Rebecca looks up again when the commandante steps back into the cell. Her eyes have now adjusted and she can see that he wears military fatigues himself. He has a pot belly and looks to be in his 40s or 50s, old enough to be Rebecca's father. His skin is dark, and he sports a bushy moustache.
Rebecca is stunned when he is joined by a white woman, at least six feet tall, with long blonde hair tied into a braid. She wears a black leather outfit, showing off a muscular physique and large breasts.
"This is our guest, Rebecca Wise. Rebecca, forgive me, I haven't bothered to memorize your serial number," the commandante laughed. "Rebecca, this is Elsa, and she will be looking after your well being.
Elsa stepped forward, water bottle in hand. She sternly took hold of Rebecca's hair, tilting her head back and dribbling a few drops onto her lips. Rebecca, still on her knees with her hands bound behind her, now had her back arched painfully.
"Her lips are sweet and full," Elsa noted with a thick nordic accent. "She is a fine specimen." She then poured half of the bottle down the front of Rebecca's shirt. The prisoner gasped with surprise and relief as the now translucent shirt clung tight to her breasts, her erect nipples poking through the material.
The commandante looked Rebecca over with approval. "Such a pretty little girl," he remarked as he fondled her milky white breasts through the thin wet shirt. How about we make you more comfortable?"
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