Red Sunset

[HistBuff]

Chapter 18: The Flogging

Captain Sidorov's thoughts...

I attached my footsteps to the General's and walked out of the mayor's mansion as if I was one of his aides. The Major of our regiment also followed, along with the handsome Lieutenant commanding the light infantry company where I served as an unofficial supernumerary advisor. The first reason was a shared sense of curiosity as to what this court martial was about. The second reason appeared in front of me, in this bright morning sun, in the form of a neatly pretty young woman that looked tall and majestic in her saffron dress with long brown hair that fell like cascades of warm light under that sun.

Nadja. As usual, she was with her eunuchs, four muscular Turks dwarfing her with their large frames and wearing colourfully red outfits of Ottoman folklore that looked grotesquely out of place here in Yekaterinburg. Mahmoud their leader looked at me and my hand hoovering near my holstered Nagant. I saw the fear in his eyes and relished it! The eunuch had seen me shoot. As long as I was with the General and armed, I had nothing to fear from this young witch whose breasts kept tantalizing me as perky shapes hidden by her sunlit dress, under a corset I had never seen either. And yet I knew what her vagina felt like. Sometimes, I almost liked her.

I offered her a jeering grin as I walked past her, walking after the General and along the other officers, looking only briefly at her and those breast shapes I coveted so much it was now like an opium. The General had only nodded at her in a cold way, probably also taking note of this whorish looseness of her hair. He clearly didn't like her very much. And it was clear she loved to stand there and tantalize all men present, knowing no one would dare touch the Colonel's daughter.

As I walked away, I caught sight of the hobos and beggars who had nearly spent the whole night waiting for their chance to come inside the house and do what they please with the mayor's daughters. It was the usual dregs you'd find in any large city. Former soldiers maimed and/or disfigured for life; old men who'd sweep the street and beg for a living; sick men who had been deemed too sane to be in a madhouse; vagrants, etc. All of them ugly and wearing filthy clothes that should have been thrown away a couple of years ago. Most of them old enough to be grandfathers. All with the same light of mad lust in their eyes.

There was a temptation to go back inside and watch the unthinkable orgy, but I had already seen enough of such unthinkable scenes to be able to picture exactly what was going to happen and how, without even being there to see it. It would be a wild rush and perhaps fist-fights to see who would be the first man inside the mayor's younger daughter and her sister. The mother would be the acceptable alternative. The other wives and young ladies would also get their taste of a hobo's stinking intimacy and hear the vulgar grunting and jeering.

If they had some sense of style, which I doubted they had, they would run their dirty paws all over Yelizaveta's naked charms and Ekaterina's, committing those sensual curves to the memory of their touch; they would take the time to gently press those white breasts and hold these soft contours with their hands so they would enjoy the stark contrast between the genteel skin and the dirt of their hands; they would take the time to lick and kiss the young ladies everywhere, even their feet. And only then they would imprison them in the caressing prison of their grunting frames.

I heard the screams as I walked further away and recognized Ekaterina's broken voice. It had long turned husky. The loud acclaim and the vulgar jeering took possession of the mansion and I knew that those dregs of the city had no sense of style at all. They would immediately grab the daughters and rape them from behind, possibly deep inside the ass, like the bunch of no-good vagrants they were. They would drink all the vodka without the style to pour some of it on the young ladies. No style!

***

We didn't have to walk long. The court martial was set in the same plaza where yesterday's festivities had happened. The Commander-in-Chief was a man in his forties, with very short hair and a stern face with a long straight nose, wearing a khaki uniform with a Navy white peak-cap, imperial with three eagles on his shoulder pads. One could wonder what an Admiral was doing so far inland. His collar was decorated with a solemn white cross, perhaps bestowed by the Czar himself in better days, and there was much strength in his face. Another white cross above his left chest pocket confirmed he was a long-serving officer.

He sat on a cushion chair near a long table where three Generals already sat along with one Colonel. Before them stood thirteen men in a sorry line; men with faces cast down and holding their garrison caps in hands that were forced close together by bonds biting at their wrists. Men under guard, to be judged and sentenced.

Then I saw two noble-women, who stood by among another group of officers. I trembled as I grew aware that these two ladies were known to me; and I couldn't believe my eyes! There stood Countess Hendrikoff, shielded from the sun under the same wide hat I had seen her wearing when I first met her two months before in Tobolsk. She was just as lady-like as then, perhaps even more knowing what she had gone through. I still vividly remembered the noble-woman whose dress was savagely torn off her body by vodka-drinking Lithuanians. I especially remembered the very moment when those men made me have her first on the deck of the Russ, while Romanov daughters were being violated in their cabins.

I had every reason to tremble and fear for my life when the Countess suddenly looked at me, her face white, something unfathomable in her eyes. I was doomed! But she remained silent. Her unspeakable shame seemed to protect me.

At her side stood Tamara. Tamara as she was in Tobolsk, when she was still inviolate. There was no mistaking the troubled expression in her face, which blushed to a crimson as she recognized me; and then she looked down at the plaza's asphalt. Her dress and the matching rose ribbon that highlighted her raven hair, all of it bright under the sun... It was her indeed. With her hair tightly styled in a high arrangement that said she was of a noble birth and nothing bad could happen to her. She was now all-powerful, protected by the White army and one word from her would send me in front of a fire squad.

Once the Major-General had joined the three other generals sitting on the court, Admiral Alexander Kolchak spoke, his voice filling the air:

"Here stand in front of you, Generals of the Court, thirteen men who have committed all sorts of acts on the person of Baroness Tamara von Greifswald Palhen. They treated her like a... Well, you know what sort of things they did. So here they stand in front of you, to be judged and be sentenced as they deserve to!"

The Admiral's gaze met mine and I heard his voice like in a dream: "You, Captain, you will step forward and plead in their defense!"

Why me?!

I almost said it aloud! But I did step forward and saw the terror in each of these thirteen boys. They were all farm boys who had committed the crime of being at the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong person. Since there were no negroes in this army to bear our collective blame, the boys had to be white.

"Walk faster, Captain! From the way you hesitate, I can see you seem surprised to be wearing those shoulder pads! I know a low-birth man when I see one! Yes, this will be neat, very neat indeed to have those peasants being defended by one of their own! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

The officers all started to laugh at me, filling me with rage! I swear to God I was tempted to draw my revolver and shoot the Admiral. He sat about fifteen yards away. Point-blank range for me. It would have been quick and easy. But I had one hope that kept me from sacrificing myself; the hope of seeing my wife again. So I stood tall and proud, all six feet of me, and said nothing. My gaze perchance met the Countess's and there I saw it. Love. In her eyes.

I became transfixed, as if turned to stone! How could she still be in love with me?

The Admiral pulled me out of my reverie: "Do the pigs in your farm have eaten your tongue, Captain? Speak up! How do you plead, guilty or not guilty?"

"Please, Sir!" the Major-General said in his Czech accent. "Please, Sir, do not mock this officer! I heard much praise about him and his skill with his side-arm! This is Ivan Sidorov, the very man who represented Russia in the Olympic Games in Paris! He's in one of my light companies."

"Not guilty, Sir! I say they are not guilty!" I bellowed, emboldened by the Bohemian Count's words spoken in my support. Tamara would suddenly speak up and this would be my last moment. This pleading of mine would be my swan's song.

"Not guilty! How insolent!" the Admiral sneered. "All right! Proceed!"

The Major leading the prosecution was clearly a born aristocrat who cast me a stare filled with contempt, although he was a great deal younger than myself. Perhaps thirty years old, and owing his rank to his birth and nothing else. He had no doubt spent the Great War in palaces, possibly a young officer near General Tatischev. And I was now serving in the army fighting to perpetuate such injustice where the born man was usually higher than the man of merit! Serving under an Admiral who openly mocked me because of my own birth.

"The case is very clear, Generals of the Court!" the young Major said, his finger pointing at the thirteen men. "They have defiled the person of a Baroness. A Baroness! With their filthy hands! And I say they must hang!"

Those words were said after some simple facts had been established. Those men had gone to a brothel where the old hag owning the premises had referred them to a girl named the Gypsy, saying she could tell their fortune and do a great many other things.

"She didn't cost all that much, Sir!" pleaded one of the boys. "She was cheap and how could we have possibly know she was noble?"

"Shut up!" the Major replied. "Silence! Don't you speak about the Baroness using the word cheap! I say you must hang! All thirteen of you!"

"But this ain't our fault! We went to the brothel and bought a girl! Where's the crime?" said another boy.

"Shut up!"

"And she did behave like a strumpet!"

"She was clearly used to get treated like this, Sir! She even said she was enjoying it and..."

"Shut up! Shut up!" the Major shouted, his face white with rage.

"Order! Order!" the Admiral bellowed. "Now, lets hear what our peasant Captain has to say for his peasant boys!"

I pretended not having heard and spoke my plea:

"Generals of the Court, these men stand before you for a crime that has not been said aloud, so I'll say it. Rape. The prosecution wants to hang them for rape, isn't it right, Major? (The young Major nodded.) Well, they did not commit rape!"

"What?!" the Major ejaculated along with the Admiral himself and all generals except the Czech Major-General and the one Colonel.

"No rape was committed," I went on. "There was no rape because these men have paid money, rubles, for the services of a girl known as the Gypsy. They bought the services of a prostitute so they could, uh, enjoy her services for the night. And they did not know who she was."

"So you think they should be set free?!" the Major blurted out, looking at me with a face stupid with contempt and bias.

"Yes, I think they should be freed right away! No crime was committed and a great many of us have done a lot worse since yesterday."

"But they must hang!" the Major spat out. "They Must Hang! They have gang-raped a Baroness, treated her like a whore! They must hang! And hang twice!"

"I forgive them!" said a girl. Tamara! It was her! What a beautiful voice she had! What a beautiful rape she made!

She came forward, looking like some Greek princess in an antique tragedy as she pleaded for boys who had debased her. "I forgive them! This wasn't them! These boys would be living a peaceful country life if it weren't for the war. They would be happy to live their country life under the quiet rule of nobles, if it weren't for the war! Free to dream under the sun! Free to smile at girls and take a wife to be happy with! No, they are not guilty. War! War is the guilty party."

"So, lady Baroness," the Major said, taking off his peak-cap as he spoke to Tamara, "so you say we must let them go free?!"

"I didn't say that!" the tragic princess replied. Oh, how noble she looked as she stood there, majestic and almost looking tall in spite of her small size; the rose of her dress so bright under the sun that she looked like a radiant goddess of Spring!

"I didn't say that," she said, her voice loud and profound. "I say it would be such a pity to execute such handsome boys! Killing them would make the world a less happy place; it would leave widows or perhaps future brides who would remain without a husband. These boys are so full of life! Let them live! Yes, yes, let them live so they can f... so they can fight again for our mother Russia! Seeing them flogged will be satisfaction enough for me and for the memory of my departed father, bless his soul!"

"A flogging! That's a wonderful idea!" said one of the generals of the court, a cackling old man who clearly ate a bit too much.

"Yes, a good old flogging using a knout!" the one Colonel ejaculated, his thin flegmatic face like a flame of sunlit skin under his cast-behind peak-cap.

"Yeah, let's give them a few lashes and let's have lunch! With vodka, and girls!" added the Czech Major-General while winking at me.

"Twelve lashes of knout!" Tamara suddenly exploded, filling the sky with her heated voice, and she was sweating with excitement oozing out of her eyes. "Twelve! One for each man who... who bought me and thirteen cannot be given, for this would bring ill-luck."

***

The case was settled for twelve lashes for each man. To be given by thirteen men chosen by the Admiral himself for their brawn and the strength in their arms. Admiral Alexander Kolchak was far from pleased, so he meant for each man to feel the knout as deep and hard in his skin as possible. Indeed, the knouts turned out to be special models with the usual tongue of rawhide leather at the end of a rod, but these whipping tongues were studded with iron! Each lash would tear some skin clean off! Twelve suddenly became heavier.

The sentence was carried out about noon. All boys were stripped naked. I could tell the Baroness was taking delight in what she was seeing. The Countess was positively horrified, albeit she stoically remained at the side of Tamara.

Thousands of Czechs were assembled and I was there too. Happy to be standing in the fourth or fifth row and safe enough from the Countess, who could turn against me in spite of her feelings. I was scared of those knouts! But I was fascinated by the Baroness! Her lithe figure looked so powerful! Like a lovely little troubling Queen on a chess-board when the wind of the battle just turned in her favour.

And I noticed something very peculiar at the hem of her long rose dress. Her feet. She was barefoot on this sand! Barefoot near that place where scaffolds had been hastily erected for the flogging. Many men must have noticed. The barefoot Baroness seemed to fill the air with a savage will to go and grab her and have a long gang-fuck inside her! In broad daylight. Every man cheered as the first knout lash fell on bare skin!

The men screamed pitifully, shocked by how painful this one lash was. Given by a strongly built man with all his might.

This was just one lash.

Eleven more followed. Each one taking more skin and blood off the men's backs.

Tamara nodded along with each new lash, her face tilted down as she looked at the flogging with a slight smile. Her bare feet on the warm sand, a dignified figure in her long dress, the noble maiden was clearly enjoying every second of the thirteen men's ordeal. While the Countess stood by her side, her face white under her wide-brim straw-pale hat. The sun made the blood shine like ruby at each strike from the knout.

The place was filled with the men's screams. The Admiral smiled, his face growing more feral with each knout strike.

Once the ordeal was over, the boys were dragged away and into a house where they were treated. The crowd dispersed. The Admiral took the Countess and the Baroness to a lunch party to which I was clearly not invited.

I stood there, alone, transfixed as I watched the desert spot where the troubling Baroness had stood barefoot. I wanted so much to fuck her! But she was now out of my reach.

An iron grip imprisoned my right wrist, then the other as I became aware that my Nagant was pulled out of its holster. Then one painful punch cut my breath and my legs collapsed under me.

Mahmoud stood above me, smiling. Another Turk also grinned as he showed me the Nagant he had just taken from me, yet again. Standing between the two other Turks, Nadja smiled, smug in her sense of safety, flaunting the shapes of her bosom in her saffron dress. The sunny apparition of a witch who always caught me off-guard.

***

I was taken to a small wood away from the outskirts of Yekaterinburg. I knew what was to follow. Nadja would once more ride on top of me while keeping her garments on. But she had other plans.

Mahmoud was holding a knout!

I began to panic when the Turks bared my torso and tied me to a sturdy birch. I was to be flogged! With an iron-studded knout.

Nadja spoke, or rather snarled:

"So you think you can mock me in public and get away with it? Mahmoud! Strike!"

The pain was unimaginable when the first strike fell! I screamed the loudest I had ever screamed. Birds flew away. The warmth on my back told me I was already profusely bleeding. The second strike fell, even worse! Like a thong of red-hot iron!

"I will show you what it costs to slight me! Change up with Mustafa! A fresh arm to strike harder... Now Mustafa, strike!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

After the fourth or fifth lash, the Turk stopped. It was only to give the bloody knout to the third eunuch. There was movement around me. A rifle shot tore the air.

"Mahmoud! Nooo!"

Nadja was kneeling down on Mahmoud's fallen figure, crying as she covered his face with kisses. Other shots rang through the air and not one of the three other eunuchs was missed. They each fell on the bright green ferns, their colourful Ottoman costumes making them look like fantastic lead soldiers that had met their fall.

Then, all of a sudden, there was a voice I knew. The Czech Major-General! Soldiers presently filled the place. Mahmoud died while Nadja was grabbed and forced to stand by a pair of tall grinning soldiers from the light company. I knew them! Anton and Oleg, both of whom who hated the Colonel's daughter, like two thirds of the regiment.

"At last! We caught you!" the General said. While I was quickly untied and given some ointment for my wounds, I saw the General approach Nadja, with the handsome First Lieutenant standing by and smiling, his trousers tensed by an erection and his eyes filled with mischief.

"It was a girl who said the Captain was in trouble here," said one soldier. "Where is she now?"

"Yes, a girl saved him," said another Czech. "I could swear it was Anastasia Romanova, I've seen her once. But how is this possible? The Admiral thinks that the Czar was murdered with his entire family. They even killed the pet dogs!"

Anastasia? Dead?! And she...

A sharp gun-shot tore the air.

The General had just forced-kissed Nadja, whose arms were restrained between soldiers as she screamed with rage. The General was groping one of her breasts through her dress when a second shot quickly followed the first one and he fell like a sack of potatoes, blood on his face.

"Sniper! Take cover!" the Lieutenant ordered.

"Where do you think you're going, bitch!" a Sergeant barked as he grabbed Nadja as she tried to run away. He lifted her and was almost behind a tree when a third shot rang and he fell. I saw that the bullet had gone through his head. So the story was true! Nadja did have a sniper watching over her!

"Give me my pistol and give me cover! I saw where the shots are coming from!" I said. I was going to get revenge!

Taking a precise note of that tall tree where the sniper was hidden, I took off and ran into the forest, shirtless with my bleeding back hurting me, but I was going to get this son of a bitch! He had killed the General, and now it would be a hanging matter for Nadja as accessory. If he was a sniper worth his salt, he'd have to climb back down that tree and either run away or take a new position. Shots rang through the air. The soldiers were giving me a good covering fire as I ran in a sweeping arc through the woods. If I was fast enough, I'd catch him at the foot of that tree!

Indeed! I was lucky enough to see his small figure still climbing down that tall tree with a scoped rifle strapped on his shoulder. He was, sobbing?! Of course he was! His mistress was taken and there was nothing he could do! Nothing except run to avoid being captured himself.

I caught him by the ass and then took him by the waist and hurled him off that tree trunk with a strength that was multiplied by the rush of this life-or-death situation. This ass was no man's ass!

