Tritriztan is a tourist destination that's still not too popular, and praised by the Guide du Routard (you bought it second-hand). So you let yourself be tempted.

On the spot, you met some very nice people, including a very attractive young man. Everything was going well until the police showed up...

While Tritriztan's vendors and hoteliers make a reasonable, if limited, effort to speak English, the police do Fstirrupnot. Eventually, you are told that your consulate will be notified and can send a representative (the embassy is several hundred kilometers away...) and that in the meantime you must cooperate, in your own interest.re-stuc

Two policewomen take you and two other women into a room and ask you to undress. There's not much choice anyway: there are other male policemen outside, so they'll just have to call for help... You and the other women start by taking off your tops and pants. The policemen put away each woman's clothes separately. You're now in your underwear. A policewoman points to your bra. At first you want to fight back, but soon realize that it would be a waste of time. The policewomen retrieve the bras.

Then it's the turn of the socks, at least for the two prisoners who have them (you were wearing sandals). And finally... the policewoman points to your panties. You were beginning to suspect that you'd have to go through this... but you hoped not. You comply and hold out your panties.

The other policewoman giggles. You don't understand the conversation, but they seem to be pointing at the hairless pubes of another prisoner. Perhaps, in Tritriztan, intimate depilation is not part of the mores and is a cause of hilarity. The other woman, an Englishwoman you'd recently met, is mortified.

As for you, when you hand the policewoman your white panties and she puts them back on your pile of clothes, she calls her colleague. Both giggle as they comment on your panties. Again, you don't understand the language, but the way they're holding them up and exposing the bottoms, you think it's possible that they haven't been the cleanest. You, too, are mortified.

The third pair of panties is retrieved, then you are made to put one foot on a stool and cough while a policewoman observes your crotch. As the third woman passes, the policewoman points to her sex. You understand that what provokes her comments is the tampon string. Apparently, in the secondary towns of Tritriztan, too, they don't use internal feminine hygiene products...

You and the other two women can hardly meet eyes, so ashamed are you. A towel is handed to you and the woman with the waxed genitals, and you are signalled to sit down on it. As for the third woman, she's taken away, along with your clothes, and you're left alone, naked, with a jug of water and two earthenware cups - a delicate touch, given the heat. The door is a grate that opens onto the back of a police station corridor.

Finally, you speak. What's going on? Why these arrests? What are you accused of? What are they going to do to you? What about the consulate? Etc.

Time passes. You've been drinking, and you're beginning to regret it. You've spotted the Turkish-style squat toilet in the corner of the cell, but you don't dare use it in front of the other woman, and with the possibility that anyone from the police station will pass by the gate.

Finally, the first woman is brought in. She looks very embarrassed, and avoids your gaze. She's wearing some kind of local panties. The other is taken away. You wonder whether you should ask your companion of misfortune any questions about what she's just been through, but she doesn't seem talkative.

You can't stand it any longer and squat down on the toilet. You can hear the pee flowing. It's humiliating, but what can you do? You don't want to pee yourself while being questioned.

The policewomen bring back the second woman, this one without panties. Now it's your turn.

You are led naked through the police station. People, men and women, look at you and comment, but you understand nothing. You have one hand in front of your sex, the other in front of your breasts. This parade is humiliating. You hope that the embassy will be firm and obtain sanctions against these policemen.

At one point, you wait outside a door. As your mind wanders, you wonder why the first woman, the one whose tampon string had provoked the sarcasm of the police shrews, has come back with panties and the second without... and you're afraid to understand.

We let you in. It's a sort of infirmary, with an examination table... complete with gynecological stirrups! A man and a woman in scrubs are waiting for you. The man speaks to the woman, who, probably not speaking English, let alone French, seats you on the table. A doctor, a nurse?

The doctor listens to your heart and lungs with a stethoscope, then takes a tongue depressor. He touches your jaw and you understand that you need to open wide. He inspects your mouth, lifting your tongue at one point. He passes some kind of cotton swab into your mouth. You understand that this is to check that you're not hiding anything. You consider the implications this will have on other parts of your body. The nurse, meanwhile, runs a brush through your hair, presumably to knock out any objects that may have been hidden there. The two of them exchange words, as do the policewomen. You don't even know if they're talking about you or the weather.

Then they gesture to you to lie down. You can see how this is going to end, but what can you do? You lie down. The doctor palpates your belly and comments. Then comes the moment when the nurse takes your foot and gestures to place it in the stirrups. You jump off the table. An irrational reaction, of course: one against four, you don't last long. You're slammed against the examination table, leaning forward.

