stood in front of her and, reaching up, deliberately grabbed her left breast.

"You fucking sick midget! Get away from me! Look idiot, Bojan is going to be here any second now; shouldn't you be hobbling off, moron?!"

"No-no, my powerless super slut!" He kept squeezing and pushing, while explaining.
"You see: I have moved the hands forward a little; we still have some cool five minutes for ourselves, just you and me!"

She went berserk, yanking, wrestling, fighting the straps with all her might. To no avail. As she looked up again, she realized how much he had enjoyed this demonstration of her impotence, and with disgust she slumped back.

He stood next to her, placed his hand on her stomach. Then, looking her straight in the eye, he slid his hand down, into her panties, and cupped her crotch. She closed her eyes. Then, opening them up again and, with him fondling her lips, looking him in the face:

"This is the last day you will have the use of that hand. I guarantee it!"

"Oh, I sincerely doubt that, Yvonne..."

"Oh yeah, you miserable piece of..."

All of a sudden, her voice flagged and she couldn't breath. Yvonne! He had called her by her real name! She looked back at him, her eyes now wide with fear!

And while his thumb and index finger had found the knob, starting to circle her clit:

"Yes, detective Jackson, we've known about you're little mission for over three weeks now. And guess what: Bojan isn't coming! We'll have the entire night to ourselves!"

(From the interview with staff sergeant Kate Morrisson, as told to Female
POW magazine #42, nov/dec/ 2016)

"One very early morning, one of the guards came in and pulled me up by my hair. Two months earlier, when they caught me, he wouldn't have been able to do so, but by then it was about half long, and I hated it. Even as a young girl, I always had my hair cut short. And now it was irritating, itching, clinging, and in my face all of the time, and without the use of my hands I could never correct it. All I could do was shake my head, or try to blow it out of my face.

Anyway, we went outside, me stumbling after him, half bent over, his hand still in my hair. My arms were behind my back, tied into a box tie, and I had a hard time keeping up, not seeing clearly, trying to avoid roots and holes. I heard other men, laughing and talking, shouting. I didn't understand a word
of it, of course, but they seemed very excited about something.

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The woman known to the FBI only as the Rohypnol Maid, has finally been taken into arrest in the small town of Biddomfield. She will stand charged with abducting, molesting and sexually assaulting forty one families over the course of ten years.

Her true identity, as stated by the BFPD, is Marlene Brewer-Thompson, aged fifty nine.Mrs. Thompson was the director of a theater company which she and her husband had founded, thirty years ago. It had been a traveling company, performing in most of the states, apparently with modest success, until ten years ago, Mr. Thompson died a suspcious death. And although Mrs. Thompson was a suspect for five months, in the end she was acquitted, for lack of hard evidence. During those months however, the company had gone bankrupt, and it was then, that Marlene Brewer-Thompson went of the radar: there had been no record of her whatsoever after her discharge.

As it has turned out now, she has kept traveling, taking jobs as a house maid in different house holds, in various states. And it was in her capacity as a maid that she started her criminal career.
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