As I kicked her in the side, there was a sharp groan that could only come from a girl! The sniper was a she! Indeed, the fall of her soft cap set free a luxuriant profusion of long black hair.

Soon after, I was pushing her in front of me, her arms tied up behind her while I kept pushing her through the wood and picking her up every time she fell. Her scoped rifle in my hand as the all-important murder weapon for her trial.

Two men had been shot dead. A Sergeant, and the Major-General. So much for his dream of late-marrying a peasant girl in his native Bohemia.

The handsome Lieutenant stood where Nadja was sitting between soldiers; she was crying as she kept looking at Mahmoud's corpse. Two of the Turks had been bayoneted through the throat, no doubt after having been found still breathing.

"What do we do now, Sir? But what?!" he said as I emerged from a copse while pushing the captured sniper in front of me.

"Holy cow! She's a pretty thing!" a soldier exclaimed.

"We got a new fuck doll here! Look at her long black hair! Oh, God! The pleasure of stripping her out of this little khaki outfit! Ohh, Old Church! What a pretty little ass she got there!"

The little sniper wept pitifully as she was grabbed by a few soldiers who lifted her off the floor and laughed as she tried to run, her boots meeting nothing but thin air was she began to cry and beg the men to please let her go!

"I know what we'll do, Lieutenant! We rape both girls and take them to the Admiral for another court martial! But let's have our fun first!"

As I spoke, I went to Nadja and ordered the soldiers to make her stand in front of me. The little sniper cried out as men assaulted her uniform, and soon the sun rays fell on the fantastic display of her breasts! They were small, but looked pleasingly full on her small frame; her nipples of a radiant brown waiting to be sucked. Her despaired screams filled the air as she was promptly forced down until she lay on her stomach and her trousers were promptly pulled down her thighs, and so we all saw how soft and white her butt-cheeks were!

"Let her watch as the fun begins!" I ordered, pointing at Nadja. A first soldier was already on top of the sniper, who yelped when the penetration occurred.

After a quick, grunting rape, the soldier relieved himself inside the sobbing girl and another man, this one a sturdy Corporal, took over.

"You will get it deep in the ass! You Will Regret killing our General! No escape--AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh yeah! Deep! Deep!"

"NAA AAAAAYYYAAAAAAAAeeeAAAANNNHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" shrieked the poor girl!

"Shut up and do your job!" the Corporal snarled between his teeth as he brutally entered her rectum and the girl kept wailing and screaming as her anus was properly ravaged.

Filled with lust, I turned to Nadja and kissed her by force! With rage and with the satisfaction of knowing she was now helpless and I was finally going to see her naked! My back still hurt, but it was a trifle next to the gigantic load I was going to give this witch! The sniper's anal whimpers were a fitting background for the act as I began to tear her saffron dress and had the joy of hearing her scream and protest. AT LAST!

"Nooooo! No, please! Sidorov! Noooo... I'm so sorry! So sorry! But noooo! Nnooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

I made short work of her dress-top while the pair of grinning soldiers held her arms. There was nothing she could do! Her corset was a fancy model of pale beige fabric. I heard her plaintive wail as I strongly pressed her sides and out of the hooks went the busks! The corset was opened and discarded.

The last thin layer of her petticoat did not stand a chance. One loud tearing sound and a scream later, Nadja's breasts were looking at me.

"At last!" I uttered as I drank all the light from Nadja's breasts! I loved how the forest light fell on them! Loved how her disarrayed hair fell on her shoulders! Loved how she begged and pleaded! Loved the humiliation for her! Fear was in her eyes now!

Everything slowed down like in a dream when my kisses met her pale nipples and my tongue took possession of her areolas. The joy I felt when I pressed her tits in my hands, while watching the panic in her eyes, could only be conjectured. Nearby, a soldier was raping the sniper as she lay naked and spread-eagled, and her voice was now subdued in a rhythmic flow of whimpers.

Most of the men, including the Lieutenant, were waiting for their turn to rape the Colonel's daughter. They all knew how she had persecuted me and knew I deserved to be first with the full benefit of added time.

Soldiers helped me in getting rid of all remaining garments until Nadja lay Eve-naked on the forest ground, the triangle of her hairy cunt an open invitation as I put a finger inside her, then the middle finger and enjoyed the pleasure and freedom of doing all I pleased with her.

"Nooo noo this cannot be happening!" Nadja cried out. "This cannot be happening!"

"Oh, but it sure is!" I replied as I rolled her around and began to kiss her butt! It was quite a round of fun to lick this vast plain of silky skin. I couldn't forget the way she stood in front of the men during the flogging, knowing and enjoying the fact that so many men secretly wanted to fuck her.

Not wanting to keep the Lieutenant and the dozen men waiting, I had her kept on all fours and feverishly freed my hard cock!

"Now Nadja! Now!" I shouted as I sank inside her! Deep and hard! She screamed in pain. I raped her like a savage! Ignoring her scream! Enjoying her distress! Nothing existed now except my hands on her waist and the urgent collisions against her curves! It was soon over. Ooh! The pleasure of my wobbly legs hit hard and left me breathless as ropes upon ropes were angrily spewed out inside her. Deep!

Then came the unfathomable pleasure of watching the Lieutenant enjoy her in the same way, with short nervous strokes as her head fell down on the ground and she took the rest of his fury on her knees and elbows, her protruding buttocks soon wet with vodka as the soldiers mocked her. After the explosion, the Lieutenant gave way for a Corporal, who took his pleasure just as fiercely and he would be followed by seven or eight more men, some of whom gave Nadja the opportunity to deeply understand the pain of being sodomized near her dead eunuchs.

Soon enough, all the men had spent their loads inside Nadja or her sniper. We wanted more! Most of us were already hard again.

The little sniper, with the face of a tomboy, was heavenly beautiful in the nude. There was something that the light made in her pale skin, something in her boyish ass that made a man obsessed with the idea of fucking her and giving her a lot of sperm, all of it nicely completed by that long black hair that had fallen like a dark cascade of death when her soft cap had fallen. She had killed the General and was already as good as dead; so we had to give her a really nice gang-rape since this would be her last fuck.

I found myself kneeling behind her and entering her pussy! I never liked anal rape, so I went at it inside her, hard and good; and since I had already fertilized Nadja, I lasted much longer this time around, which gave me a lot more time to enjoy each new collision against her boyish butt, while enjoying the scent from her ravaged cunt as she seemed to almost enjoy the coitus, from the way she kept quietly whimpering. Submissive. It suddenly struck me that she was young, really young. About as young as Nastya herself was.

And I began to cry as I remembered what the soldiers had said earlier; a girl who was perhaps Nastya had told them where I was before vanishing; and this was how I was saved from a devastating flogging. My back was screaming in burning pain as I kept crying, knowing that Nastya was probably dead. I no longer felt in the mood for sex, but I passed my edge! As I held those boyish buttocks and got hypnotized by the sniper's butt-crack, I erupted out of control in long, delightfully strong ropes of semen!

Three or four more men were waiting their turn to punish the sniper who had shot the General and their Sergeant. Her whimpers turned into frantic groans as the first man raped her ass with unrestrained hatred, while the others encouraged him and promised her that it would get even worse when they'd be owning her. Her shit was going to be hurt bad!

So I was saved by a girl who then vanished. How? Why? There was no explanation.

The reality was, Nadja was finally caught at her own game. I sipped vodka out of a flask as I watched her being enjoyed in different positions, by soldiers who hated her and truly enjoyed the punishment they gave her. I especially loved the part where they lifted her clean off the ground and kept her like a graceful spread-eagled figure between them as they ravaged her again, again and again! With each stroke, her nipples seemed elevated in a dance for the sun whose light bathed the whole scene happening in a clearing, witnessed by silent trees. On whose trunks the satisfied roars and grunts echoed as each next man took his bliss inside Nadja.

Nobody dared take her mouth out of fear she would bite. The fear was even stronger when it came to the naked sniper; she was quite adorable and it was hard to remember that such a pretty brunette with childish-small hands could give death.

I'll confess that at one point, my lust ran away with me to the point where I covered the sniper's feet with slobber, where she was kept on all fours, before masturbating like a grunting lunatic until I gave a pungent load to these dainty feet, totally forgetting what she was as I gave a hot coating of gloss to her tiny heels while going madly obsessed by her earth-dirty soles; such tenderness of skin in a killer! I then madly caressed her butt with both hands, caressing her small curves while landing kisses upon kisses on this small vastness of silky skin. She was as white as death!

Once the scheming witch and her sniper were properly filled up with our sperm, once I had pressed Nadja's breasts until she shrieked out of pain, when the sky would soon turn ablaze with sunset lights, I sealed Nadja's fate.

"We will kill her right here and bring in the sniper!" I suddenly ordered. She shrieked.

"But, Sir, she's the Colonel's daughter!" the Lieutenant objected.

"And this is why we have to kill her! Oh, keep them quiet, will you? We have to kill her and say it was enemy snipers who killed her and the General, and we captured this one! It's the only way to save our necks!"

The Lieutenant and the men knew I was right. The Sergeant who had been shot was well-liked. And all these soldiers hated her. One of them handed me the sniper's rifle while others tied Nadja by her ankles with her wrists tied up behind her.

She screamed and the naked sniper shrieked, "Nadjaa!" when I quietly pressed the trigger and gave Nadja a quick death on her knees. She fell naked amid her rapists. She died while looking at the four dead Turks.

I shot her between the eyes from ten yards, because we would wash her body and get her corpse dressed again, right down to the shoes on her feet, so no one would be puzzled by the absence of blood on her dress. This would be a rare case of head shot, and it would raise no question since the General had been shot through the head as well.

"All this thanks to that girl who vanished! I tell you, Oleg, this was Grand Duchess Anastasia! I saw her once. I always thought she was pretty."

"This can't be! She's dead, Anton! Dead! The Admiral said so!"

[HistBuff]

Chapter 19: Love In The Night

Sümeyye Sidorov's Secret Journal (written in Turkish)

Petersburg, June 2nd

The newspaper-boy is always present in my thoughts! Yesterday morning, I offered him some loukums, those little sugary squares invented in Istanbul by Haci Bekir Effendi back in 1776. He looked astonished and kept looking at me as if I were a ghost! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! He's a good Russian boy, too young to go fight the Czarists. With eyes of such a fascinating ice blue! Ooh, he makes me feel as if I were still his age... and then I feel how old I am. But I know that I would never cross the threshold and betray my marriage. And yet I can't help but feel curious about what it would be like to be intimate with a boy half my age.

I miss Ivan! His touch! The way I feel when he's near... From as long as I can remember, he always made me feel funny! I've always loved him, always will. Oh, such a faithful husband! I can't even think of him being with another girl. Girl! I'm turning thirty-one next December! And yet, I can't get used to thinking about myself as a woman. How vain I am, taking pride in looking so very young for my age! Boys still look at me in the street when I go to the bazaar in the neighborhood where most of the Turks live in Petersburg.

As for the newspaper boy, he shyly nodded and took the two sugary squares I gave him. Spassiba, he quickly said, thank you, with his face blushing as he looked at me with those lovely blue eyes of his. Yes, he was looking at me with a mix of uneasiness and curiosity. He probably never had a girl companion. As for me, I've only ever loved Ivan, and Ivan was already twenty-eight when I first fell in love with him, as a twelve-year-old child! So that must be why I've grown so fond of this boy. I want to know what it's like to be with a boy. And I don't have much time left before the gone-by days turn me into an old woman.

My young sister Sibel is often calling on me, even spending nights at our second-floor apartment of two bedrooms. Since Ivan went missing in action, I've been living alone, so I'm happy to have her company. I was often the one holding her hand in the street when she was little. How time flies! She's already twenty-six. She never married. Once, six years ago, she lived with us in secret because she was pregnant. Then she had a miscarriage and went back to her old place where she worked, and still works for herself as a fortune-teller. Tarots, crystal ball, reading hands; that's her world, and I have to say she has the looks for it too. It seems that her hair is even silkier and blacker than mine! Maybe it's the astonishing number of olives she consumes, from breakfast to dinner!

One morning, she asked me if she could live with me. The reason was her safety. She reads Tarots by herself at her place, alone with her customer. She had several close calls with a man who began taking liberties with her; she's a very pretty girl! I never asked her how she became pregnant, but I'm afraid she was taken by force.

"I know that your husband has left you a Nagant revolver," she said. "You could hide in the next room with it, so I'd feel so much safer! Of course you would share the proceeds with me. The money can get quite good, especially when I give special services to my client!"

I didn't press her about what those special services were, but the expression she used disturbed me. Was Sibel a prostitute?

"No, my beloved Sümeyye, at least not all the way. But you see, whether I reveal a bit of myself or not, there's always an element of risk for my person. Some clients are... insistent, even aggressive and they can easily turn violent if you don't know how to handle them. I insist that a client come alone, but sometimes, he has friends just outside the door; so things can degenerate fast.

Ivan would be furious with her! Sibel is exposing me to a risk from strangers. I should have said no, but some element of curiosity made me say yes. After all, I know how to use a revolver, so the risk isn't that great. But I find that the element of danger makes the whole business pretty exciting!

Sibel brought her things over and two nights later, she received her first customer, a man with grey hair, perhaps as old as sixty springs. I peaked from the dark, through the curtain. Sibel was sitting at the dinner table, which was covered by a dark burgundy table-cloth where the tarots were displayed. From her small height, she commanded the place with her mysterious aura, with her black cat sitting near her, while the old man, wearing the dark bourgeois outfit of a well-off fellow, kept staring at her as her dainty hands moved the cards and she told him his fortune in a most glamorous way. It was an aspect of her I had never seen in the flesh.

She looked like the proverbial gypsy girl, her face looking both young and timeless at the dim light, her dark dress, shawl and hair making it seeming like she was only a face with two moving hands. The old man was horny; I could sense it from a mile.

"Tell me, Sibel, will I soon see the boobs of a young lady?" he asked.

"The cards are telling me you probably will," my sister replied.

"Will she be a gypsy girl, by chance?" the old man said, his smile a grotesque version of what his smiling face used to be decades ago. His expression told me he was foolish enough to think he was still somehow handsome. He clearly wasn't, Allah knows!

"She could be. About twenty years old, noble Sir," Sibel replied. I could tell she had done this many times before.

"How much to see your tits, young lady?"

"Ten rubles, fifteen if you want to touch and kiss them!"

"That's a bit stiff! You ain't sixteen anymore!"

"Thirteen rubles to suck my tits and you'll see, noble Sir, they look and feel much younger than I am!"

"Yes, yes, young lady! You're a small girl, and small titties always look fresh and young! All right, disrobe!"

The old man was panting. My own breathing got harder as I watched the whole deal from behind the curtain, protected by the darkness of the living room. He threw the rubles on the table, amid the tarot cards, while Sibel swiftly removed her shawl and the top of her dress; she wore no corset! She stood from her chair and looked at the old man while flaunting her topless beauty. She indeed looked much younger with those boobs in the nude. It wasn't that they were firm in the brave way they rode high; they looked so smooth and pale with such a small impertinence that it was like travelling a full ten years back in time!

I felt jealous! My own breasts, I think, do not look as nice as Sibel's, even though they are about the same size with nipples of the same Ottoman brown.

As if Sibel's offered breasts were the be-all of his existence, the man came at her and began to kiss her tits while tenderly cupping them. I watched, keeping as silent as I could, but my heart was racing, I was panting! I was soaking wet! This old man was sucking the breasts of my baby sister! She looked like some damsel of a scandalous young age in the arms of some lecherous old man! Something inside me felt like finding out what it would feel like to take such a grotesque old man inside my mouth! Until he'd explode on my bare breasts! Oh, dirty me!

After a while, the old bugger asked for more:

If I give you another twelve rubles, will you completely disrobe yourself so I can kiss you everywhere? You're like an angel!"

"Men are unhappy because they can't appreciate a turn of good fortune! I will not let you see me naked; keep the curiosity alive for another time, noble Sir."

"I can give you fifty rubles if you let me have you on this table! Fifty!!"

"The noble Sir is very generous, but for twelve more, that is a total of twenty-five rubles, I can kneel at your feet, take you in my mouth and let you have your load any way you please! I can swallow it or take it on my tits if you like, even on my face if you prefer..."

"YEs! Yes! I haven't had such a young lady doing this for many long years! Yes!"

"But before, give me your gentleman's word that you will leave as soon as your business is done. I insist!"

"Yes yes, I give you my word!" the old man said as he threw twelve more rubles on the table and undid his trousers almost at the same time!

My jaw dropped as I saw his cock! A respectable size; so straight and proud! I felt strongly drawn to it! It was so tempting! To taste another man for the very first time in my life! The fact he was old and repulsive gave a surprising zest to the whole affair; I was so wet!

Sibel, always topless with her dark dress, knelt down at his feet and promptly took it in her hand. The man began to grunt as she began to massage it, and just as he was asking her to take him inside her mouth, she did just that. Slurping sounds filled the silence along with his grunts, as her pretty head bobbed back and forth and she worked his entire length, keeping a gentle hold at his base and performing a small twisting motion that I took note of for when Ivan would return to me.

"Aaahh yes! Yes! Young lady, I... Ooh yeah! This is so worth it! Hhaaaaa haaa, yes it's soo good..." the old man uttered, clearly approaching his boiling point, while my sister kept insistently working his length with her mouth and tongue, presently firmly massaging his base with her hand! She was skilled! Now I knew why Mother threw her out.

The old man became frantic! He was moaning like a mad horny fellow as he ran his hands through Sibel's dark hair, caressing her head while feverishly calling her young lady, as if repeating a mantra; no wonder a young lady can be such a bliss for an old man whose appearance has gone sour! He could only pay if he wanted some action with a girl like Sibel.

