Then they slid my hands down the pole until I was bent over with my torso parallel with the train floor and my breasts dangled obscenely underneath me... Others pulled me back so that my arms were stretched to the limit holding onto the metal pole, then rudely yanked my legs apart. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man with a video camera to his eye, the bright light washing over me. This was about the last humiliation. They were filming my rape, no doubt to watch later, post on the Internet,. It was only the second occasion that we had been alone together and the first real opportunity we'd had to speak since he had arrived the previous evening. Since then, he'd spent most of the intervening time in intimate contact with my wife. In theory there must have been a number of relevant topics, about which we could have meaningfully conversed. In practise, I was too embarrassed and too self-conscious to broach the subject. I assumed Carl would be similarly reticent. However he seemed. More

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