The Missionary Position Pt. 01

I had been working in overseas missions for about twenty years. It certainly was not a lucrative career but that did not matter to me. It had made me rich in other ways. I really thought I had made a difference in the lives of countless people that I had encountered. I thought I had seen just about everything and that there was nothing I could not handle. On this next trip, that would be proven wrong.

I had been asked to undertake a mission to Russia. Pockets of "evangelicals" existed in the major cities that badly needed whatever support or encouragement they could receive from the West. Accompanying me on this trip would be a recent recruit to our organization. Her name was Christine. (Her mother had so christened her in the hope that she would pursue a religious calling.) A recent college graduate, she had turned down chances at graduate school in order to come on board with us.

I was to serve as essentially her mentor on this mission. She made a very good first impression. Chris, as she asked me to call her, had a very warm smile. She had a bubbly, cheerful personality that I knew would serve her well in mission work. I also could not help but notice that, although she wore little make-up and was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt when I met her, she was exceptionally attractive. She was just beautiful--and she really did not have work at it.

This trip was expected to last for three to six months. For six weeks, things seemed to progress fairly smoothly. Our work was largely unhindered by local authorities, which was a pleasant surprise to me. Chris and I seemed to work well together. She was very much a "people person." I was more analytical and comfortable dealing with operational details. I also quickly came to become very protective of my younger ward, viewing myself as a sort of father figure for her. And that would make what would happen to us so much harder to accept.

It had been arranged for us to stay with the minister of one of the local congregations while we were in-country. One evening, I was there alone with our host when there was a sharp knock at the door. He answered, and three burly men brushed past him and approached me. They were insistent that I come with them to clear up some issues concerning the visa paperwork. My minister-host urged me not to go. But I assured him everything would be okay and I would be back shortly. I could not have known at the time that I would never see him again.

The men hustled me into a waiting sedan and off we sped. We drove to a walled compound on the edge of the city. At the entrance, military guards waved the driver through. We stopped in front of a nondescript two story building. Entering, I was roughly led into a small office. A uniformed officer was sitting behind a desk. The only visible adornments were a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling and a portrait of Vladimir Putin on the far wall.

There was no small talk. Harshly, the officer demanded, "We know you are involved in anti government activities and we insist on knowing who you are working for and who is your local contact."

Dumbfounded, I stammered, "This is just crazy. We are missionaries trying to help--"

One of the men grabbed me from behind. Another punched me hard in the groin and my knees buckled. The officer continued, "If you are not going to confess now, we will initially have to search you. Take off all your clothes."

The man holding me from behind released his grip. I staggered and came to my feet. I was absolutely shocked but saw that they were totally serious. Protesting my innocence the whole time, I proceeded to undress in front of them. When I was naked, the officer announced they would have to search me for contraband. The man behind me roughly cuffed my wrists behind my back. Another forced open my mouth and explored inside with his fingers. The officer then commanded, "Bend over the table." When I hesitated, two of the men pushed me down onto the desk. I then felt them taking turns ramming their fingers into me. With each exploration, I gasped and grunted.

Chris had been out with a few of the church members doing some shopping. As they exited a store, three other men confronted her. They informed her I had been in an accident. She was to accompany them and they would bring her to me. Her companions urged her not to comply, but she did so without question.

When Chris was led into the office, I was standing naked in the middle of the room with my hands cuffed behind me. The scene sent her into a panic. "Oh, my God. What is happening here," she cried.

The officer was no more pleasant with her. "We know you have been sent here to engage in activities against the government. We demand to know who you are working for and who your local contacts are." Chris was speechless. "Very well," the officer continued, "if you are not going to confess, then we will have to search you. Take off all your clothes."

Shaking, Chris looked pleadingly at me. I tried to reason with this man. That went nowhere. I offered to let them keep me there and do with me as they wished. Just let her go. It was all to no avail. One of the men grabbed Chris from behind. Another began to try to pull down her pants. Screaming, she exclaimed, "Okay. Okay. Leave me alone. I will do it."

As she tearfully came out of her shirt and pants, I muttered under my breath, "Lousy bastards." One of my guards heard it and roughly kneed me in the groin. As I collapsed to the floor, Chris cried, "I am complying. Leave him alone." (I thought of myself as her protector and here she was trying to play that role for me.)

When she was naked, she crossed her arms in front of her torso in a pathetic attempt to cover herself. This seemed to amuse our captors. The officer snickered, "You will place your arms at your sides and leave them there. Otherwise, we will cuff you like your partner here." With a sigh, Chris placed her arms at her sides. That prompted clapping and whistling from the captors.

Chris was then placed in a sitting position on the desk. Two guards pulled her legs as wide apart as they could get them. The others then took turns "inspecting" her vagina. She was then pulled off the table. Turning her around, the guards pushed her stomach down onto the desk. Each of them then took turns pretending to feel inside her ass for contraband.

When they were convinced there was nothing to be found inside of her, she was pulled up from the desk. The officer announced, "Since you have not yet confessed, we will have other plans for the two of you." He nodded at the guards. Two of them took Chris by the arms and marched her out of the room.

No sooner had they left than another person entered. The officer looked at me and smiled. "This will be your interrogator," he began. "Her name is Natasha. She is very good at getting confessions from uncooperative male prisoners." With that he winked at his colleague and strolled out of the room.