He exploded and let go of a load that was so impressive! He had pulled out of Sibel's mouth and literally showered her with no less than four strong bolts of semen! I pressed my mouth not to scream as I watched the whole thing! And heard his long-sustained groan as he erupted in absolute bliss!

"Thank you, young lady! Until next time," the old man said, taking his stovepipe hat and his long jacket. True to his word, he left at once.

As soon as he was gone, I rushed at Sibel and began to lick her face!

"Sümeyye?! What? What are you doing?! Stop!"

I didn't listen! I kept tasting that semen off her face! It tasted pungent with an old man's salt! The very first time my tongue met the semen from a man other than my husband! I couldn't stop! I was mad! Sibel's face was so pretty! It felt so erotic to remember that moment when her pretty face received the discharge from this old man; erotic, and comically grotesque.

Before I realized what I was doing, I was kissing and caressing Sibel's breasts! She didn't do anything to stop me. Her hands ran all over my head, her fingers through my hair. She was moaning! "Sümeyye... Please, sister! Stop this, I... I... c-can't allow... this..."

But I just kept going! I was mad with lust! Lust for sex with another person than my husband. Even with my own sister! As long as it was with someone nice. The next day, we would never talk about it, but from that moment on, Sibel shared my bed. It felt so warm and nice to have someone to sleep with in this large bed! Sibel's tits were truly lovely and fascinating to kiss. I had no idea I would be doing this with another girl, let alone my sister. All the weirdness of Ivan being perhaps dead made me act as if I were a different person. And besides, doing this with another girl wasn't cheating.

Sibel went to the bathroom, and when she came back, she tried to talk me out of it, but her eyes were filled with curiosity. She suddenly asked me to remove my own garments so she could see my breasts. She said she had always felt jealous of them, that I was the prettier sister. And I said no, it was her! She was a good four years younger!

"Sümeyye, my lawful sister, you get your half of these twenty-five rubles; now, take off all your clothes and lie down on this table. Lie still while I show you a sister's affection, to each and every delightful inch of this body I'm so jealous of! Your husband is a very lucky man! Shame on him if he ever cheats on you!"

My hand trembles as I write how Sibel used her mouth and hands on me. I would never had imagined that the touch of another girl could stir me so much! Maybe it was due to the loneliness I felt, and the dread of thinking Ivan might be worse than just missing. Sibel's tongue got acquainted with my breasts with such gentleness as I lay naked on this table! And I caught myself wishing that the old man would return, having forgotten something and finding us like this! I had forgotten to lock the apartment's door after he left.

Sibel kissed me absolutely everywhere! She positively had done this before with other girls. She would later tell me that some of her clients were in fact women, usually some widow or old woman with money. I was a rare treat for her because I was still young with "Allah forbids soft skin" as she puts it. And when she used her tongue inside me, I sank in my innermost fantasies and moaned as hot and hard as if Ivan was fucking me on this very table, which he often did.

A group of Soviet soldiers came vivid in my mind as Sibel's tongue worked its magic inside me! Handsome boys! Their soft hands on me! All with blond hair and ice-blue eyes; so exotic to my Eurasian eyes! All kissing me and my tits with their clean-shaven face! Their ice-blue eyes filled with fascination over my nakedness! I pictured them fucking me like the strongest champion! On this table. One after the other. Filling me up with angry-sounding grunts! Oh, how that table would creak from their urgent thrusts inside me!

"Yeah yeah yeah, deep inside me! Red cocks!" I moaned while my sister's tongue took me closer to heaven with each new stroke!

These handsome boys! Fucking me, a girl nearly twice their age! And then I fully admitted to myself that my absolute fantasy was to be gang-fucked by Red soldier boys! All of them immorally young! All of them with a hard cock that the laws of physics will allow to sink inside my pussy! And how they would fuck me! Their eyes filled with curiosity as to how my small breasts would move under their impetus! And I would beg them to all take turns inside me; while holding my wrists firmly, as if they were raping me!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE BOYS!!!" I screamed as that tongue took the stroke that made me weightless and bursting with heat! It took me some time to remember where I was and with whom. And then, I realized with a mix of fascinated horror and wonder that I just became immorally intimate with my own sister.

Some weeks later, after a late supper, as I lay in bed with Sibel after we made love again, I had that same dream where a girl told me my husband was all right. This girl carried an air of graceful nobility and had blue eyes filled with merriment mixed with unfathomable sorrow. "Your Ivan will be all right, Mrs. Sidorov, he's alive, but I'm so sad! I've lost my board-game of colorito. I'm so sad, so very sad... Ho, Mrs., would you serve me some strawberries with whipped cream?"

And I would hug this funny-looking girl, as merry as a child and as gloomy as death. A young girl, as short as myself, with chestnut hair that smelled like heaven. Small hands that touched me and moved like an angel. So adorable! Then she was gone. Who was she? But I believed her. Ivan was still alive and one day he would return to me.

***

Captain Sidorov's thoughts...

That girl who saved me from the flogging... If she was really Nastya... Why did she save me? It doesn't make sense! At the station in Tyumen, I made love to her while my men were raping her sisters! She should hate me! But was it just a coincidental resemblance? She could have been just a local girl who happened to look very much like her...

But I love to think it was Shvibzik, the Merry little one. This morning, before I was to be interrogated by the Admiral, I had not slept for the second night in a row, and like floating in a dream, I visited the Ipatiev House. The guards let me pass due to my rank, and the officer on duty went inside with me. A fine young fellow who seemed thrilled to be talking with an older officer. I was indeed an officer the youngsters could easily talk with.

He took me to the cellar, where I found obvious signs of an execution by fire squad; nearly half the plaster on the far wall was heavily damaged by a great many bullet impacts, and this suggested that the men forming that squad were either drunk or kept missing on purpose, perhaps both. The sickly yellow wall-paper seemed embarrassed to still be there. Large blood stains were darkening the floor, a clear sign that several people had been murdered there.

"They also found three dead dogs, Sir. Bayoneted, except one darker dog that was killed by bullets."

"I think this was Ortipo; it belonged to Grand Duchess Tatiana," I replied, on the verge of tears and trying my best to keep my countenance in front of this junior officer young enough to be my son.

"You knew her, Sir? You were perhaps on duty in Petersburg?"

"No, but I saw pictures of the Czar and his family, bless their souls!"

"You... you think they're dead?! This can't be! I mean, this cannot be, Sir!"

"It begins to look like this, Lieutenant, and the Admiral thinks so. If the Bolsh..., if those brigands had simply moved the family, then why kill the dogs? It doesn't make sense, unless..."

"Unless what, Sir?"

"The answer is, I'm afraid, a very unpleasant one, and..."

As I spoke, my voice began to tremble and a tear rolled down my left cheek. I quickly wiped it off using my sleeve and said, "Let's go through the house; we... perhaps I'll find something..."

We went upstairs and found ourselves in the drawing room, where stood a long, massive table. The Romanovs ate their meals there and... and I had little doubt as to what other uses the guards had for this table, especially when the Lieutenant told me that the daughters had been kept in a room on this very same floor.

I rushed into the bedroom and saw four beds. The ominous number that so often means death.

"Everything has been left as is, Sir. I'm with you to see that nothing gets disturbed. The officer in charge of the inquest shall be here any minute, Sir."

I looked through the stuff, doing my best not to show that I knew what I was looking for. The world danced around me; the floor was dancing under me as I kept looking through the belongings of the Grand Duchesses. On a cupboard, there was a picture showing a smiling Maria along with some young officer, and Nastya in the background... I was tempted to take it, but the Lieutenant was watching me and doing so would be theft of official property.

There it was! I tried to repress my sobs as I recognized the playing board and the pieces... Colorito. It was Nastya's board-game of colorito. She would never have left without it!

"Noo! Noo! Noo! Nastya! Nastya--aaaaaah aaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..."

I fell on the ground and began to sob while screaming like a demented man, shouting Nastya's name and begging her forgiveness. I lost track of time at this point. All I know is, when I came to, I was restrained by bonds in a cell. It was quite dark.

The girl who saved me... It was Nastya! Had to be. I never believed in ghosts or supernatural beings, but I couldn't find it in me to accept the idea she was gone forever. I couldn't bear the thought of living in a world where she was no more. She was so sweet and I was so horrible to her! Why did she forgive me? Countess Hendrikoff has forgiven me too. Tamara probably did as well, since she had herself forgiven all thirteen men who had bought and used her! Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanova was too gentle and good-natured to go through such violent times. She should have been allowed to go into exile and become an actress in England. And have those strawberries with whipped cream.

Yes, I believe! For I cannot accept a reality where she's no more.

***

The doctor who saw me said I wasn't the only officer who had cried and sobbed upon learning that the Czar and his family had probably been murdered.

"Everybody is visiting that cellar," he had said. "They all want to see the place where they were shot and killed. All clues are pointing in that direction."

"I know, Doctor. They're dead."

"How can you be so sure? There's still a hope they were only moved and some other people were executed in that cellar."

Then I told him the story of how I was "saved from some Bolshevik partisans who had posed as Turkish circus strongmen wearing a colourful costume". A girl had led soldiers to where they were flogging me using a studded knout.

"Doctor, I'm sure they would have flogged me to death if it weren't for that girl! One of the men, Anton, a private, could swear that this girl was Grand Duchess Anastasia!"

"Nonsense! This man had too much to drink! Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanova, bless her holy soul, is either dead or captive. There's no way she could be around here!"

I stuck to my story—The soldiers and the Major General had been led by a girl who then vanished; and this girl was Anastasia! I could not tell anyone about the game of colorito being Nastya's most prized possession as this would betray me as a former Bolshevik officer who had served in the guard around the Grand Duchesses. So I stuck to my story about the girl who had vanished after saving me.

I stuck to my story when they brought me before the Admiral, who looked at me very sternly as he spoke:

"The Major General and Nadja were both shot dead and once the General was dead, you were the highest-ranking officer in the premises! You're responsible for what happened, and this is why I had you tied up in a cell. Oh, the Doctor said you had a shock, that you need more rest, but your little play in the Ipatiev House won't keep you from being disciplined! No it won't!"

"Admiral Sir! I was tied up to a tree and being flogged when they arrived to rescue me! There was nothing I could possibly do!"

"This is what you did next, after your men freed you, that will seal your fate in this Army, Lieutenant! Yes, I'm demoting you to Lieutenant and whether you remain an officer will depend on what you say next, so think very carefully, Lieutenant, before you answer this next question. What did you do once you were rescued and saw that the General and the Colonel's daughter had been shot by a sniper?"

The Admiral's words tipped me off as to what the handsome Lieutenant had told the Admiral. He was a true friend! He had protected me by telling the Admiral that Nadja had been killed by the sniper along with the General. He had also protected himself by saying so.

"Admiral Sir, the Lieutenant in command of the light company of the 7th was also present. Could he come here and testify along with me?"

"My dear Lieutenant, you were in that cell a bit longer than you think! You slept like a stupid stone. Perhaps the Doctor is right and you're off your rockers. The 7th regiment had to march forward yesterday and the light company with it, and the entire Czech Legion will soon follow under General Jan Syrový—Learn his name, Lieutenant, for he's your commander in chief. We still have a war to win. Colonel ..., I don't recall his name, has remained here, however. The man has been delirious and quite insane since he lost his daughter. She was buried two days ago, and so was the Major General, a great loss for us! So I want to know, what did you do when the General was dead? The captured sniper gave much confused answers and was not of much use other than entertainment for the men, so I'm asking you. What did you do next as the highest-ranking officer present?"

"We, Admiral Sir, we gave chase to these partisans! You see, Sir, that sniper wasn't alone, but she's the only one we managed to capture."

"And what about the body of Nadja? Did you leave it unattended?! Her dress was all torn! As if a group of men had tore it off her, to strip her naked! To do things to her! To her corpse."

"I... I'm afraid we did, Sir, well Sir, I... I was quite in great pain. My back was a bloody mess, Sir! I had received no less than seven strikes of knout when I was saved, Sir, and Sir, you've seen for yourself how painful it is to get struck by an iron-studded knout! My judgement was altered and we, I did what I thought was the best course of action with the fifteen men I had, Sir!"

"You're a fool! You could have led those men straight into an ambush! You stupid and clumsy fool! And so, Nadja's body was left unattended, where she was no doubt found by some local men, who ripped her dress off and... And we all know what those animals did. Nadja was a very pretty young lady, Sergeant! Yes, Sergeant! You lack the most elementary judgement! All you had to do was to leave two men to guard the corpse. Two men! Even a fifteen-year-old fähnrich* would have done better than you!" (* fähnrich = officer cadet)

"Yes, Sir."

I felt relieved. He was only demoting me. I could have easily ended up in front of a fire squad!

"Now, in consideration for your long years of service, as I've been told you served during the Great War, you will be reduced to the rank of Fel'dfebel and your new commander in the Czech Legion will do whatever he pleases with you! You'll have your marching orders to-morrow. Now leave!" (Feldfebel or Felwebel = Master Sergeant)

Only then did I became aware that I was alone with the Admiral, except for those two sentries at the door. But I accepted my fate and why would I betray the White Army? We were on the winning side! The oil-lamps told me it was probably late at night. Then, I heard light foot-steps, and a young lady wearing a rose dress walked in, with long dark hair that reminded me of my wife. Tamara! Light foot-steps that played the most sensually quiet music, for she was barefoot. And she avoided my gaze. I was one of her rapists. One word from her would sceal my fate. But it was the stern Admiral who spoke:

"Don't you know when to take your leave, Sergeant? Be off!"

***

Feldfebel Sidorov's thoughts...

What sort of dignity did Tamara regain with the Whites taking over? She was a damsel for the highest-ranking officer. Still a prostitute. Certainly not free to go back to her native castle in Latvia if she wanted to. Countess Hendrikoff was no doubt in a similar predicament; her rank regained, as long as she gave her ass to some old general.

This was a warm night at the end of July.

The city of Yekaterinburg was asleep as I went outside after collecting my Nagant from a Sergeant at the door of this mansion, next door to the Mayor's house, where music and songs were no longer heard. Only the sobbing of girls who had been stripped of all human dignity, by troops who were the same no matter what side they fought on. A sentry saluted me and after some hesitating, I saluted him back as I realized I was still wearing my Captain's shoulder pads. With the Imperial stars on it. Nastya must be happy from high up above, to see me wearing these. I was missing her voice most of all. The touch of her feet under the table when we played colorito was one of my most precious memories.

High up above, the sky was as clear as black satin with myriads of stars. The Plough constellation was showing me where to look up for the north. Then I looked westward, knowing that far beyond the horizon was St. Petersburg and Sümeyye, the prize of victory waiting for me. She was waiting for me in the land of the sunset. We were fighting on the side of justice and we would crush the Bolsheviks! Soon, it would be the Red Army's sunset. Soon.

"My good sir, will you give me 20 kopecks? You'll see, I'm good, very good with my mouth..."

A girl had spoken these words, with a truly lovely voice. So little she stood in her grace as she looked up to me with big dark eyes full of tragedy and long dark hair full of a lost innocence that she seemed to cling to. What a pristine figure! She must have fabulous feet!

I dared not ask her how young she was. Her face looked immorally pure! She wore little flowers in her hair. She kept looking at me in silence, perhaps a ghost wearing her pale night-gown, barefoot as she stood near the door to a small house. I nodded as my eyes met her feet. My cock went hard.

"For one ruble, young lady, will you spend the night with me? What's your name, little angel?"

"Magda."

***

It was an empty house. Whoever was there was fast asleep. She closed the door behind us and led me to a small room where stood a large bed along with a low table covered with empty plates, tin cups and utensils. Food she'd had from clients. How many men had used her?

"I like you," Magda said, her voice like a beautiful spring in the room's gloomy silence and half-darkness. "I only take clients I like. My parents have fled. I hid until they had no choice but to flee. They never really liked me. My mother's an ugly hag; she was always jealous of my beauty. Father wanted to keep looking for me, but Mother's the one in charge, so they left. And now I have to make a living. I'm pretty."

As she spoke those last two words, she slowly spun around, showing me each side of her; she had a thin belt that flattered her slim curves. From top to bottom, she was as lovely a maiden one could dream of. The pale flowers in her hair made sure she looked like a virgin peach. My eyes were hypnotized by her bare feet as she whirled and danced on a dark rug. Her little hands seemed to hold the destiny of men. My money came right out.

I gave her one ruble and took her in my arms, very gently. I quietly put her head on my chest and began to stroke her hair, even more gently. She was the loveliest girl I had held in my arms since Nastya. I kept stroking her hair, tears in my eyes as the reality hit me again. Nastya was dead. And this girl could very well be dead as well. And yet her little body was all warm and comforting against me. And my manhood was throbbing at the thought of penetrating her! I knew that her buttocks would be truly white and a heaven to touch and kiss, that I'd be as hard as a conquering Turk inside her!

"For one ruble, you can fuck me all you like, Captain Sir. What do you want me to do, Sir? Do you want me to go down on my knees now?"

"I... I'm so sad! About all this war. All this nonsense! I... I just want to love you. Magda. That's a very beautiful name!"

She remained silent as I stooped down and began to kiss her shoulder as I lowered the wide collar of her gown. This was the shoulder of a girl, not a woman's. Dainty! I felt so ashamed to be lusting after her! And yet I knew that the ejaculation would be a biblical one, due to this very immorality. She was worth a thousand rubles! More! I covered her head with kisses, going mad with love. Her breathing was deepening, she was probably simulating arousal, but she did it well. Her scent was impossible to describe with words! She was paradise! I wanted to touch her breasts through her gown, but I didn't dare go ahead. I felt too ashamed, for I felt so old and she so young!

"Why are you so shy, Sir? Go ahead! I won't bite! You're so different from the others! Anyone of them would already be fucking me like a braying donkey, but not you! You take your time, you're very gentle. I really like you! Now please, suck my tits, I'd love this from you! You're so gentle! Yes, touch me, daddy!"

