Humiliation in Bolgovia

A world tour leads a girl to some strange customs

By Wendy A

During my last year at University several of us set about planning what we would do after Uni. A few were already signed up to start work but a majority were in favour of taking a year out to explore the world. Till then my foreign horizons were limited to France, Spain and Germany.

Our discussions progressed and others came on board; by May we had become a group of 16, six guys and the rest girls. It had also become clear that most of us had specific aims to visit countries that were not necessarily of interest to others. We set about formulating an overall plan whereby some could leave the main group and then rejoin again for the next stage. The overall plan consisted of 4 months in Europe, 4 months in Asia, 2 months in Australia, 2 months in South America and finally 2 months in North America and a return to the UK at the end of July.

As it was early June when we set off, the beaches of Southern Europe were a top priority, particularly as the weather so far that year had been wet and dull.

Initially we all set off together, but soon sub-groups formed to investigate more than the beaches. I stayed with the main group through Spain, France and Italy. Some of us found temporary jobs working in bars, cafes and restaurants which supplemented our modest resources.

During my third year at Uni I had become close to a girl from Bolgovia, Ramona. She was a bundle of fun and we spent a lot of time together. Before returning home she issued a permanent invitation to visit her in Bolgovia. When I had initially contacted her she was jumping with joy. We corresponded and it was agreed that I would stay with her for one month before rejoining the group in Greece. She had also found a possible job for me working for a Technical Institute on translations into French and English.

So as the others headed off for yet more beach in Greece I took the train and headed for Bolgovia.

I had a reasonably complete image of Bolgovia. The country was in Eastern Europe and was under a strict communist regime. I had been slightly surprised at how easy it was to obtain a visit visa which apparently permitted me to work at the Institute. On the other hand I knew that Ramona’s father was well connected and he had no doubt intervened.

Heading on the train from Italy I was shocked at the gradually disappearing views of wealth. Tractors and trucks were replaced by donkeys and bullocks, the roads in the villages were not paved and the people were all dressed in drab clothes. I had dreamt of cute little villages, whitewashed cottage walls, well trimmed hedges and kids playing football in a local park.

Eventually we arrived at the border of Bolgovia and everyone had to descend from the train. The few foreigners on the train were taken to a hut at the side of the railway tracks. Here our bags were searched, some of my toiletries were confiscated, I assumed either to be sold or given to the guard’s family. Passports were checked and finally there was a body search. There were two curtained off cubicles, one for men and the other for women. On entering, a rather gruff guard ordered me to strip; on hesitating to remove my underwear she growled and slapped my thigh. She started by feeling through all my clothes and in the pockets of my jeans. She then ran her fingers all over my body including my intimate area. After that she told me to dress.

Back on the train I reflected on my rather unpleasant welcome to Bolgovia and was wondering whether I should have gone to Greece instead.

Within a couple of hours we arrived in the capital. On descending from the train I breathed a sigh of relief, there was Ramona waving at me. I made my way to the exit and Ramona greeted me with several kisses on each cheek. She was with a guy in uniform who took my bag and we headed for the main exit. Right in front of the terminal there were a few black limousines and we headed directly towards one. I noticed that the other passengers were heading for either the rather scruffy looking taxis or equally ramshackle buses.

I sat in the back of the car with Ramona as we headed off from the station. She explained that she had a flat in an area reserved for students, State officials and their families. I was surprised that we had to go through two checkpoints on our way. Finally we arrived in front of an impressive villa. She explained that it had been converted into four flats; she had one on the first floor. We entered and climbed an impressive staircase.

Her flat was cosy and the walls were covered in posters and memorabilia from her foreign travels. The lounge was large with a dining area to one side. There was a kitchen off the lounge. Next she showed me my room, it was small but at least larger than the room I had during my first year at Uni. Next there was a bathroom with a shower over the bath, then a separate toilet, and finally her bedroom. Her room was a little larger than mine and the walls were plastered with pictures of pop singers.

Over dinner she went through the do’s and don’ts. The main do’s were to always have your passport with you, she gave me a list of telephone numbers which included her parents, two brothers and one sister, her father’s secretary and several others. If ever I became lost I should go into a shop and mention her father’s name and ask to be able to speak to him. She warned me about wandering off on my own and said that the police could pick anyone off the streets and hold them for sometimes days without any reason for so doing.

I was due to start work at the Institute the following morning and a minibus would collect us at 8.15am. She explained that she worked close to the Institute. The minibus would take us home after work and would be at the front of the Institute at 5.15pm. If for any reason I missed the bus I was to call her father’s secretary or anyone else on the list. Under no circumstances should I take a taxi or accept a lift from anyone.

