Suddenly there is silence, I hear a heavy door closing and my heartbeat ringing in my ears. The whip is removed from my wrists, quickly replaced with ...cold metal cuffs. My arms are dragged high above my head, until I am stood barely on the tips of my toes. There is a quick jerk and the clink of metal against metal. I am left suspended, my arms stretched, my shoulders already beginning to ache. Masculine fingers fumble with the last remaining buttons of my blouse, then it is simply torn off me,. Nisha- acha agar main tumhe apni dusri panty du to chalega saath me tum mere hips rub kar lena magar upar se varna pad hil jaega hum dono- chal thik hai magar hum kisi or ladki ki bhi dekhenge jiska bag khula hu … jaldi kar hum upar vali floor pe wait kar rahe hai vo 5-10 min upar aai or 3 panties lai …. yelo saalo ye do meri hai pehle ye btau ab tum inka kaoge kya tabhi 3 dungi …Main- muth marenge tu bahar ja or panty hume deja…Nisha- main kyu bahar jau main bhi tumhara dekhungi lund…. dekho. Nor audio. There was no written account of what was said. Of what the senator decreed; nor what Ash and Fleming agreed to.The next significant moments were captured on that interrogation room video which ran continuously — with one brief exception — and was saved, duped, and eventually distributed. For posterity, for future training, for blame assessment.Ash, over the intercom, said, “Rowan. Stravinsky.” The two guards looked up at the camera. “This is Ash Collins. I’m in charge now. Engage. That cod-psychiatric definition (lifted from an internet site) was good enough for me. My reclusive middle-aged neighbour, Madeline, I’d decided, was most certainly a voyeur.I’d been fascinated by the Peeping Tom phenomenon ever since seeing Hitchcock’s ‘Rear Window’ back in the 1950s: a rather over-rated movie in which the wheelchair-bound James Stewart thinks he’s witnessed a murder being committed in the apartment building opposite. The French artist Fragonard’s painting The Swing is another.