From the moment my hand softly cupped her left breast through her thin gown, my world changed. She felt timeless. She was a ghost. A maiden from bygone years! I kept caressing her breasts for the longest time, feeling the depth of her breathing, her heart beats... She was a ghost; the most adorable of all! I kept petting her bosom and let the anticipation build up; the anticipation of letting those little castles of girly fat come into sight, with her budding nipples that would look back at me and wait for my love.

I unlaced and lowered her gown's collar and uttered a loud grunt as I saw the mirage of her! Her breasts! Small nipples of dark raspberries in the golden heat from a quiet lamp! She was. Even more beautiful than I had anticipated! I was painfully hard down there! I was going to fuck her long and good! I plunged and began to kiss and kiss and lick and suck this youth from her! My tongue against her nipples! It was surreal! This was never supposed to happen.

I especially loved getting lost in the valley between her small castles of flesh. She was ungodly soft! Her skin! While her little fingers kept running through my thinning hair.

"I love the way you do this, Daddy! Ohh, so gentle! Ooh yes! Yes! Please strip me naked, Daddy! Strip me naked and use me! My heart belongs to Daddy!"

What followed was a dream where I fucked and kept fucking this dream of a girl until the morning. The debauchery would remain like the fading recollection of a dream too wonderful to reach again, with a girl too pretty to be ever reached again.

Shame would always assault me as I recalled how I kissed her feet, and then how I hastily stripped myself naked and let my stiff cock meet the soft tenderness of her dainty feet. Oh, Magda! So graceful in her nakedness, with the most delicate triangle of dark vulva hair! With legs only rivaled by Sümeyye, but my wife is pale olive while Magda is as white as death.

In this eternal present of my dreams, I'm now holding Magda's butt between my hands, and she's moaning, pretty and maiden-like in her nakedness as I enjoy the entry inside her while she's on all fours and the dark mass of her hair makes her backside even whiter! with a sensual tinge of gold under the bed-room lamp!

I scream with bliss as I feel her pussy around me! Tight! I'm raping her! Raping this small girl and it's so wonderful! Her butt looks pleasantly vast, surprisingly so as the slender girl keeps moaning under my fierce assaults and the scent from her intimacy reaches my nostrils as I keep pounding her!

I soon scream even louder as my whole body becomes weightless and I dump a gigantic load inside her!

"Yes, Daddy! I love how you fill me up!"

And while I ejaculate inside this maiden, I'm filled with guilt.

To be continued

[HistBuff]

Chapter 20: A Victorious Summer


Captain Sidorov's Thoughts

I woke up alone at the sound of the army drums. There was no sign of little Magda. Maybe she had already risen and was preparing breakfast? But when I cleared the cobwebs of my slumber and saw the heavy population of spiders and cobwebs where the walls meet the ceiling, I noticed I was in an empty house that had not been lived in in years. Magda wasn't to be found anywhere, and there was nothing to make breakfast with. I found my silver ruble on the coffee table near the bed; with the portrait of the now-dead Czar on it.

And yet my legs were still filled with a pleasant sensation that told me plainly that my time with Magda had been more than a dream.

Outside I met townsmen to whom I inquired about Magda and whoever lived in that small house. They all seemed too busy to answer. A newspaper-boy finally answered me...

"You must have dreamed, Captain Sir! Not that I want to mock you, Sir, but the only Magda I've known to live in this house was a very ancient woman by that name."

"Was? Ancient?! But she's just about your age, sonny!"

"Old Magda she was. A kind-hearted woman, living there alone, who sometimes treated me to some hot coffee, that is, until she died two years ago. She must have been a hundred years old! I miss her... You know, she was such a kind-hearted girl..."

"A hundred years old?!"

"Yes, there's a late picture of her in the hall, if you'd like to look, Sir. And another photo of her when she was younger. Nobody's lived there ever since!"

The boy left me and carried out his news-announcement duty further down the street. The headlines said that the White Army kept beating the Reds back to the west. I had no doubt that we would celebrate Christmas in Moscow and restore the Czar monarchy next year.

I returned inside the empty house and soon found some dust-covered pictures in the hall, on an antique shelf of dark wood that was covered with more dust and stuck in cobwebs. Once I cleared the dust, I saw the picture of an ancient woman whose face had been so stricken by the passing years that it was left devoid of any youth and grace, and yet she still had a lot of dark hair. The second picture, however, showed a woman who was young and beautiful, in her thirties or late twenties, wearing a dress that seemed to be from the middle of the last century!



I looked intently into the younger woman's eyes. Same dark hair, same dark eyes. Magda! It was her all right. Short and slim, and rich as part of a fallen society. I knew that having met her when she was fresh out of her child years was physically impossible, but so many weird things had happened as of late that I felt anything could be. Just me wearing the uniform of a White-Army officer was an impossibility that had somehow materialized. The lingering bliss I felt down my legs was proof enough I was with her last night.

I took the picture with me and I was about to leave the empty house when I heard a spring-beauty of a voice...

"Don't even think about it! Leave my picture here, Daddy!"

I put the picture back on the dust-covered ledge and fled the haunted house. And yet the notion of an erotic encounter with young Magda positively fascinated me. I felt sad knowing there wouldn't be a second time. I knew I would nonetheless return to this house, hoping for a second night with Magda. Knowing this would not be.

My empty stomach called me back to my soldierly duties. Since I still had my Captain's uniform and insignia, I ate breakfast at an inn that was occupied by the White Army and had organically become the place where all officers ate their meals.

While eating pirojkis and drinking chai flavoured with vodka, I learned that the Admiral had already left and was on his way to Omsk, along with his newfound girl, the raven-haired Baroness. And where was Countess Hendrikoff? I felt heavy guilt upon remembering the horrible things I had done and caused to be done to both of these fine ladies. I remembered seeing Tamara's cat and was happy she still had her companion.

"Yes, Baroness Tamara ... from Latvia. I've heard of her. I think she's only nineteen, but I daresay she looks even younger!" I told my breakfasting neighbour, while my recollections of my time with her at the train station in Tyumen caused some stiffness in me under the table.

"Yeah, only nineteen! And the Admiral is almost forty-five!" he said, a Captain in his late thirties, with an expression showing he'd love to be in the Admiral's shoes.

"Wouldn't you do the same, Sir? If you had the chance?" replied a young Lieutenant.

"Of course I'd take her! Her or this Countess Hendrikoff!" the Captain replied, drinking his chai and looking inside it as if a naked Tamara would spring out of it any moment to grant him his wish.

"What about her?" I inquired. "Do you know where the Countess is?"

"She's on her way to Omsk as well," the young Lieutenant said. "The Countess and the Baroness are inseparable. They were with the Czar and his family, and it doesn't take a genius to guess what those awful pigs did to them when they were under the Red Army's custody!"

"I bet that those guards also took the Czar's daughters! All four sisters! Without shame!" the Captain spat out, finishing his cup of chai and pouring himself some vodka.

"Don't say such a profanity, Igor! Don't you say this!" a fellow Captain intervened. "God wouldn't have allowed such a sacrilege! The Grand Duchesses are inviolate!"

"Were inviolate", I said. "Didn't you hear? They've all been shot and bayoneted."

"Who do you think you are?" replied the fellow Captain, a thin man wearing a moustache that looked like he tried his best to look like the late Czar. "Look at how you eat! Look how low you carry your pistol! A peasant!"

I stood up and called him on his snobbish words, that if he cares to back his words with his own pistol against mine, but then someone imposed a hand on my shoulder. I turned and recognized the long-faced Colonel who had sat at the court martial, and whose eyes never left Tamara when he did.

"Now, gentlemen!" the Colonel bellowed. "Must I remind you that dueling is strictly forbidden? And besides, we're tragically short in officers. In fact, I'm looking for a brigade major myself! Damned Red snipers! Now, both of you, shake hands and forget all this nonsense."

I was the first to shake hands with the fellow Captain, whose eyes told me he still held a grudge while he swiftly took his hand away. Then the long-face Colonel pulled me apart and led me to a table in the corner of the dining room, as a group of junior officers promptly made way for us. As soon as we were seated with a bottle of vodka between us, my new superior spoke in Czech:

"I'm Colonel Krawkovski, and I command the 2nd Brigade of the 2nd Division of the Czech Legion. I like the way you pleaded for those thirteen poor devils who got flogged for doing what any of us would gladly do with this lovely little Baroness. You're the man I want! If you want, you'll be my brigade Major. Now, what do you say?"

"Well, if it's all right with the Admiral I..."

"The Admiral is gone, and whatever he thinks of you, he has no say as to what happens to the officers in the Czech Legion, and where would he be without us, eh? So it's settled! Major S... Sidorov? Yes, Major Sidorov, to you're good health! Na zdraví!"

"Na zdraví!" I replied, still astonished at my newfound knowledge of Czech.

And on this, we emptied our cups and poured ourselves some more for the road. For the Brigade was moving up to the west to-night. Of any orders about my demotion to Feldfebel, I heard nothing, nor did anyone else. I no doubt owed this to Tamara and the effect she had on the Admiral, who must have had forgotten all about it after a night with the Latvian Baroness. My demotion must have been a dream that had vanished with day-light.

When the skyline was fiery orange with drunk-looking clouds, I left Yekaterinburg with my new brigade. I had arrived there as a Red-Army Captain. I left it as an Imperial Army Major. I had some devilish baraka!

I was quite busy for the next weeks as we kept beating back the Bolsheviks toward Moscow. We all felt so close to victory as we kept advancing through the forest-covered mountains of Ural. More mountains, more hills, then farmlands and villages in some valleys, then more hills.

As the Soviets retreated, they left villages with only old men and women whose clothes were a patch-work of put-back-together dresses that had been torn when they were gang-raped. There was no more life in their eyes.

Whenever a village was re-taken, the local folks would have some Red prisoners to give us, especially when our advance was swift and the Bolsheviks had to scramble away. There were nearly always some female Soviet partisans in the lot; and we would find those young women in a most pitiful state as they had all been publicly stripped naked and humiliated, then gang-raped by angry boys and old village men. They were fortunate that the local men were either dead or gone to fight.

Nonetheless, the Colonel would have these women seized for questioning. That's when he and I would select the prettier ones for ourselves and our officers. The Colonel preferred blondes, I had a thing for the dark-haired ones. Raping eventually gets dry. The fun of it dies off and it becomes just as mechanical as half-hearted masturbation.

Once, we took a small town, and some twenty girls wearing the hated dark khaki uniform fell in our hands. I happened to be close enough to use the binoculars and watch their initial gang-rape at the hands of our forward-most company of Czechs, joined by some local old men. They handled the ladies such a grim happening that I knew there wouldn't be any fun left for us gentlemen.

"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed a British Major standing beside me as he looked at the far scene with his own binoculars. I could see the poor girls waving their arms amid the angry crowd of uniformed young fellows and local old men who smiled at them like horny devils! It was getting hard to see much, but this was a bright afternoon in early September.

Those Soviet dark tunics got opened wide as their tits were made to spring to life under the sun! Free-moving! Now buried under hands! The wind carried faint screams. Now there was nothing to see as the men were pressing themselves on the Bolshevik girls, who were no doubt getting stripped out of their uniforms and then stretched on the dusty street to receive their legion of suitors, young and old.

The Major from England took off running toward the village! He wanted to partake. I understood. He was new to this fox-hunting sport, just as I was new to his language. I just returned to my tent and grabbed some vodka offered by my orderly. Rape. I was so tired of it! If only my orderly was a girl! A girl with whom I could share something secret and forbidden. I knew that a few officers didn't mind genders and nonetheless fucked their orderly, but I wasn't into such things. My orderly was somewhat Mongol with jet-black hair and beautiful golden skin. Bilguun was his name. He would have been very pretty had he been a girl!

This Major was part of a British contingent that had joined us the month before. Their officers kept complaining about the lingering summer heat, about their wives being left in England, about silly orders not to bring them here. Silly men! Didn't they understand that at the first set-back their own men would mutiny against them to get a pass at their wives?

The Brigadier in command of this British force had two orderlies who looked quite young with a slight build. I suspected the sick old bastard was secretly keeping love boys for himself. He had a large head of red hair that made him look just as comical as his name; something like Mac Donahue or Mac Donaldy, I can't remember. He and his officers are snobbish and he acts as if he's the Division commander, although our Colonel, as Brigade commander, is on equal terms in the chain of command.

The English Brigadier and his officers have no knowledge of the terrain and don't speak a word of Russian, let alone Czech. I was once in our Division command tent, where our Lieutenant-General simply looked at the red-haired Brigadier and pointed on the map to show him where he wanted the British brigade to be---out of the way!

The village we had just captured with its surrounding region was a large one called Belyyfontan, meaning White Fountain.

I eventually went to the captured town, be it out of boredom. Staying behind the fighting with my long-face Colonel was generally safe, but getting boring.

By the time I arrived at the scene, the Soviet girls were utterly used up with shreds of their torn uniforms unable to hide their modesty. Every single one of them was terrified and utterly exhausted. I saw one with jet-black hair, but failed to get aroused, as I found nothing erotic in this too-familiar sight. I swiftly made for that shamed part of the camp where some female followers offered carnal services for a modest sum, but there was already plenty of lined-up of soldiers there! And besides, I was a busy man. As the brigade major, I was the chief of staff and had to make sure the men were properly deployed and supplied as we needed to move further west and secure a proper perimeter around the small town.

There was chaos! Two attack planes went into strafing duty on our men! I took shots at one of these planes as they motored away, but it was way too far and I was out of luck.

I found the British soldiers in town, searching each house for "Soviet spies". Nearly every house was filled with female screams as the English soldiers, perhaps frustrated for having been kept out of the fighting, perhaps only cowards who hated themselves, eased up their pent-up steam at the expense of housewives and daughters who had wrongly thought themselves safe now that the Bolsheviks had been driven out.

They were constantly chanting and calling them names as they had their way with those girls. I barely understand anything they said. I only understood the cries and the begging from the Russian girls being raped by the brave King's men.

As for our own Czechs, they were raping half the town in their own right, and there would be no stopping them. Fortunately, the Soviets had fled.

In the plaza at the town's heart, the twenty-odd Soviet girls were still held on the ground and being raped by dozens upon dozens of troops and old men, and boys too. Boys from the town who perhaps felt more curious than angry, perhaps wishing to lose their virginity on their eighteenth birthday. Drummer boys from our own ranks as well.

One of the Soviet girls was about twenty-five. Her wide-open shirt had a collars with a pair of red squares that said she was a Captain. She was naked from the waist down, held down spread-eagled by a pack of old men and young soldiers. One man had just got out of her while an old man feverishly laid down upon her, while most of the men kept masturbating as they waited for their turn to rape the Soviet officer.

They kept calling her a Red whore and a cheap Soviet bitch and listened to her whimpers, as the old man grunted into her pretty face and told her he was going to dump a massive one inside her. She had quite a beautiful pair of tits and a majestic mass off loose golden hair, freed from its military strings that had kept those threads disciplined in stern style under her garrison cap, which now lay in the dust. I was bored with those scenes, bored to death, even though I had not had a woman in over a month.

"Did you try her from behind?" I asked a smiling Sergeant who was busy masturbating in his attempt to revive his spent manhood."

"Uh, un... No Sir! We've been so busy teaching them a lesson that we didn't think much about how. But it's good to fuck one of their officers!"

"Well, I'll show you, Sergeant!"

And as soon as the old man was done with dumping his load inside the lovely Captain while torturing her ears with his granpa's groan, the Sergeant helped me in turning her around while I threw her shirt off her and away, and a Corporal picked it up and brandished it as a trophy.

"WOU-WOU-WOU-WOU WOU WOU! Some ass!" the men shouted in Russian and in Czech alike.

Indeed, she had a curvy ass that made my cock suddenly hungry.

Once the Red bitch was naked on all fours, her face in the street's dirt, her hair a golden carpet on the dirt, I kissed her butt and furthered my painfully hard status, before I freed the beast by dropping my pants and I screamed as I thundered inside her, then I basked in my basest instincts amid the men's jeers, chants and catcalls.

I raped the Soviet blonde while thinking of Countess Hendrikoff when she was brought up on the Russ' deck and unceremonially gang-raped after being stripped out of her fashionable dress, first by myself and the higher-ranked men, then by the rank-and-file along with the other young ladies of the Grand Duchesses' retinue, while Tatiana and Olga were being gang-raped themselves in their cabin and while I dared not thing about Nastya, the Merry Little and the youngest One.

My mind was frought with confusion as I forcefully ejaculated inside the Soviet Captain, barely aware of her enduring whimpers and even little aware of her superbly soft curves, as I emptied my balls while thinking of a Grand Duchess's youth and Countess Hendrikoff and Tamara's lovely little youth and feet in a maelstrom of sensuality as I so powerfully erupted inside the captive officer that I screamed out of sheer bliss.

I then had some vodka poured on the blonde's ass and proceeded to lick the strong liquor off her lovely skin, where her dark khaki trousers used to polish that skin where she used to sit with authority. The men congratulated me for being a stylish rapist as they remembered how I had raped the Mayor's youngest daughter in Yekaterinburg.

I stood back up and watched the men take their turns as the unfortunate officer took the endless punishment with her face in the dirt while more vodka was poured on her. Old men lost frothing slobber under astonished eyes as ther jaw trembled out of unspoken bliss. A drummer boy yelled loud as he looked up at the serene sky and lost his virginity inside the enemy Captain. A Corporal was absolutely brutal. Another one was gentle and said he was sorry but he couldn't help himself.

We were just as much prisoners as she was. The prisoners of war. At least, my beloved Sümeyye was safe in Saint Petersburg.