The next day was bright and sunny when we set off for the Institute, despite the hour it was surprisingly warm, I was glad that I had put on a mid thigh summer dress and no stockings. Ramona came into the Institute with me and after checking at the reception we were taken up in a lift to the fourth floor and shown into the office of my boss’s secretary. We were invited to sit and were told that Mr Nascu would be with us shortly.

A few minutes later Mr Nascu arrived, he was medium height and somewhat overweight. He looked about 50. He beckoned us to follow him into his office and take a seat at his desk. He then briefly explained the role of the Institute, like a university for engineers. My job would be to check translations to French and English to ensure that there were no mistakes and that the texts read easily. He then called a girl called Maria, she was probably about my own age and had the most beautiful long black hair.

Maria took me along a corridor and into a large office. There were four girls there and Maria introduced me. They all appeared to be in their 20’s. Maria then showed me to my desk and brought up a chair to sit next to me. She explained the phone system, when it rang it could be answered anywhere in the office and it would be better if I did not answer incoming calls. Calls could be made out but only within the capital, for any other calls one had to go via the operator.

She then supplied me with a bundle of papers. She explained that I would start working on these. Each document had a French and English version, this should help me with any technical vocabulary. She provided me with an English-French dictionary and a small booklet containing technical words and phrases in the three languages.

She then left me to get on with my work. This was going to be rather tedious compared to lying on a beach in Greece. At least the pay was good, fifty dollars per week, and would help me finance the next stage of our trip to Asia. We had a break for lunch and ate in the canteen. There appeared to be mostly students but there were two tables set apart which I assumed were for lecturers. The food was good and reminded me of meals that Ramona had cooked for me at Uni.

The next morning I was called to Mr Nascu’s office with samples of my work. I placed a bundle of papers on his desk and went to sit opposite him but he beckoned me to stand by his side so that he could comment on any problems with my work. He seemed satisfied with my work and had few comments. All of a sudden I felt a hand under my dress and then he squeezed my bottom. I shoved his arm away rather brusquely and turned to face him. “Never ever do that again.” I gathered up the papers and left his office.

Maria noticed my anger as soon as I entered the office. “Did he touch your bottom?” She asked. I nodded. “I thought he would, I’m sorry but I should have warned you, I was not sure if he would do that to a foreign girl, now I know. He has a thing about girl’s bottoms and will take every opportunity to fondle them; he also resorts to spanking if he feels that that is justified.” She could see my shock at being told about his spanking. “Don’t worry, he does not spank very hard and we all receive a spanking about once a month.”

“But don’t you complain?” I enquired.

Maria explained that Mr Nascu was related to the wife of the President and that nobody would cross him, he effectively had diplomatic immunity and could do as he pleased including spanking a few bottoms.

It was the Friday of my first week, payday for me, that all six of us were summoned to Mr Nascu’s office. We stood in a row in front of his desk. For my benefit he spoke in English. “I have a rather serious matter to discuss with you. There is a sum of money, about five pounds, missing from the office petty cash. There seem to be three alternatives, either the five pounds is returned and I will punish the person that took it, or I can call the police, or lastly I can punish all six of you. Now go to your office and let me know in the morning what you have decided.”

We trooped out of his office. Once back in the confines of our office Maria took charge. “I am sure that none of us took the five pounds and it’s just an excuse to spank us. Let’s have a quick show of hands for those that will take a spanking.”

Four hands were raised. I intervened. “What about you Maria?”

“I’ll also take a spanking.”

What were they all thinking about, how could they even think of letting him spank their bottoms? I continued. “How does he spank you, bending over? What does he use? Does he lift your skirt?”

As it was lunchtime, Maria suggested that we go for lunch. She shepherded me to a corner of the canteen where we would not be overheard and started to reply. “I can imagine how distasteful a spanking from Mr Nascu may appear, he is not the nicest of men, rather creepy and lecherous. On the other hand we have learnt to accept it as one of the conditions of the job. There is nothing we can do and many girls get spanked by their bosses, some get it much worse and can have bruises for a week after. At least he does not spank hard. He spanks us over his knee, spanks with his hand, lifts our skirts and sometimes spanks us on our bare bottoms.”