One of the policewomen stands in front of you, clearly visible, and begins to undo her belt. She stops and says a few words. The three women laugh. A little discussion ensues. You see the policewoman leaving behind you with the wooden brush the nurse had used in your hair. Ouch! You'd seen on online sites that the hairbrush was an instrument used by American mothers on children's posteriors, but you'd never experienced it. You try to maintain your dignity, but soon you're squealing in a way unbecoming of an adult.

The spanking stops. You are released and beckoned back to the examination table. Sitting on your recently chastised bottom is very unpleasant, but soon you find yourself lying with your feet in the stirrups. For added safety, straps are placed around your wrists and ankles, and one around your waist.

The doctor takes a stool and examines your sex, which he comments on for the benefit of the other three women. You obviously don't understand what he's saying. The nurse comes to take a look. She still has the excuse of being medical staff, but then it's the turn of the two policewomen. The doctor points to things with his gloved finger at your vulva and anus, sometimes parting your lips. You don't know what's so interesting.

Then he grabs a speculum. As usual, this examination is unpleasant. The speculum is cold metal, the doctor hasn't warmed it up; and you get the impression that it's rather large. Your vagina is wide open. The doctor looks in. He shows the nurse your private parts; this time, thankfully, without inviting the two policewomen. Then he takes some samples.

The speculum is removed.

The doctor now inserts a gloved finger into your anus. It's very unpleasant, even if he has lubricated it abundantly. He explores you. He then grabs an instrument... which goes the same way. You've never had this done to you before, even by a gynecologist! First the doctor, then the nurse, looks inside your rectum. Then samples are taken. The instrument is removed. When will all this be over? you ask. The nurse talks to the doctor, then to the policewomen.

She places something at the end of the table, under your buttocks. She prepares something in the sink; you hear the water running. She comes back with a sort of jug fitted with a hose... She's not going to... But what can you do, you're tied up! The nozzle enters your rectum with ease, and the water begins to flow.

You don't know how much liquid is in the jug, but it must be quite a lot, because you feel intestinal pain. You try to tell them to stop; even if you don't speak the local language, the context and your expression should convey the message. But you can't! The enema is administered anyway. You make desperate efforts not to expel the enema.

The wait is unbearable while restraints are removed. You're finally able to get to your feet, but your stomach demands relief. Some sort of metal chamber pot has been placed on the floor. You try to protest, but realize that it'll either be the pot or you'll have the humiliation of messing yourself. So you squat down. on it The two policewomen are jabbering, and even if you don't understand it, you know it's ironic.

They hand you a roll of toilet paper. You wipe yourself. Meanwhile, the contents of the chamber pot are inspected... Did they think you were hiding anything? The doctor beckons you to lean over the table. You're too shocked to think of disobeying. Once again, his finger enters your rectum.

The nurse takes you into a small adjoining room. There's a Turkish-style toilet and, as is often the case at Tritriztan, a small showerhead for washing after use. You feel a gurgling in your belly - there must be some enema left - and expel it. You wipe yourself again. The nurse hands you the shower head. You wash your anus in front of her. She hands you some toilet paper. You pass it around... you're clean, it comes out clean. She motions for you to wash your hands. She speaks to you as you do so. You don't understand what she's saying, but by her gestures you understand that she's inviting you to be meticulous.

At last, you were returned to your cell. After all these degrading events, having to stand naked in front of the men and women in the corridors wasn't such a big deal anymore. You are reunited with your fellow prisoners.

The enema has probably acted as a drink; you must urinate in public again...

You are given prison uniforms. The next day, you're transferred elsewhere; you can tell from the signs that this is the capital. Even if it's unpleasant to find yourself in prison, with the promiscuity, it's better all the same.

The following day, you receive a visit from a diplomat. He explains that the Tritriztani province you were visiting has had a government for the past 5 years, the political axis of which is the re-education of corrupt morals: alcoholism, drug use, fornication, adultery, homosexuality, etc. As far as foreigners are concerned, as long as the acts are less serious, the authorities do not go as far as trial and long-term imprisonment or public flogging. They are content with humiliating procedures and a few days' imprisonment, to ensure that the person does not return. No, there's not much you can do - if you protest, the authorities will uphold the charges and go to trial, after an unpredictable period of pre-trial detention. The best thing to do is tell yourself that you'll get off lightly in the end, with a simple expulsion.

Why weren't you warned? Tourist guides indicate the local laws to be respected; it's up to you to pay more attention to them and not think that problems only happen to other people. What's more, the travellers to whom these problems occur are not going to trumpet the details of what happened to them; every now and then we see a euphemistic article published. As for our government... the diplomat, in a convoluted phrase, makes you understand that it is important for him to maintain good relations with Tritriztan, relations that cannot be called into question because of incidents that are, all in all, quite trivial.