***

Sümeyye Sidorov's secret journal (written in Turkish)

Petrograd, July 10th 1918

What just happened cannot be conveyed in words. Even when the city went in unrest, I had no sense of the danger me and my sister Sibil were in. Things are hard here in Petrograd. Everybody is starving. No electricity. The daily ration of bread has been dropped to just 50 grams last April, but I enjoy more as an officer's wife, so yes, Sibil is more than happy to be living along with me. Hopefully there will be a way to get coal for heating before next winter.

There was a way. I'm thirty and my body says I'm still twenty. Sibil is a fortune-teller offering extra services to men, in exchange for food and money. Food is more precious.

I became part of my sister's extra services so we could hoard some provisions to trade against coal for heating in case the electricity remains unavailable next winter. The government officials offer a numerous pool of customers.

Within a few weeks, we made a name for ourselves as the "sweet-tongued sisters". We would both kneel at our customer's feet and lick his cock, both our tongues at the same time. For an extra fee, I would strip myself naked, only I. Sibel would hide the revolver under her clothes, just in case, for there's an element of danger in this business. And this danger had me aroused to a surprising degree.

I felt thrilled each time I licked a stranger's branch while feeling his caressing hand on my hair as he kept complimenting me on my dark Turkish beauty. Two times out of three, he would aim his load on my face or on my tits while Sibil's face remained without any gloss tribute.

For a further fee, he would be allowed to suck my tits! I felt so naughty! I felt guilty for liking this so much. Ivan must never learn about this! But the money is good.

Once, a well-off father came with his virgin son... and I agreed to allow both of them to penetrate me vaginally. I took the son first. I was naked and bent over the kitchen table while the boy held my hips. There was force and confidence in the way he took me and then I knew this boy was no virgin like his father had said. Something was off.

I wanted to stop, but the boy was tall and strong and he kept a strong hold on my hips as he intensified his barrage. He was now hurting me and I cursed at him in Turkish. I saw the father holding Sibil, and she wasn't strong enough to break free and reach the hidden revolver.

"All right! Come on inside, boys!" the father shouted. And as the son emptied his sauce inside me, I heard many footsteps and realized the appartment was now crowded with men!

"Nooo! Lemme go... Nooo not this again!" Sibil cried in our Turkish. That's when I knew for sure that my young sister had already been raped once and that was how she had become pregnant. And now it was my turn. And hers too, again.

It lasted the whole night. They ripped my best dress, the bastards! Ripped it off me while saying I was about twenty-two years old. They made us both stand side by side, me and Sibil, naked, and compared our physical attributes, like people appraising meat at the market.

By the living Czar, what happened next is a nightmare that I keep trying to forget, and the more I try, the more I remember every little minute detail of it.

A boy with pimples in his face, with the eyes of an angel and delicate brown hair. They're encouraging him as he climbs on me. It's him! The newspaper boy! They have taken me to the bedroom while I hear others ordering Sibil to "suck this revolver". I try to move, but all my limbs are restrained to the bed, men keep caressing me everywhere, even my wrists and ankles where I keep struggling while the boy is attempting to penetrate me. I can tell this one's a virgin and feel some morbid sense of pride knowing that this handsome newspaper boy finds me erotic.

Yes he does. He does succeed in penetrating me. As he does, I forget the men who just raped me. My body even wants to wrap my legs around the boy, but my ankles are painfully restrained on the creaking bed as the boy's panting bathes my face while others keep caressing my hair where my head keeps gently bobbing under his repeated thrusts, as he soon passes his edge and screams as I receive his tribute...

"AAAAAAAAAAAYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!"

Then a long succession of men also take their turn, their face awfully close to mine. Most take this opportunity to kiss me. I know some of them. A neighbour in his forties who says he's always dreamed of this, shortly before growling like a sick bear. The local butcher with his thick stinking beard has also come and now comes inside me, after gleefully sucking my breasts and saying they're even prettier as he imagined. Then his young assistant takes me while sobbing and saying he's doing an awful thing, and then accelerates into a frenzy while his cock rubs me in a way that forces me to explode and orgasm in his arms, in their arms, as he ejaculates while calling me his Turkish delight.

And as they keep playing with my body, I clearly hear Sibil's long-enduring whimpers and the kitchen table's creaking where they rape her ad nauseam.

The gray morning found us naked, covered with dry sperm and crying together.

The last man's leaving. "Thank you, damsels! It was a pleasing visit. Don't you worry, we'll bring you food tomorrow when we come back. Your asses for food."

Indeed, I soon find that they've eaten or taken all our food! And taken my husband's revolver.

TO BE CONTINUED

[Blue]

@HistBuff
An interesting continuation. Especially towards the end, when Sümeyye Sidorov and her sister also enter the picture and are ultimately subjected to repeated rape.

Is this the punishment they deserve for their husband's actions?

[HistBuff]

@HistBuff
An interesting continuation. Especially towards the end, when Sümeyye Sidorov and her sister also enter the picture and are ultimately subjected to repeated rape.

Is this the punishment they deserve for their husband's actions?

Thanks @Blue! I didn't know what to do with this story, because when you kill such important characters as the Grand Duchesses, it creates a void in the story. However, Ivan Sidorov is actually the main character, and as long as he's there, his career as a rapist can go on. He even gets promoted! This is a kind of story where rapists get rewarded.

[pelayos1408]

The Romanovs are already dead and buried, but HIStbuff still have ideas.

[HistBuff]

The Romanovs are already dead and buried, but HIStbuff still have ideas.

Thanks, @pelayos1408!

Next chapter coming up! I can't copy-paste it directly from AO3 and need to age up a couple of characters since I'm proudly one of "those sorts of writers"

[HistBuff]

Chapter 21: Peace, Land, and Bread!

Major Sidorov's Thoughts...

Something happened to our British friends after we captured that small valley town in the Urals. They decided they were fine and dandy in this town and wouldn't leave. What's more, it was heard that one of their scout officers had stumbled into an ancient mansion from the 18th century, green with ivy in the middle of the forest, about 10 verstes north of the town, and the red-haired Brigadier had moved there along with his highest-ranking officers.

I didn't hear much afterwards as we advanced onward, and our Division General was happy with the British staying behind and out of the way. Bilguun my orderly kept my boots shiny while I kept my Nagant clean and my shooting skills sharp by practicing fast-draw every morning.

Our advance had now come to a screeching halt by the time the birches began to show bright golden leaves amid the dark pines. It seemed that for every Red battalion we defeated, two more materialized in its place. We weren't facing an army. We were facing a hydra! Where did they find all these men? And they had modern equipment too. Once, we captured a position among this hilly forest country and found a machine-gun of a new model that we had never seen before! Where did they find the money for this?

It was dawning on me that time was working against us, that the enemy had some support from a hidden, powerful ally; that this war was bigger than just Russia. It was the old monarchies against the novel idea that the people shall govern themselves. The ignorant people who don't even know what's good for them!

We also had a supply problem. It seemed that those British boys behind us were keeping a little too much supplies for themselves.

As the brigade major, this was my problem. I was sent back by the Colonel to Belyyfontan, with the mission to see to it that our supplies reached our boys on the front line.

I had an idea of what was going on and arrived at the town with an elite half company of Czech hunters, each of whom an ace rifleman who could hit a silver ruble from 200 yards.

When I arrived at the depot with the half company's First Lieutenant, we were kindly welcomed by a jovial Major who seemed to have a belly-full of food from our own supplies. This pudding-face bugger had the nerve to complain about the food not being as good as "back home in England". When I asked to see the Brigadier, he coughed and said that "General McDonough cannot be seen as he's ill as of now, and until further notice".

The Major's kindness was but a facade, and his men and officers were looking at us with a mocking smile. A smile they quickly lost when the Major was shot by a sniper later that day. Shot through his pudding belly, and it was said that he lost as much blood as a dying elephant.

The Brigadier suddenly materialized downtown. He sent men "to hunt down those buggers like foxes", but his boys had no real knowledge of the terrain, while we did. Me and my hunters, we hid in the woods around the town and the nearby farms. No British soldier dared go out of town. Each tree, each bush could hide a Czech sniper. Only one group of scouts gave us some trouble, and at the end of a skirmish, I shot and captured their officer, who should count himself lucky; I had shot him in the belly and narrowly missed his liver.

He was sent back on a stretcher, on his way to their doctor, who was at the mansion up north in the forest for some reason, and the poor devil died of his festering wound during the night. The doctor arrived only in the morning. Before he died, the scout Captain delivered a message to the Brigadier-- We will shoot one of your officers every day that our supplies get stalled.

The red-haired Brigadier went into a fiery white rage! I conveyed him to a meeting at the edge of the woods, as I knew his men would capture me and my escort if I went to see him in town. So we met outdoors, with some of my hunters hidden in bushes. And some of his as well.

The General was red with anger. "I'm going to complain to your higher-ups! You're gonna be court-martialed and executed!" he bellowed.

"Go right ahead and complain, Sir! All I'm asking is for the supplies to reach the front line as they should. I knew you wouldn't budge unless there were some heavy consequences for you, Sir, so I obeyed my Colonel and did whatever was necessary to get those supplies moving. I'm the brigade major and I'm just doing my job, Sir! None of this would have happened if you were reasonable."

His large head of red hair nearly caught fire as the interpreter translated my Czech words to his Scottish face. Then he looked down at the ferns and the grass, knowing there was nothing he could do.

Two days later, the supplies were on their way to our boys holding the front line. But we had to leave the hunters around the town as a deterrent, and these were as many snipers we could no longer deploy against the Bolsheviks. Damned be those British!

Ten verstes to the north, I stumbled into that ancient mansion I had heard about. It was green with ivy and thus impossible to spot unless you were right there. It was also guarded by English soldiers who immediately shot at us on sight! And we vanished into the forest.

Later, I returned to the forest mansion along with First Lieutenant Jakub Černý, who had very black hair and was a likely descendant of some Ottoman soldier who had forced himself upon a Czech girl some centuries ago. As we carefully approached the guarded place, we heard music and rejoicing. Someone was playing the piano; we could hear the low notes, then the mid-range notes, and finally the highest ones as we made our approach until we reached the edge of the forest.

It was late dusk. The clouds were dark with a debauchery of crimsons out in the west, as if these grand clouds were ruddy angels watching over the soirée given by the British officers. I took a look through my binoculars. I could plainly see inside as the old granite mansion was well lighted within. Officers in their best uniform were dancing with... young ladies?!

"I'll be damned!" Jakub Černý ejaculated as he looked through his own binoculars.

"Hey! Who's there!" called one of the sentries, who had heard the First Lieutenant. So we made a quick retreat, but we had seen enough to add two and two together.

Once we were safe on a forest trail, we had a quick, but important conversation.

"Did you see this, Lieutenant? Their General was there!"

"Yes, Sir. His big head of red hair is unmistakable, and he was dancing with a nun! A nun without her wimple who looks like a golden-haired angel! That's the one I'll take when we'll storm the place to-morrow evening!"

"To-night, you mean!"

"To-night?! But, Sir! The men are tired and..."

"They won't be tired at all when they'll hear about the booty they're gonna get, Lieutenant, and this General needs to be taught a lesson, because he's clearly still keeping some luxuries for him and a select club of officers. And the sentry must have reported having heard someone. No, if we want to catch them by surprise, we need to return strong later that night, because tomorrow they'll probably double the guard after that sentry heard someone. By the time we gather the men and return to the place, they'll probably be asleep or having a late-night supper; they won't be expecting us. And the moon is bright to-night; even the moon wants us to succeed!"

"All right, Sir, let's go and gather the men!"

"Another thing, Lieutenant. I overheard a conversation among your men. They're on the verge of mutiny."

"Mutiny?! I don't believe it! How?"

"It's about communism. I think most of them want to change sides and become Bolsheviks. From what I heard, they're now against aristocracy and want power to the people. I'm afraid that those ideas are gaining traction throughout the entire Division, especially since our advance has grounded to a halt. As you know, they now have planes dropping leaflets of propaganda printed in Czech."

"Let me speak to them, Major! I know them and..."

"I'm afraid it's too late for this. They're probably planning to kill us both, but sacking this mansion and raping the women will buy us time, and to-morrow we can flee, or rather join them."

"Join them? Are you mad, Major?"

"Think about it, Lieutenant. If we flee, whereto? Downtown, the British troops will capture and execute us. Rejoining our brigade? What if the entire brigade mutinies? They're going to, I feel it. Going back east to Yekaterinburg? We'll be shot as deserters. No, we have no choice but join our men in defection to the Red Army."

"Never! You're a traitor!"

As he spoke, the young officer rose his rifle toward me, but I was upon him. It was a silent fight where my taller, larger frame, added to my long experience of trench warfare, prevailed. I ended up sadly strangling this poor young soul. Such a pity to kill such a fine marksman, but it had to be done, alas! He was too young and too idealist to understand life. I felt it in my bones that the wind was turning, and if I wanted to ever see my wife again, I had to be on the winning side of this war.

I felt so ashamed to become such a turncoat! Why not die with honour? But I preferred to live. Especially when there were young ladies nearby to forcibly fuck. Rape! We were going to surprise attack this mansion, overpower the men and then rape their women. Just the thought of it made me as hard as a breeding bull!

Leaving the fresh corpse for to-morrow's crows, I made my way to our bivouac. If my plan worked, I'd be back in the Bolshevik ranks and thus able to soon go see my wife, and perhaps get a transfer to an office job near her. Everything important I did seemed to have a woman at the bottom of it. I could even kill just to kiss Sümeyye again!

"Where's Jakub?" the First Sergeant inquired when I got to our well-hidden bivouac. First Sergeant Novák was one of the men whom I had overheard speaking openly about defecting to the Bolsheviks. I still felt it was better to be cautious.

"He's stayed up there, watching the mansion," I replied.

"The mansion? What mansion?"

I then told him about the antique mansion where the British Brigadier and his select club of fancy officers were having a soirée with well-dressed young women.

"Is this a joke? How on earth could there be women up there?" he asked. I could see the lust in his eyes. He wanted to believe it was true. He at least was willing to go up there and see for himself.

"Gather the men, Sergeant! To-night we're having a fiesta!"

"Aye aye, Sir!"

***

The hunters were so eager to see if my story was true that they didn't become alarmed when there was no sign of their officer. We stealthily encircled the mansion, with military efficiency augmented by the prospect of a high reward. Using my binoculars, I estimated there was about four or five sentries, smoking cigarettes where the burning tip clearly showed us their positions. Our stealthiest men moved up on them and silently cut their throats.

When the Corporal leading them imitated the call of an owl, we rushed at the mansion, all fifty of us! The women screamed when we stormed the place. The British officers looked at us as if we were ghosts, their features lit up with clear annoyance upon being interrupted near the end of their ball, when their pleasure with the ladies was close at hand. Fine dishes had been laid out on a large table for a supper that we just invited ourselves to. Only the Brigadier kept his composure.

"What is the meaning of this?" the indignant General asked, his head looking as if it was about to burst in rage, like a red-haired bomb. "What is the meaning of this? I have friends in the Horse Guards!" he bellowed in an English I half understood.

"Peace, Land, and Bread!" I yelled in Russian as I shot the Brigadier through the heart with my Nagant. The women filled the ball-room with shrieks! The English officers stood in stupor like statues, some of them recognizing the Bolshevik rally cry I just used, for it was well known. First Sergeant Novák and his men had clearly heard it. They had heard it many times from enemy soldiers. I had to think fast and be quick if I didn't want to be massacred by my own soldiers.

"Peace, Land, and Bread!" I repeated aloud, then shot a Colonel who was raising his pistol at me. "Peace, Land, and Bread! Kill the men and rape the women!" I ordered at the top of my voice, this time in Czech. "Power to the people! Kill those buggers and rape their women!"

The eight or ten officers and their orderlies didn't have a chance. After a quick fight, each of them lay dead in a pool of blood and the Czech hunters had either grabbed women or were chasing the ones who had run and tried to hide.

"Bring the women here!" I commanded. "Bring them all here!"

Four women were already in our grasp. I spotted the nun with the loose golden hair. She was cursing at us in Polish. The other three were certainly noblewomen who had spent the last months hiding in this place that the British had stumbled into. What astonished me the most was that the British officers had behaved like gentlemen, judging from the women's immaculate ball-gowns and healthy demeanor. Sure enough, one of the noblewomen saw a dead Major and rushed at his body and cried a river on her departed lover.

"Get your hands off me! Lemme go, you peasants! Peasants!" one dark-haired lady barked as she was being carried in the ball-room by a heavy-set soldier who was laughing as he pushed her toward the others. She was a strikingly beautiful girl with long dark hair, her fancy ball gown speaking of a small waist and a sensual body underneath it.

"She's my take!" the heavy-set soldier bellowed as he forced-kissed her and I felt both annoyed and aroused upon seeing this encounter between the unwashed brute and this sensual young lady of fancy deportment, now trying to protest as the brute groped her ass and brute-kissed her senseless while other men restrained her wrists and groped her, especially feeling her breasts through her corset. I felt a bit annoyed upon seeing I would have to wait long if I wanted to fertilize her. She was already surrounded by a dozen riflemen!

Two more girls were being carried off from their hiding places and into the ball-room where the stench of blood from the dead officers got mixed with the girls' perfume and the caustic smoke from the gunshots that had been fired during the short-lived fight.

These two maidens looked like vestals whose shoes harbored the most gracious feet a man could fancy. One was a nun with loose dark hair. The other brunette tried to run with her feet comically stirring the air as the petite girl was being carried by jeering Czechs, her eyes exploding round as she realized she was about to be gang-raped.

"Peace, Land, and Bread! Let's take our prize!" I bellowed in Russian before repeating my words in Czech.