She left me contemplating being upended over his lap, skirt lifted, and spanked on my panties, horror of horrors, he may even lower my panties. Maria ate her fill but I could only pick at my food. Once she was finished she said: “One word before I ask you for your decision, in these circumstances we will all have to agree, he can not spank us and report you to the police. If the police are involved it would be far worse than a few smacks from Mr Nascu. However well you are ‘connected’, there is little they can do for the first few hours or even days. You will be at the mercy of the police, they are likely to grope you or worse before you even reach the police station. You would then be put in a holding cell, perhaps not with us but with others. Girls that are arrested are often prostitutes or drug dealers, they are not very nice girls and are quite likely to abuse you. There are also the warders, seeing an innocent girl they may decide to have some fun and take you to the showers. You could be stripped and whipped, they tend to use a length of rubber pipe, it hurts like hell and leaves marks.”

“So I really don’t have any choice?”

Maria smiled and replied: “None really. Even if your friend’s father intervened immediately, you could be under their control for several hours before being released. They could release you without your passport and you would have to remain here for months before the matter was finally settled.”

That thought really did it. “OK tell Nacsu that I also agree to be spanked.”

Over dinner that evening I recounted the events of the day to Ramona. She was quiet for a minute and said: “I’m glad Maria had a word with you, she is right, never cross with the police, they are animals, rape is not beyond them when faced with a pretty girl and a foreign girl would just be that much more exciting for them. The warders and inmates are no better, they enjoy humiliating good girls, they enjoy flogging and sexual abuse can not be ruled out. My father would of course help but they are likely to tell lies like you resisted arrest, you kicked one or several officers, with accusations like that the time you could spend under their control is likely to be extended. The amount he would have to pay could be quite significant.”

I went to bed that night dreading the next day, it was a horrible thought, draped across his knees and letting him spank my bottom. I had tears in my eyes as I finally dropped off to sleep.

I woke early in the morning. After a shower I had to decide what I would wear. I decided on a pair of old fashioned cotton panties, like the ones I had worn at school and kept to wear at night when it was that time of the month. I thought of a tight skirt but decided against that as he may well tell me to take it off completely when he discovered it would not slip over my bottom. I finally settled for a summer dress, it could easily be raised and the ample material would offer some cover.

I had some coffee and a piece of toast. Ramona arrived in the lounge and we soon got on board the minibus. We drew up in front of the Institute and as I got up to leave Ramona leant over, kissed my cheeks and wished me luck.

The office was quiet when I arrived, gone were the happy smiles and the “bounjours”. It was nearly 10.00am when the summons came.

We trooped along the corridor and Maria knocked on Mr Nascu’s door. “Entrez,” came quickly and loud. As we entered we found that there were two other men present, both looked about the same age as Mr Nascu. Reinforcements or spectators? The latter I thought, they are all dirty old men, my anger was rising. It was so humiliating, not just one man but three.

Mr Nacsu announced that as it was a serious lapse he would be spanking our bare bottoms. My thick and full cotton panties would no longer help. Mr Nascu set up a chair in front of his desk and the two guys stood against one wall facing the six of us. It dawned on me that as Mr Nacsu was right handed, the two men would get a full view of our bare bottoms across his knees.

He called Maria first and told her to lift her skirt. She had also worn school like-panties which Mr Nascu slowly eased down to reveal a triangle of hair which gave her some protection from the leering eyes. ‘Shit,’ I thought. I had shaved myself before heading off to the beaches of Spain and had kept clean after that. He helped Maria over his lap. Once satisfied that she was correctly placed he started spanking her. True, his smacks were not very hard, it was not the level of pain that he enjoyed but rather humiliating girls. Her bottom was rosy red by the time he had finished. The other girls followed one by one, was he saving me for last? One girl had to remove her skirt; it was too tight to be pulled over her bottom.

Finally it was my turn; he held out a hand and pulled me closer to him. I looked at him with dagger eyes; his only reaction was to smile. He let go of my hand and I lifted my dress, he motioned that I should hold it higher, I could hardly refuse at this stage and pulled it up so my bra came into view, his smile changed to a grin. He slipped his fingers inside my panties and began to ease them down. His mouth opened as he realised that I was shaved, he just stared at my nudity and made me squirm, he’s disgusting. He turned me a little so that the other two men could have their fill of my nudity. I glanced at the other girls; they all looked shocked at my display.

He then pulled me towards his lap and helped me lower my body, this involved him touching me and I tried in vain to move away from his hands. As a final invasion of my body I felt a hand move between my legs and he pulled me a little further over his lap. He then started spanking my bottom, it was definitely not as hard as my Mother had spanked me when I was a teenager and had come home drunk and late. Not only did he spank my bottom but also his fingers ran over the afflicted area and even strayed to the tops of my thighs. Finally it was over and I stood quickly, recovered my panties and let my dress fall back into place.

Back in the office Maria came and sat at my desk. “He really enjoyed spanking your bottom, I think he had an orgasm while he was spanking you. I am sure that that will not be your last spanking at the hands of Mr Nascu.”

That evening I relived my horrific morning, Ramona was not very surprised and had obviously suffered similarly herself. She was slightly surprised at my being shaved, Bolgovian girls, at least good ones, would never shave themselves.

Ramona suggested that we go to a student club on Saturday night and perhaps have a meal out beforehand. She said she would call several of her friends to join us and arrange transport.

Saturday evening approached and before taking a shower I asked Ramona what I should wear. She came to my room and looked through the clothes in my cupboard. She picked out a summer dress and I was a little disappointed. Taking out a short red leather skirt I asked her: “Would this not be better as it is still warm in the evenings?” She replied that such a short skirt would likely attract unwelcome advances in the club and that I could be mistaken for a tart. To compensate for the rather staid dress, I chose some lacy white underwear and high heels with bare legs.

We set off in a minibus that she had arranged, she explained that the bus would stay with us all evening. It took about 20 minutes to reach the restaurant. There were a few younger clients but most were in their 50s or 60s. Ramona had reserved a table and there were 10 of us, 5 girls and 5 guys, all about the same age as Ramona. It was rather posh compared to where I had been eating in Spain, France and Italy and had a pretext of being French. The meal was nice but not exceptional.

After it was only a short trip in the minibus to the club. It was much like many clubs I had visited, there was tight security on the door but once inside it was huge. There were dance areas, bars, and cosy little alcoves. Ramona had obviously arranged for one of these alcoves and we sat on a comfy bench type seat and central table, there was plenty room for the 10 of us. A waiter brought our drinks and we danced to mostly American pop music. Several of the guys asked me to dance; it seemed that they were just a bunch of good friends with no one attached to anyone else.

After one dance I said that I was going to the toilet, the guy indicated that they were at the back of the club. As I was walking towards the rear of the club I heard a disturbance somewhere near the entrance. There were screams and those near me started to run towards the rear. Some of the guys tried doors that appeared to be marked as emergency exits but found they were locked. I was asking what was happening and one girl grabbed my arm and said: “Come with me.” We went into the ladies toilets; there were already several girls and a couple of guys inside. One of the guys tried the windows and one opened. With the help of a friend he climbed out. Unfortunately it was a closed area between several buildings and no way out.

I asked the girl who had spoken to me what was happening, she told me that there had been a fight at the entrance and that the police had been called. “The last thing we need is to be found by the police,” she said. “I suggest that we all climb out of the window and stay there in the hope that the police do not find us.”

The two guys helped the girls to climb out. Once all 8 of us were out he closed the window and found a stick to jam it closed. Although it had been warm that evening, sitting in the rather grubby yard was not pleasant, it was damp and felt decidedly chilly. We heard doors being opened and slammed shut as well as shouts and screams.

I am not sure how long we had spent huddled together in the yard only speaking in whispers. Clearly nobody wanted to be caught by the police and their fear soon transferred itself to me. Suddenly there was noise in the toilets and a loud bang as the window was smashed. Next a torch appeared; we were caught.

The guys helped us climb back into the toilet where we were handcuffed. Once everyone was inside we were manhandled back into the club and towards the front door. The club was empty except for police officers in uniform and some in plain clothes. Our guards were not very gentle and we were continually shoved this way and that, I nearly fell a couple of times. One girl did fall over and was dragged to her feet by two bulky officers.

Finally we reached the street and we were bundled into a black police van. Several officers climbed in after us. There were no benches and we did our best to hold on to bars running the length of the van. Once we had started off we found it very difficult to hold on and kept bumping into the others. The police officers stationed themselves next to us girls and enjoyed groping us. With only my dress and flimsy underwear to protect me I seemed to be the centre of attention and shouted out abuse in English and French, this only seemed to encourage them. Several of my co-prisoners told me to be quiet as I was only making things worse.

We arrived at a police station and were manhandled out of the van and into a large and well lit room. There were small tables on three sides and a large table at the end. We were each shoved to a table with a guard standing at our sides. Most of the guards were male but there were two rather frightening females that would not have looked out of place in a wrestling ring.