First Sergeant Novák nodded at me and smiled under his pitch-black mustache, and the fiesta began. Shrill protests erupted as the men began undressing the young ladies, enlarging their décolletés to bring peace, land and bread for themselves and their pleasure!

The blonde nun kept cursing in Polish as grinning men jeered at her in Czech, calling her "a lovely little Polish whore" as they brutally tore her holy white gown and soon allowed her chaste breasts to breathe some air by cutting her top using a knife and yanking a black onyx crucifix off her bosom, all this amid their jeering and her shrill protests. The sight of her delicate nipples and milk-pale areolas turned me into a monster! I rushed at her!

"Hold her still! Let her have her first Bolshevik cock!" I said strategically. The men laughed, held her right there where she stood and I fought with her writhing legs until I gained the upper hand and pushed her gown all the way up against her hips, where I caught glimpses of her pussy hair amid her shrill panic screams. "She's golden everywhere, boys! She wants our cocks! Look how her eyes are shining! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

"Let's give her the honour of the Red Army, Major!" said a young hunter as he helped the other restraining the fiercely resisting nun.

"She's a fighter! I love this!" said another.

"We gonna give her our sperm!" said a third man, this one much older with eyes lit up by lust for the young nun.

"Niie! Niie! N-Niie!!!" she screamed as she tried to keep her legs glued together. Such white thighs that were consecrated to God and made my cock painfully hard. I loved how she tried to fight us off, only delaying the inevitable and increasing my anticipation. Raping her was going to be so much fun!

Around me, it was an absolute pandemonium, watched by the ghosts of these British officers lying dead with fish eyes that were missing the show, or perhaps not. I was shocked at how fast the Czechs were undressing the ladies, their eyes drunk with the knowledge that these were aristocratic girls whose white skin spoke of days inside rich castles and palaces.

The raven-haired beauty was fighting like a tiger! She spat in the face of that heavy-set soldier whenever she broke a little free, but her eyes were mad with shame from being groped under her dress, and then she got slapped hard and the heavy-set soldier tore her dress-top open, then pressed the sides of her corset and she shrieked in pain as the busks broke free and her beige corset got wide open in front, offering the pale nougat of her under-gown against the sharp raspberry red of her torn dress, and as the soldier ripped her final undergarment with hungry hands, she cursed and spat in his face again as the maddening sight of her tits came into view! This was so erotic!

She broke down in tears while the heavy-set soldier cupped her breasts with whistling catcalls from the men and a loud grunt of victory.

"No!No please! Don't! DON'T! NNOOOOOOOOOO!" the crying beauty begged as the heavy-set soldier gleefully sucked her freed breasts! Even more erotic! For she spoke flawless Russian from St. Petersburg while her breasts were being sucked by an unwashed Czech peasant! She had run and hidden, but the war had finally caught up with her, and she was now going to be gang-fucked like she deserved. Soldiers restraining her were now stroking her jet-black hair, like she deserved. It was justice! The aristocrats had it coming! The peasants fighting to preserve the old world were fools!

The two youngsters had been urgently stripped out of their neat dresses by the horde. The ball-room lights did sensual justice to their nakedness and their white-cream complexion, and their peachy bottom. One kept calling her absent mother while a soldier was eating her virgin muff as the men forced her down on the wooden floor where they spread her legs and held her wrists where the wailing maiden formed pretty little fists of raging despair. The other maiden wasn't faring better. This one was also a brunette with long shimmering hair, a very small girl whose naked splendour got all men's attention as her captors held her on all fours and First Sergeant Novák was already kneeling behind her, trousers down, his cock standing ready to take this prize from heaven.

"Peace, Land, and Bread!" the First Sergeant hollered in Russian as he pushed himself against the flower of her sanctum and the poor girl screamed with all she had left. While the rest of the women were now naked and either screaming in the men's arms or lying there in shocked silence as they were being used as fuck dolls. At sunset, they were dancing a waltz with gentlemen officers, wearing a fancy dress with a stylish décolleté. Now they were naked war booty and their gentlemen were dead.

Turning my attention to my fighting Polish nun who kept swearing, I forced-kissed her, finding her face sweet as she suddenly went quiet, trying to protect her face from my assaults as my lips rubbed hers, and her nose wrote silent letters of protest on my face as she kept her eyes down, and I smelled her perfume as she kept her legs glued together while the men kept tearing at her God-white gown, soon removing it all and making her a naked nun. I was pleased to notice that her shoes were gone and she was barefoot.



Unable to break the seal of her legs even after slapping her several times, I gave a sharp order and a nearby table was cleared of supper dishes, and moments later, the naked nun was bent over it and pitifully wailing as we caught hold of her wrists and forced her to remain there as I feverishly unbuttoned my White Army trousers to give her my traitor's cock.

I fingered her pussy, listening to her wails and her Polish curses as I made sure she was wet, and then I speared myself inside her and listened to her shrill screams as I grabbed her waist and became her love prisoner and began to pound her, enjoying the sight and feel of her buttocks as I collided in urgent repetitions against their vast smoothness, doing so with immense elation, the golden rush of her hair offering a grand sight as the young nun was raped. By me.

"Peace, Land, and Bread!" I yelled again and again. "Peace, Land, and Bread!" as I took my pleasure and ran my hands around the contours of her butt, such pleasing curves that kept me as hard as a Turkish soldier raping a girl inside a city after long months of siege.

My legs went wobbly under me as I blissfully passed my edge.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

I was freely sweating as I left her filled with my sperm, giving a gentle tap of appreciation on her fabulous buttocks as I left my spot for the next man.

"Peace, Land, and Bread!" the Corporal screamed as he penetrated the Polish nun, who had stopped swearing and now offered a litany of whimpers as her cheek was forced to keep sliding on the tabletop, next to a small pond of milk and a capsized glass of red wine. She took the punishment with her eyes half-closed, almost like a quiet child as she whimpered on under the barrage of thrusts from the man, who soon died inside her with a beastly flourish.

A third man came and gave her a brutal pounding that soon ended with his scream of glee as he dumped his load. Then a fourth man gave her more of the same fun.

***

The raven-haired lady was now naked amid sweating soldiers who held her off the floor while the heavy-set soldier was taking his pleasure inside her. I loved how they were raping her. Exactly like the Lithuanians had gang-raped Countess Hendrikoff on the deck of the Russ that fateful night of May. Russia seemed full of beautiful aristocrats in hiding, waiting to be found, and raped like they secretly wished for.

"Peace, Land, and Bread! AAAYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRHH NOT TRUE!!!" the heavy-set soldier screamed at the top of his breath as he powerfully ejaculated inside this beauty of an aristocrat, sounding like a dying man as he smiled with his foul teeth. The sight was unbelievable!

The erotic softness of her breasts contrasted with the men's callused hands where they held her and contemplated the whiteness of her skin as the second man out of many took his delight inside her. I came closer and saw that she had a wide black carpet between her legs; fine pubic hair of silk that matched her dark eyes where she kept screaming at the ceiling as she was raped on. What a beautiful sight!

Feeling life already coming back down there, I was assaulted with lust, madness! Madness to rape! To celebrate my evil return in the Red Army, by raping aristocrats. I wanted to rape this raven-haired beauty, but there were so many Czechs pressing themselves around her that the waiting was going to be long.

I saw the youngsters. One was silent, her eyes looking up like the empty eyes of a doll as men took their turns in breaking her.

The other brunette remained on her knees and elbows as one man, after several of his comrades, finished his round of forced sex by pressing himself upon her and making sure the small girl received his sperm deep inside her womb to make a Bolshevik baby. This was a mutiny and I was leading it! I didn't ponder about what to do tomorrow. As soon as the man was done with her, First Sergeant Novák poured some vodka on her butt and nodded at me as the small girl fell into a fetal position, crying her heart out as she made the most young erotic sight. If only we could paint her picture!

So small she was, with a body that nature had designed to take loads of sperm and make babies. The young secret of life lay at my feet as I plunged upon her and began kissing her bare feet as she begged me to please spare her virginity, accusing me of not being a gentleman, saying I was evil and a brigand, while I cleaned the dirt off her toes using my tongue, firmly holding her tiny ankles, before turning mad as I kissed the holy tenderness of her soles and forced a yapping laughter out of her as I kissed a tickling spot, and then she resumed crying.

"A brigand wearing an officer's uniform!" I corrected her while kissing and caressing the priceless charms of her small feet. She looked like a virgin maiden you'd see fetching water at a spring. The most graceful nakedness a man could see, and oh! So soft to the touch! I was now wicked hard upon thinking how tight she must be! I remembered spotting her through my binoculars, at sunset, when she was fully dressed in white and dancing with a middle-aged officer in this soirée stolen from the war, when she wore a long necklace of pearls over an all-white dress that covered her bosom, unlike the others who wore a décolleté, as if wanting to show she was too young to show her cleavage. I also remembered the matching white socks she then wore with black shoes. I regretted not having partaken to her forced stripping! I would have loved to pull those white socks and set her feet free! "A lovely little tramp!" I said, while keeping her lower legs and feet under my urgent assaults.

At one point, I rubbed her feet against my cock and felt a burst of madness as I lost some preliminary fluids.

She struggled a little as I toured her little body. She looked very young, and this was perhaps exactly why I was so wicked hard! I licked her buttocks, then I sucked her small breasts with nipples that were brown and loaded with her brunette's spirit. I had no doubt that the British officers had convinced her to give them her virginity, be it by force or gentle persuasion, but her tits felt like a virgin's and tasted like heaven!

I finally penetrated her, lying on my side, in line with the softness of her butt, while she quietly sobbed, I raped her like this. I measured my strokes, immensely enjoying the tight heat inside her and the sound of her voice as she whimpered and sobbed. I tried my best to slow down the pace and last longer, but the orgasm was upon me and I was taken with spasms as my cock exploded inside her!

"She's a good fuck, isn't she, Major!" First Sergeant Novák said, before helping me back on my feet and raping her the same way, on his naked side as he took his pleasure for the second and longest time.





The fun lasted the whole night through. There were seven young ladies and about eight men for each, so they tasted a lot of Bolshevik cocks.

"Peace, Land, and Bread! And I aaahhh love the white buns of her butt-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA YEAHHH!" uttered a loud Czech rifleman as he spewed a biblical load deep inside the heart-shaped ass of a blonde, one of the elegant ladies whom I had yet to meet.

She was kissing the supper table, where soldiers had taken cold cuts and delicacies that had been meant for the now-slain gentlemen and their lovely ladies, now being raped on an empty stomach, but with a belly-full of Czech semen to properly honour their beauty. Another man advanced and took hold of her offered butt and proceeded to set her record straight using his cock; this one chose her pussy and ordered her to thank him for not raping her ass, but the sobbing lady didn't understand his grunting language.

I came close and caressed her long hair, which had a stylish braid and was loose elsewhere. I taunted her in Russian...

"Don't be sad, Milady. The peasants find you beautiful and simply want to honour you."

"Go to hell!" she uttered between clenched teeth, her beautiful face going to and fro on the tabletop along with the pounding she was taking. I noticed she still had her ankle-long shoes on, and I went under the table, where I proceeded to unlace those pretty shoes of leather encasing her feet, using the opportunity to get the silky feel of her lower legs. She left me with an air of déjà-vu. I had a feeling I had seen her somewhere, but I didn't look enough at her face.

The man above me groaned and filled her up, then there was a round of laughter and I received a drop of liquor as they poured vodka on her butt while I was down there, freeing her aristocratic feet from the social burden of her shoes, and freed her legs from the conventions of her silk socks. I became as hard as the wooden table as I saw the first of her feet. She had legs and feet to die for! I laid down under the table and became like a mad dog as I covered her dainty feet with slobber and kisses upon kisses, while the men commented on how pale and vast her buttocks were, laughing at her sobs as they fucked her on.

After a long while, after another man had taken his pleasure inside her while I adored her feet, I became curious as to where I could have seen this blonde lady. I emerged out of the table and took a good look at her face. Yes, her features made me think of someone I had seen a few years ago. Since nobody was using her, I turned her around and came face to face with the naked aristocrat and the ruined splendour of her breasts! She had a blonde angel's pair of tits with pale nipples, tits smooth and pure white, gracefully beautiful! Just gently pushed out with a nuance of pale rose in her nipples!

"Milady, you have wonderful tits!" I said as I kissed them and felt how their softness yielded against my nose. I conquered them with pressing hands while she told me to go to hell and tried to spit in my face, but I was out of reach and tried to make time stop as I enjoyed this fleeting moment when her nipples gently pushed inside the palms of my hands. Looking down the violoncello curves of her body, I learned that her carpet was just as golden as her hair and felt ready to outrage her dignity. So I dropped my dirty trousers and pushed myself inside her!

"Bastard!" she said in her flawless Russian from St. Petersburg as I began raping her, propping her legs up and taking advantage of her submissive exhaustion to use her in this favourite position, where her bare feet hoovered near my face where I admired the sensual beauty of her legs while feeling the firm grip of her vagina. I pushed deeper and felt the all-conquering sensation to be inside one of their women! Perhaps she was a Countess.

1914! St. Petersburg! A large parade under a blue sky on a warm day of August. Yes, it was her! The daughter of a Prince I had forgotten the name of. She was there, looking at us peasants with nothing but scorn in her eyes. "Look at them! Peasants! They stink!" she had said just as I was marching within earshot, along with my platoon.

As I raped her on that table, her sensual feet near my face and her legs bent in a debauchery of noble skin, my mind's eye saw her again as she stood among a group of dignitaries, just as she was on that hot day of August, fully dressed in aquamarine, a dress that probably matched the colour of her eyes, with a décolleté that let us see just enough cleavage to be as tantalizing as humanly possible, clad as she was in her certainty that the likes of us would never see the pale hue of her nipples, and holding a matching umbrella that protected her delicate features from the sun, while the day-bright dream of her hair played sensual notes in our desire-filled souls.

And now! Now this young milady had been stripped naked by the soldiers and I was raping her while kissing her bare feet!

I accelerated and caused her to whimper with her arms flailing about on the table as I vented out the frustration I had felt that day upon seeing this noble lady I could never hope to touch as a humble platoon Sergeant. But now, now I was a Major for the Red Army! And she had been caught! The golden carpet of her pussy was ours! Her pale nipples were there for us all to see, with all her cleavage wide open like a book of flesh where her breasts kept jiggling in their submissive silence, in rhythm with my furious strokes as I violently passed my edge and screamed my satisfaction! Like a banshee!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

I ejaculated inside this daughter of a Prince! Filling her with my rank-and-file sperm, and it felt so God-damned good! She was crying. Good for her! She could use more humility. Now she was the one who stank. She stank of our sperm.

Satisfied with my feat of arms, I went down on her and kissed her legs, then began licking the golden bush between her legs, avoiding her sperm-filled entrance while she begged me to please stop, without resisting however.

"How do you like this, noble lady?" said Sergeant Novák as he pulled her hair and forced her to look at him. "How do you like being raped by the men you despised?"

She didn't understand Czech, so I translated his words while I cupped her breasts, stooped down upon her bosom where I ravished her naked tits while remembering the tantalizing décolleté of aquamarine elegance that she wore on that day four years ago. I could have kneaded and sucked those pale breasts all night long, but there was a small circle of cigarette-smoking and vodka-drinking Czech hunters around me and I gave them the opportunity to give her more honour and embrace from the Czech Legion; from a unit who had mutinied in the nick of time.

The Czech hunters had enough taste to worship her feet just as much as her breasts and her heart-shaped ass.



After she had received more sperm, we took turns in sucking her tits while rubbing them with first-rate vodka that the English officers had been keeping for themselves. She was in tears, making her aquamarine eyes even more beautiful, and I kissed her eyes and said "I love you, Milady!" before forcing her to drink vodka while we made her stand and the heavy-set soldier began to kiss her butt with his peasant's mug giving these buns a sensual imprint.

Then we nudged her down on her knees, telling her to please don't cry, that she was beautiful and belonged to aristocracy, a class of ladies we desperately wanted to fuck, that Milady was very beautiful and we wanted to mark our territory on her. I translated everything for her in Russian so she could taste our words as well as feel our half flaccid cocks as we slapped her face with them.

It was so satisfying to slap her pretty face with our cocks!

The gentle play of her breasts gave rise to our spent cocks, and soon enough, we were masturbating like grunting macaques around her. One soldier forced himself inside her mouth and pinched her jaw so she couldn't really bite, telling her "to taste the peasantry deep inside her pretty little mouth" and I translated his words into flawless Russian from St. Petersburg, adding insult to injury as I masturbated along with the others, looking at the gentle jiggle of her blonde's tits while her mouth was full with peasantry.

"She looks even more aristocratic with that thing in her mouth! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

"Czech sperm, country churned! The cure for her snobbish ways! Aaahh yeah! What a pretty face she has to take cocks!"

"Aaaah yeahhh! Her mouth's good to fuck!"

"All of her! We take all of her! Wou-hoou!"

"Hrr hrr hrr hrrrr hrrrr... Gonna drop a big one on her!"

The man raping her mouth pulled out of her, just as bolts of semen surged left and right and landed on her lovely face, adorning her aristocratic features with a pungent tribute as she was encircled by grunting and groaning men, as we ejaculated on the stripped-naked princess, who was pulled by the hair and kept kneeling on the aquamarine vestiges of her ball gown as I gave her breasts the load of semen they truly deserved.

"UUUGHHH! SHE GOT IT!"

"AAAAGGGHH..."

"HHUUHHH! Here you are Milady!"

"Sperm from the soldierszz HHHHHHHHHHHHNNDDJJGGHHHHH..."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 've seen you in St. Petersburghhhh!" I uttered as I watched my victorious bolts of semen land on her immaculate breasts, as she recoiled in disgust, her sperm-coated face indignant, one man holding her hair as she arched her back and thus increased my pleasure by giving me her pushed-out breasts! Oh God! This was so much fun! To be on the sweet side of a revolution...