Several senior officers entered and started shouting at us. The girl who had spoken to me in English told me that we were to strip. She was told to shut up but managed to explain that I was British and did not speak the local language. The senior officer then said: “Well we have a little English girl who has got herself into trouble, what a shame.” There was a sickly grin on his face. “What I was saying was that you should strip completely, take everything off including your underwear.”

I was shocked, how could I undress in front of all these people, it was awful. Some of them had already started to undress and the guards were leering at them. The senior officer shouted again: “Get undressed or I will order two officers to rip your clothes off.” Left with no choice I started undressing and joined the others fully naked with my clothes on the table next to me. My shaved pubic area was creating quite a stir, several officers pointed at it and my embarrassment was even greater.

Each officer then started to go through our clothes. He found my passport in a pocket and held it up for all to see. The senior officer came over and took it. “A student then, a very silly student.” The officer spent several minutes fiddling with my underwear and grinning all over his face.

I noticed that one of the guys had become aroused; this obviously amused the two female officers who taunted him. The senior officer gave an instruction and he was manhandled over to the large table, laid face down and held spread-eagled by four officers. One of the female officers who had been taunting him took a piece of rubber tubing about 1 metre long and started whacking his bottom as hard as she could. After 5 whacks she handed it to the other officer who whacked his bottom from the other side. As he was lifted from the table his whole bottom was revealed, it was bright crimson and weals could be seen.

One of the girls opposite me kicked out at the guard. An order from the senior officer and she was manhandled to the large table and held down while the officer who had been kicked gave her 10 very hard whacks on her bottom. The girl who spoke English audibly said: “Fu..ing pigs.”

Two officers grabbed her. The first girl was helped off the table, she was in tears and she walked with difficulty back to her table. My friend was dumped on the table face down and one of the male officers assaulted her backside with the rubber tube. She shouted out at each stroke. Surprisingly she was not in tears but did find walking difficult.

We were each given a gown, it was made of rough material, and a pair of sandals. Our clothes were put in a plastic bag and we were told to write our names on a label which was attached to each bag. The guys were taken off by the male officers and we followed the female guards. As we were led out I noticed the senior officer waving my passport at me and smiling.

We were split between two cells; fortunately I was with the girl that could speak English. There were others in the cells and I counted 10 in total. There were simple benches and I noticed a toilet in one corner with no cubicle.

I introduced myself to my new found friend: “I’m Wendy.” She said her friends called her Lillie, short for Elizabeth. Lillie explained that she was a student and had become separated from her boyfriend when the disturbance had started. Her father should have been contacted by the driver and he would be checking round the nearby police stations to locate her. I hoped that Ramona’s father would have been informed as well and would put the wheels in motion to extricate me from this hell.

The sun had risen and shone into the cell from a window high up in the wall. It must be 6.00am and we had been picked up before 2.00am. I had not slept, not easy on a wooden bench. There was movement and the senior officer appeared at the door of our cell. “Good luck Wendy,” whispered Lillie. He beckoned me over and the door opened. I followed a guard down the corridor with the officer behind me. He gave me a couple of slaps on my bottom.

We finally arrived in a smart office with leather furniture. I stood next to the guard while he sat at his desk. “Now Wendy, what are we to do with you? You are a very pretty girl but are now in a very vulnerable situation. You could be held here for several days without anyone knowing where you are.” I noticed my passport on his desk. “Most of the people in this detention centre are not educated and in many ways behave like animals, eat or be eaten. If I told the guard next to you to rape you he would do so immediately. In the cells many of the inmates are dangerous, they have an internal mafia and would rip you from limb to limb if they so desired.”

I was becoming scared; he was playing with my mind and scaring me to death. Where was this going to lead? What did he want? He was clearly softening me up so that I would accept to do anything he asked on the basis that it would be the lesser of two evils.

His phone rang, there was a short conversation. Within a couple of minutes Ramona and her father appeared, I had never been so happy to see anyone in my whole life; I ran to her and hugged her.

The officer then spoke to her father in English. “I have been trying to impress on Wendy the mess that she had got herself into and how she could have been treated. She may have been a little humiliated but she is still in one piece, she should be very careful in future not to get picked up by the police.”

At that he handed me my bag and passport and the three men left the office. I quickly took off the gown and put my own clothes on. I turned to Ramona and said: “God I need a shower to wash this place of my whole body.”

She smiled and said: “Me too, I was only released half an hour ago.” We kissed and her father took us both back to her flat.

Later that day I was at the airport with Ramona and her father, and was booked on a flight to Greece.

The End


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