[HistBuff]

Note: Thank you readers for all the wonderful feedback! It means a lot to me. This story is posted in its original version on SexStories69 and on Archives Of Our Own (AO3).

Note: In reality, the British lost about 900 men in Russia during this war, but this story is fiction! And like in old Hollywood movies, I find ways to put women along with soldiers in a war zone. Hollywood knew how to create sexual tension and what ifs in the mind of viewers, knowing that about half the population have rape fantasies. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter of what ifs. Any resemblance to real-life persons or personalities is purely coincidental.

Also, take note that back in 1918, a Corporal was the typical squad leader, while the Sergeant was the typical platoon deputy commander, helping a young officer or a seasoned warrant officer in the task of leading 35-50 men. And being a Lance Corporal meant something more than just a pay raise.

*** *** ***

Chapter 22: The Lost Brigade

After escaping unseen, both Brigadier's orderlies had erred in the eerie forest trails all night, getting lost in a maze of trails in their attempt to reach Belyyfontan under the moonlight. The path south was far from easy. In their panic, the orderlies had lost their sense of direction. At one point, they even found they had run a circle and realized they had gone back near the dreaded mansion, where several Czech soldiers were outside taking a piss. They had almost got spotted! They could even hear the whimpers and the lamentations from the women inside.

They went back into the woods and followed the first trail, then they waited for the eastern sky to turn gray, and only then, they walked and ran south when visibility was better, although very gray with lots of bushes gently whipping their face. They went on, heart racing, panting, moving on with the nightmare of knowing that the Brigadier was dead. This should not have been allowed to happen!

They finally reached a road checkpoint after three hours of walking and stumbling in bushes. Tired and terrified of the massacre they had narrowly escaped, both companions had forgotten to put back on their helmets, which caused the Corporal in charge of the checkpoint to smile a mile wide!

Esther realized her mistake, but it was too late. She and her sister Violet were alone with no less than eight men, who now knew who they were.

"S-Sergeant! The Brigadier's dead! The mansion has been overrun by, by the enemy and..." Esther shouted, her mind too flustered to notice that the tall brute only wore two chevrons. He had a ruddy stupid-looking face, unshaved, that clearly indicated that he had no chances of ever making it to three chevrons. God would not allow such a trinity to happen.

"Whooo-hooo! Pretty little lass we have here! Christmas in October wrapped up in khaki!" the Corporal roared, his smile even widening as his piercing gaze looked for Esther's petite figure through her Private's uniform. And spotted her girly charms without fail.

"The Brigadier's dead?" said a smart-looking Lance Corporal. "Now that's some jolly good news! The old bastard had my brother flogged the other day."

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" said a soldier as he ran after both fleeing girls, along with several more men.

Esther and Violet didn't get far. It was short work for the British soldiers to overtake the exhausted girls, who both screamed in terror as they were grabbed in a field.

"So they're not boys! I knew it!" Corporal John Baxter bellowed as he took Esther's helmet from her hand while enjoying a whiff of her dark hair. "Smells good too! So the old sack-of-pudding bastard was keeping a nice little harem for himself! while we were running those forest hills without seeing a girl for weeks! Bless God the old bugger's dead! He better be dead! May he rest in his bloody pudding!"

"All right, young lady! Let's see what you're hiding under this pretty little uniform!" a soldier added.

"No, please... My uncle's dead... Please..." Esther begged as she felt hands upon her while the gross leader pressed his face and lips against hers, and her heart went racing in full-blown panic as she felt the swarm of soldierly hands upon her buttocks, her breasts, through her uniform that she realized was soon going to be ripped off, while the leader gave her a passionate kiss! A dog began barking and howling somewhere not far, while the autumn breeze sang as it caressed the tall majestic pines along with birches and their golden leaves.

Violet her younger sister remained silent as three or four men began undressing her out of her field uniform, restraining her as she silently sobbed, stricken by sordid curiosity about what it would feel like to have a man inside her. She was still a virgin. Esther was the elder sister and it was her that their uncle Chester would use whenever he felt like having full penetration. Now Chester was dead; they had heard the gunshots within the house and they were sure of it. They had narrowly escaped the overrun mansion... only to fall prey to men from their own side!

She felt the fresh morning breeze hit her suddenly bare breasts and heard the men's satisfied grunts after they crudely opened her unbuttoned field shirt; she felt their gazes on them, where the autumn breeze caused her nipples to stand. Their uncle and master forbade them to wear anything under their uniform, except when they were at that time of their month. Violet heard her elder sister's pitiful cries of begging and heard her claiming she was a virgin.

As she heard her elder sister break down while men stripped her, Violet felt it was pointless to resist. She closed her eyes and received a kiss from a roughly shaved soldier while a pair of callused hands cupped her breasts under the morning sky, where the crisp breeze gently caressed the nearby trees, giants of majesty dominating the scene where the King's men unduly heated Violet's pretty face with bad breath that reeked of gin and tobacco while they whispered how hard and stiff she made them.

A farm was nearby, where the father knew better than go near such a scene. He hurriedly told his two daughters and his wife to go down into the cellar and stay there. But his son was already outside and carefully staying hidden as he got closer. The farm boy was virgin and this was his first time seeing the breasts of a girl other than one of his sisters.

"Please, don't! Don't! I'm virgin!" Esther pleaded as the men took turns in sucking her perky tits between the khaki curtains of her wide-open shirt. They loved the erotic view and their erections pushed their trousers as they tasted how smooth her skin was, making her flushed face ruddy with shame as they gleefully did so.

"You're a bloody filthy liar, little lass and you know it as sure as the Big Ben's in London!" Corporal Baxter said and laughed. "The Brigadier was fucking her day and night!"

"A lovely little lying tramp!" said the man holding her left wrist.

"I'm sure the Brigadier's kept her warm for us!"

"Wow! Two brunettes for the price of one! What have we done right to get this?"

"It's raining cherry pies this morning!"

"Oh blimey does she taste good! I haven't had such a young pair of titties in a long spell!"



"Now boys! Get her down on her hands and knees and we do her by order of rank!" the Corporal thundered as he freed his mad cock. "The artillery is out! It's so big it must have friends in the Horse Guards! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

"By heavens we're gonna fuck this one pretty darn good! 'till Judgement Day!"

"No please! I'm virgin!"

"Stop lying, tramp!"

From where she lay down on her back, Violet heard Esther's protests, pressed as she was under the weight of a man whose mouth just engulfed one of her small breasts and he gave her the leisure to fully appreciate the difference between her uncle Chester doing this and a young man eager to rape her. She felt more confused than anything as a voice inside her said it was about time she got fucked and learned what it feels like. "But not like this! Not like this!" she heard herself shriek as she strained her arms where someone was restraining her wrists.

"No! Not like this!" she cried again, trying in vain to wrestle her wrists free while shaking her head, and she felt the awful hands pull her trousers off her hips, then off her legs and past her feet, where she realized they had taken off her field boots and were now pulling her wool socks off her sweaty feet. It felt weirdly good to feel the crisp breeze on her bare feet along with a man's hand; he was so bizarrely gentle! She could tell he loved touching her feet.

Feeling the air directly against her feet, and feeling a man's kisses on them for the very first time caused a surge of forced arousal within Violet, and the man fingering her found her wet.

"Goodness gracious!" he ejaculated. "The little mermaid is asking for it! She's as wet as a soggy fish'n'chips!"

"The little tramp! Look at her vestal's carpet! All black!"

"A little panther! How old are you, little tramp?"

"All right, I'm the first man to fuck!" said the Lance Corporal, his cock indeed like a spear as the tit-sucker Private made way for him and the Lance Corporal knelt down between Violet's legs, his trousers down while she kept vainly struggling where uniformed satyrs held her four limbs spread-eagled like the Roman number X of her ill fortune.

After immense glee where he first enjoyed the fight to violate her tight entrance while she squirmed and wailed under him, after hearing Violet's fresh cry when he forced her cunt open and began raping her, after hammering her all his content and getting whiffs of her distressed hair where she shook her bobbing head while he enjoyed the pretty sight of her crying face, and after propping himself up on his arms where he could see the jiggling of her maiden tits, the Lance Corporal felt God's delight throughout his own body and lost frothing slobber that fell upon her as he experienced a monster ejaculation!

And he uttered one beast of a loud "aaAAAAAAAAAYESS!"

As he got up to his feet, Lance Corporal John Armstrong witnessed the final flourish of his leader, where the kneeling Corporal held Esther's hips while feverishly pressing himself against the lovely vastness of Esther's buttocks, where she was being restrained on all fours by jeering men, topless with her trousers down, as she received the offering from the Corporal, his stupid face holding the shock in his eyes, under the rim of his steel helmet, as he sounded like a dying man and lost even more frothing slobber out of his groaning mouth than he lost sperm inside her. And yet it was a big load of pudding he gave Esther.

"Aaahh! I knew they weren't boys! I knew it!" Corporal Baxter bellowed as he emerged out of his bliss, finding this encounter wonderful and forgetting everything else. Russia was a dangerous place for forgetful soldiers. The white sun seemed to smile at him as he stood tall, smiling from his victory. The farm dog kept barking. The hidden farm boy lost nothing of the action.

The six or seven Privates took their turns as the horror went and lingered on.

Esther remained on her hands and knees, later on her elbows and knees, where her buttocks took and seemed to absorb the repeated buffeting strokes from the men, her girly curves rippling and shocked by their feral assaults. Esther was given the opportunity to shriek in wild pain when two succeeding soldiers plucked the flower of her anal virginity, as the Brigadier was not fond of such brown sports. Her butt curves made sure the men offered her cocks that were stiff to her satisfactory benefit. Nobody in this squad would ever forget Esther's butt!

Violet was kept flat on her back, staring absently at the passing clouds as they hammered her again, again and again, where her quickly reacting pussy had flooded itself with juices and with contractions that gave her the grim surprise of pleasing sensations while shortening the men's grunting stay inside her. She felt horrified and confused, more confused than anything upon learning too much at once. She even wrapped her legs around her customer when instructed to do so, and was rewarded by being called "the regiment's lovely fish'n'chips soggy little strumpet" while the man erupted inside her with an enormous load of pungent love. And he said that next time, she would be getting it on her face, and then proceeded to lick her face like a mad happy dog. While the dog kept barking, chained at the nearby farm house.

The farm boy was mad stiff as he looked on. That girl was poignantly pretty under the men. He especially loved it, and precummed in his farm pants, when she wrapped her legs around a soldier and crossed ankles! She had feet to die for! He felt like running right at her and ejaculating on these lovely little feet!

One by one, the common soldiers detonated inside both maidens who had been raised and educated in a bourgeois family, before their uncle Chester smuggled them into Russia as his orderlies, without even telling his own sister. The red-haired Brigadier had been governed by his own lust and was rewarded by a quick death.

For some weird reason, Violet kept thinking of her Latin declensions while her virginity was being destroyed. Rosa, rosa, rosam, rosae, rosae, rosa... "Rosae! Rosas!" she would hear herself ejaculate amid her quiet whimpers, whenever her pussy generated a stronger sensation that got her both in hell and heaven.

"Templum! Templa-aaaaaaaahhh!" the sweating girl would utter at times, under the persistent hammering of a Private all too happy to profane her templum again. This girl was worth the trouble of raping her twice.

Half of those men had partaken to the gang-rape of Soviet prisoners. The act of raping their Brigadier's special girls felt a lot more satisfying, on a very personal level. During weeks of campaigning in the Urals where they were all sex-starved, the old bastard had harbored something sweet under his own tent! And these girls had the white skin and gentle features of fashionable London maidens! How did the Brigadier manage to keep them secret for so long? How blind had they been? But the fear of superior officers had been ingrained in their skulls from day one of their recruit's training. This must be why their ejaculations were so liberating!

To the other half of the men, the two damsels were a gift from Heaven and a way to get back at the Brigadier, who was hated by the men and all the officers who did not belong to his special club of snobs.

The farm boy was spotted and two soldiers aimed at him, preventing him to run to the farm house. The farm dog had been barking for a while, and now its barking was renewed, but the British paid no attention to it. England is a dog-loving country. Killing a dog would be a far more evil crime than raping a Brigadier's niece, or two for that matter.

"Come here, lad! We ain't gonna hurt you", Corporal Baxter told the Ural farm boy, who didn't have the foggiest idea of whatever he was saying, but he heard the tone of his voice and approached the group of khaki soldiers, his eyes locked on the girls who had just been gang-raped. The soldiers were smiling, smoking a cigarette or drinking out of a flask of scotch, or simply out of their canteen. Water with a touch of gin. Corporal Baxter went on...

"Come on and cheer up, my lad! That's it! You would like to taste these girls, wouldn't you? Well, take your pick! One has brown hair and is about your age, and the other has even darker hair and is a bit older, or less young shall we say. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

The boy followed the laughing Corporal's gesture toward the younger girl with dark brown hair. He had large blue eyes that grew even larger as he contemplated Violet's nakedness, the wide-open remnants of her khaki shirt increasing the erotic sight of her small breasts where she lay exhausted, her limbs still forming the same X as when she was being restrained. Her semen-filled cunt received most of the boy's blue gaze as he advanced upon her.

"Stay away from my sister!" Esther hollered where she lay on her side, stark naked where the boys could see her curves at full leisure, and her delicate feet with their soles dirty with Ural earth. At some point, the soldiers had freed Esther from what was left of her uniform and ran their hands and kisses everywhere on her, including and especially her bare feet.

"Shut up, tramp! Shut up if you don't want your ass raped with a bayonet!" the Lance Corporal barked, while the farm dog kept at its stoic job of barking in alarm. People from the farm's neighbouring farm were no doubt watching as well. The Englishmen didn't care about the peasants, as they stood tall and smoke and felt like little kings.

All soldiers watched the improbable encounter between the peasant boy from Ural and the maiden from London whose uncle had friends in the Horse Guards. This was happening!

The boy had his cock out of his dirty trousers, with spots of hen droppings on them, as he knelt and he began to masturbate, while Violet watched with a mix of horror and fascination, her dainty nose smelling his bizarre mix of dirty smell and boyish musk. This was her first time seeing a boy about her own age, although she sensed that this boy was probably a bit younger than herself. What a horrible way for losing his virginity!

"Don't... Please, don't do this," Violet said, as if talking to a boy on the verge to jump to his death from a white cliff near Dover. But she wasn't resisting.

The boy didn't understand and didn't care. He lowered himself upon the naked English girl and from up close, she saw the acne on his face and smelled his breath. He had a bad breath and wasn't as handsome as he looked from a distance. Violet recoiled, but he pressed himself on her and kissed her!

"That's the way, boy! Yes! Go on, boy!" Corporal Baxter yelled. The farm dog kept barking. The father was watching from his window, but dared not go outside, afraid that the soldiers would turn on his house and find his daughters in the cellar. He was right to be afraid of this, but he risked losing his only son! The dilemma was killing him.

The boy was now attempting to get inside Violet, who cried and suffered under his bad attempts. To ease her pain and get it done quick, she helped him and opened her legs wider under him, knowing that if she didn't, he would keep on fumbling and perhaps turn angry and violent. She had gained a lifetime of experience in these matters in a short while, when the soldiers had urgently filled her up with bad memories.

The boy grunted in Violet's face, sometimes clumsily kissing her neck, where she felt his heated slobber along with his furious prick inside her. He grunted louder and more eagerly, increasingly so, until he screamed, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!"

The Corporal applauded the boy's performance, but some of his men aimed at an approaching man, a middle-aged peasant coming from the farm house, unarmed, while his dog barked louder than ever. The soldiers quickly understood this was the boy's father. He looked both angry and afraid. He began yelling at his son.

The son grew afraid and ran toward nearby woods, leaving his father alone with the English soldiers, whose uniforms had tell-tale smears of earth on their knees.

"We ain't going to hurt you and your family, my brave friend!" Corporal Baxter told him, but he was reminded that English is of no use in Ural. He pointed at the girls, silently inviting him to take his turn inside of either one.

The forty-something peasant realized here and there that this was the true reason he had risked himself near the foreign soldiers. He wanted to fuck a maiden, even more so now that he saw them from up close. They were gorgeous, both of them!

"No... No, please!" Esther blurted out as she saw the older peasant walk straight at her. "Please! You're too old!" the maiden said, oblivious of the sex she had had on many occasions with her late uncle Chester.

The peasant was upon Esther! Who screamed in horror as he crudely shoved her flat on her back and began licking her tits as if this act was the key to eternal happiness. After a short while, the man turned her around, where she now lay flat on her belly, and he began slobbering her butt, licking it with all he had while the soldiers cheered him on and the farm dog kept barking, while the serene clouds cruised way high up above the solemn pines, and Esther was crying and begging the father to stop, to spare whatever dignity she had left. Her sunny butt remained prey of his slobbering affections while Corporal Baxter laughed and asked her whether she liked this.

The older peasant was now like a cowboy on her legs, where his cock jutted out above the daylight moons of Esther's butt. He began to masturbate! His cock wasn't all the way hard, so he gave it a tight rubbing, until it was so.

Then he laid himself on his side while nudging the exhausted girl until she was also on her side with her heavenly curves in line with his penetrative branch, where he lost no time and gave Esther the full strong benefit of his branch, country bred in Ural. He loved how the sun played lights and shadows in her black hair against the pure white of her skin. He knew he was going to remain stiff and hard inside her all the way to the breeding explosion.

Violet watched the unthinkable happening before her very eyes! Everyone watched it while the dog kept barking tirelessly.

Tirelessly, the peasant bucked Esther in this side-way position, holding her hips with caressing hands, filling her with horror and disgust, and loving the sight of her buttocks as he country-bred her.

His middle-aged man's groaning detonation echoed against nearby pines as he fully unloaded and gave Esther an orthodox belly-full of semen. The Protestant girl raised in London was now stone silent, unable to wrap her head around the brutal fact that she had just been raped by a Russian peasant in the far reaches of Ural.

The wind from the south carried firecracker sounds that tore the morning's blue-sky peace.

"Fire-shots!" Corporal Baxter ejaculated as he was lowering his trousers again and about to try out a masturbation session over Violet's tits.

"What's this?" the Lance Corporal blurted out of his astonished face, echoed by most men. The farm dog kept barking on, its tail waggling about upon seeing and hearing so many unusual things at once.

More gunshots in even greater concentrations echoed against the transfixed squad of British soldiers, who suddenly felt really far away from home as they realized that the small town was under attack!

"Impossible!" Baxter bellowed. "Impossible! The Bolsheviks are too far! There's the Czech Division between them and us!"

Belyyfontan was being attacked indeed.

Corporal Baxter and his brave men decided to seek shelter in the nearby farm house, although they avoided the barking dog that clearly didn't like them. Lance Corporal John Armstrong had made a case for running the three verstes to town and help their brigade make a stand, and lost his argument, and the Lance Corporal ran to town by himself, seeking glory in a battle that was already lost.

The 1,600 strong English force had found comfortable lodgings and much comfort near the local women. They had made themselves at home, like Hannibal in Capua, the Ural Russian version of it, and they did not expect any enemy since two Czech brigades were between them and the Bolsheviks. Something unpredictable had happened.

Both Czech brigades had mutinied and killed nearly all their officers! And now the turned-Red Division was attacking the town! Woe betide the softened British force!

With the highest-ranking officers spending a quiet time in the mansion up north, only Captains and Lieutenants were left in town, and most of these brave officers made more of a stand to hide themselves and their lady companions than help organize a defense. It came down to the Sergeants and Corporals to do something, and by the time these back-bone petty officers had realized it was up to them to do something about it, the enemy was already swarming the streets!

The British soldiers were systematically hunted down by the turned-fanatic Czechs, who kept shouting Bolshevik slogans as they shot and bayoneted the British. Most of Belyyfontan was populated by poor people whose daughters had endured the assaults of British soldiers, who had behaved even worse than the Bolsheviks, so they turned on the garrison and joined the Czechs in the fight to liberate the town!

The well-off townsmen of Belyyfontan had quickly secured privileges from the occupying British. Their house were easily spotted since they all had a large white flag for Czarist support on their porch, and the local populace knew where to find them anyway. The panicked Englishmen who had avoided being slaughtered in the streets sought refuge in these privileged houses, where concerned fathers promptly hid their daughters.

When such a house was soon spotted, it was quickly surrounded and a short siege was fought that ended the same way every time: there were too few defenders and too many attackers. And when the Czechs stormed the house, the surviving defenders were either captured or slaughtered, and the ones who did survive witnessed the gang-rape of all female members of the household. These bourgeois houses would be turned into military brothels.

Shrill screams were heard inside the captured houses while British soldiers either tried to flee in the streets or found some cover and began shooting at the attackers, only to be shot themselves or bayoneted not long after. In this wild confusion, boys and old men of the town joined the Czechs and took whatever weapons they could find -- pitchforks, axes, knives, staffs or their bare hands-- and attacked the Englishmen! Kill the King's men! Kill them all!

Most of the surviving British ran into the country, where farmers began shooting at them upon realizing they had either lost their rifles or had no more ammunition. Those British pigs who had harassed, sometimes even raped farm- and shepherd-girls weren't exactly popular in the countryside. When the news of the mutiny spread, the peasants immediately hoisted a red blanket in front of their farm house to show support for the Soviets. And began hunting down the enemy like vermin.

In town, the white flags were ripped from the well-off porches and trampled in the dirt! The change had been too sudden for the owners to take these flags off, and now they paid the price as Czech soldiers and lower-class folks stormed their houses! As per the unwritten rules of war, the victorious Czechs overran each and every house with a white flag, and after slaughtering the handful of British defenders in it, they began "inspecting for hidden weapons", looking for girls, as the battle rush made them horny. Not a single town girl under the age of thirty-five was spared.

The Mayor's daughter had escaped the sacked towns-hall, only to fall in the hands of a small mob made of old men and Czech soldiers and boys, all of whom were strangers to her since she did her schooling at home, while waiting to be married off. She was offered a brutal marriage with the populace. The poor girl, who had been successfully hidden from the prior Bolsheviks, was a virgin to this day. Her auburn hair became ablaze under the sun as she was paraded in the street and surrounded by a growing crowd of inflating lusts. And low-class women who jeered at her. Some of these townswomen offered themselves to some boys and lads and an open-sky orgy ensued where boys screamed the loss of their innocence inside some half-naked neighbour whose inhibitions had fallen as he learned that some grown women secretly wanted apple-cheeks lads.

"Ilsa! Show us your titties!" Someone in the press of men yelled at the captured daughter.

"Look at her legs!" another man bellowed as he rose the hem of her dark dress to reveal a pair of thighs where no man had ever put a hand on.

Ripping sounds and loud cheers and whistles saluted the wide opening of Ilsa's fancy dark-mauve dress -- and an old man with missing teeth, whom she had known by sight for years as a beggar, pressed the sides of her corset, opened it and made short work of her petticoat, where his eyes and his bad breath met the revealed flesh apples of her bosom!

Where he became a wrinkled baby sucking for whatever milk the she had.

Ilsa protested, saying she was the Mayor's daughter and a virgin, "I'm a maiden! Have mercy! Nooo pleeeeze!", but she soon found herself naked on the street dirt, and shrieked in shame as a Czech Sergeant fingered her, then shrieked in pain as the sweaty-faced Sergeant yelled something and thrust himself inside her, entering deep and hard and not lasting long; leaving her shocked with a load of sperm inside her bruised virginity while a Corporal laid down on top of her, commented on her fiery brown bush of hair, and didn't mind sloppy seconds, for she was as beautiful as a spring flower under this autumn sky where the wind had just turned.

Although they had changed sides, the Czechs still raped the women in descending order of rank, like they had done in Yekaterinburg --- from the officers to the Sergeants and Corporals, down to the rank-and-file and to the drummer boys. Except most of the officers were organically elected among the natural leaders. One forty-year-old chaplain, popular among the troops for his inspired sermons, looked in the face of a hastily stripped girl with the eyes of a demon as he penetrated her and raped her on the floor of her bedroom, with men holding her limbs and calling her a "Czarist whore".

Today's sermon was a guttural act of grunting and dumped frothing slobber on the girl's face until the chaplain's final blessing from hell.

One young townswoman was grabbed by old men, bent over a well and gang-fucked with a mix of deep shame and secret excitement as each of these old men furnished her with time-tested sperm oil. Such strength where they held her slim waist! Such thirst for her in these old veterans!

Another young wife was grabbed by a gang of boys, who hastily stripped her naked and submitted her to a collective shower of jism as they masturbated all around and over her revealed nakedness; some of the boys eventually raped her and she didn't know what to make of this as a screaming boy filled her up with the chance for a baby whose father would be weirdly close in age to this newborn. A future fiction writer was but a boy on that day, and years later, he would write about this lovely woman in her thirties and how he religiously kissed her bare feet and ejaculated on them while contemplating her long brown hair under this October sun at noon.

The female Soviet prisoners were freed from jail... and gang-raped by the celebrating Czechs. They endured the ordeal like professional whores who had grown used to be ill-treated. The young female officers were fought over by the soldiers, since the red squares on their collars guaranteed a massive ejaculation where grunts and victory cries echoed against jail walls, and the rats remained hidden from the trampling chaos where unwashed women quietly whimpered and waited for this storm to abate. Raped in their torn, filthy uniforms that acted like rags enhancing their erotic debasement.

Joseppe Constantini was an Italian merchant who had solved the problems of life by living a simple, happy life in this small town lost somewhere among the pines and mountains and valleys between Moscow and Yekaterinburg. His business was not much, but it didn't take much to earn a living in this small country town. He had arrived there with his wife in 1904 and his then-toddler daughter. This toddler had grown into the town's prettiest girl, by the name of Stefania. She had a smile that was a sun of hope and made any trip to this town worthwhile. Her brown eyes were gems more precious than anything for any boy who had met her.

Her father had kept her successfully hidden from the Red Army, then from the White Army, until she fell in love with a dashing young officer in the British force.

When all hell broke loose, Joseppe's house was besieged for more than an hour, defended by this dashing Lieutenant and a handful of King's soldiers who suddenly regretted not being in France fighting the Germans with better odds of survival, while Stefania was herself helping to re-load the rifles and even took a rifle and shot at the attackers herself when one man had fallen. But then, her lover recoiled from the next shattered window and she saw he was wounded in his neck and looking back at her with shock in his grey eyes from Dublin.

"Hide... save, your- self..." the Irish Lieutenant feebly whispered as she kissed him, bathing his handsome face with her tears. He used his last breath to warn the girl he loved.

When they overran the house, the Czechs found Stefania crying her heart out over the officer's body. He was the only man she ever loved.

"Stefania! Nasconditi!" (Stefania! Hide!) Joseppe said as he got beaten up by mutinied soldiers, but it was too late. Soldiers went through all rooms and soon found his wife and Stefania's two younger sisters, both at the very dawn of their maiden years, and the girls began shrieking in glass-breaking intensity as the mad soldiers, too battle drunk to know what they were doing, began to savagely undress the young maidens!

As he saw Stefania with her long dark hair, in her royal-blue dress that powerfully hinted at her kneeling beauty where she kept crying over her dead lover, while his men groped her, the elected Captain leading the Czechs whistled and grinned. "Well well well! Look what we have here! Grab her!"

Stefania was grabbed by soldiers ignoring her father's Italian threats. Joseppe was knocked out by a well-aimed rifle-butt while the last two defenders were duly bayoneted, one of whom had a raging erection as he heard the shrill screaming of the younger sisters and the wife being raped in the other rooms, and gazed at Stefania about to be raped. This soldier died with an indignant look on his face, because he was only 20 and felt he had the right to live and witness the rape, and then perhaps go back home to his fiancée.

Stefania's tears were licked off her pretty face by the newly elected Captain as he licked and drank her peachy soft cheeks­. And he proclaimed in Czech that she was to be raped by order of rank, that her beauty deserved that the custom be strictly observed, without stating the obvious fact that this served his own best interest as his erection was growing stiff down there.

She tried to claw his face, but she was restrained by grinning soldiers, so she spat in his proud face and looked at him defiantly. He just smiled and grabbed her chin, pinching it so hard she winced in pain, her lovely mouth ajar. Then he slapped her and enjoyed her yelp while her young sisters shrieked and called their mommy, who was herself being abused in the next room.

"All right, boys! Let's have her right now and undress her later! Get her on this table! We've done this before..."

A table was cleared of some remaining tin plates and cups, then the sobbing girl was bent over it, then the leader himself rose her blue dress along with the hem of her petticoat and he pushed all her garments up her legs and against her waist, crudely revealing her bottom amid her sobs, their jeers and laughter and the shrill screams from the other rooms. Stefania's bottom was just as soft and white as her cheeks. Men groped her curves of peachy splendour that fed their raging erections. This was going to be a well-deserved fuck after a well-fought siege!

The Captain grinned with an evil smile as he fingered Stefania, who cursed at him as she felt his fingers inside her, but other men were pressing her head on the table while contemplating her long raven hair, while she kept hearing the gang-rape of her beloved sisters, and she cried more for them than for herself. Stefania was a tough girl and almost a young woman, and she felt proud to be from the same new generation as Grand Duchess Anastasia, who she hoped was still alive. She was a Czarist at heart and hated those Bolsheviks touching her!

The penetration happened. Brutal! Stealing her virginity from her, from her dead gentleman, as the brute broke her in. Painfully so. With unwelcome hands on her waist and about everywhere else as well. Their victorious cheers and jeers deafened her as she screamed on, her cheek pressed on the table...

"Aaaaahh naaaaaaaooooo! Noooooooooooooo! Aaaaaa hhaaaa haaaa haaaaaaaaaaaaa RRRRRHHHHHHHAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA NNHAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

As she wailed, Stefania showed a face just as beautiful as her most beautiful smile where her cheek slid on the tabletop in rhythm with the demise of her virtue. A soldier gently stroked her hair while restraining her and as their officer ploughed grunting new paths inside her, the men around her felt that the trip was worthwhile while eagerly waiting their turns, basking in their hard-fought victory that had left four of them biting the dust.

Two wounded men were also there waiting their turn. They wouldn't have missed this for all the coffee in Italy! Stefania's wailing, her eyes, her white skin against the royal blue of her tucked-up dress, her raven hair, the scent of her wailing panic... all of her made a lovely music for all their senses!

Her lovely face sliding on and on, on the well-polished table, Stefania screamed her life out along with her young sisters in other rooms. Her hands were brought together in the small of her back as the Captain now raped her while holding her wrists together and using her arms like some sort of reins, and indeed he bred her like a prancing stallion as he got lost in her long dark hair and kept feeling her white buns under the mess of her tucked-up dress, and his eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets as he felt God's bliss and filled the room with a Czech war cry...

"AAAAaaaaaaahh Vyhráli-isme! (we won)!!!"

Something in her eyes was extinguished forever as she received his jism."N-haaaaaa haaaaaaaaa..."

The next man urgently took his own turn and soon filled her up. A third one did likewise. Then a fourth man...

All this time, her younger sisters kept on screaming as if they were trying to wake up the dead. Joseppe had come to just in time to see the second or third man rape his elder daughter, while hearing his younger ones sharing the same fate and completing his shame. The evil eye had burst in his house in the form of Czech men. And old men from the town showed up as well, and joined the circle of soldiers waiting their turn while pillaging his liquors and whatever things that had some value. Joseppe cried like a baby.

"Stefania... Noo! No!" was all he could say and do, restrained and tied up as he was by grinning men who knew enough Russian to tell him that his daughter was about to become the regiment's favourite whore.

Stefania's rich blue dress was pushed hard, further away up her waist, so the men could see the full splendour of her buttocks and her slim hourglass shape as some amaretto was being poured on her, perfuming her skin with sweetness where some dirty soldier licked her butt with an avid tongue that never hoped to taste such skin, before the man, urged by many others, became one with her.

The bearded soldier pounded her while grunting like a Czech bear, a love-sick bear! His grunts melting on her like warm snot on the ever-creaking table. Stefania would remain haunted by the gentle brushing of his beard against her buttocks. Her cheek sliding forever on the table, she swore to return to Italy and become a nun, as it would take a lifetime of holy chastity to erase the shame.

"Gigliola! Lucia!!!" Stefania yelled on and on, more worried about her sisters than herself as she kept receiving the platoon's homages as the pairs of hands followed one another upon her graceful, yet robust hips. The monsters! Lucia was so fragile! Gigliola was a pristine maiden!

It didn't matter to those brutes. A battle of life and death is something way too violent where all inhibitions go down the gutter and all laws, conventions and rules of morality get obliterated. When those soldiers overran the house, they killed any surviving men or rendered them helpless and then they turned on anyone who had tits and a pussy.

As she was owned by more and more men, her cheek sliding on that same table where she had played solitaire since her early childhood, Stefania realised that those things happen all the time around the world, that it was shocking, too shocking for most writers to write, and yet it was just as much part of life as the sun in the sky.

Stefania couldn't help but picture Gigliola and her perfect Milanese features twisted by fright as the troops grabbed her and began ripping her dress off--her favourite emerald-green dress that suited her black hair so well! This while Lucia, as blonde as her mother, tried to defend herself from her childish height, with little fists that had the men laughing while they began to proudly show her their cocks, in a scene not unlike one where Alice in wonderland gets suddenly gang-raped by the Queen's deck-of-card soldiers, with cocks in four kinds -- red for her pussy, black for her ass.

Indeed, the soldiers, turned into pigs, felt that those little ladies were worth completely undressing. Gigliola looked suddenly very erotic as they swiftly stripped her out of her green dress and ripped her nightgown off her budding breasts where wine-brown nipples were there, like a woman's, and presently sucked by those pigs while one gave the wailing, protesting girl her very first man's finger to force her body into unwanted wetness, this while little Lucia tried to push the men back with her little hands, the hands of a fairy as she shrieked and the men laughed at her while freeing her long golden hair from white ribbons and feeling her body through her dress.

Gigliola was tossed on her young sister's bed and forced to remain there on all fours, naked and fingered and screaming amid the sweaty circle of men, a prisoner of their strong musk, while Lucia used her fairy's hands and her shrill screaming to no avail as the Czech Bolsheviks ripped her white dress and her petticoat off her! soon baring her little breasts, where she had small rose buds for nipples that could no longer avoid being sucked by the soldiers! And later by old men, and boys, from her own town.

Gigliola and Lucia could feel and smell their hard erections! No amount of screaming would prevent the worst from happening.

With an erection proud to do such an evil thing, the Corporal who had been fingering Gigliola pushed himself inside her virginity and altered her as she screamed with unknown pain under the strain from this madman who grunted like a rutting baboon upon feeling how tight she was. This man had never had a girl with such raven-dark hair, since his wife back home was a ginger head with freckles on her face while the Soviet girl he'd had was bright blonde, so he immensely enjoyed raping this girl who was just like the girls in his innermost dreams. And felt with intense satisfaction he was going to last long enough to really enjoy her.

Lucia was soon Eve-naked and bent over a small desk she used to do her homework on. It was a white desk where her cheek was pressed on while men took whiffs of her blonde hair as they restrained her and an argument erupted between two Sergeants as to who was going first. A middle-aged soldier used the opportunity to plunge onto her peachy buttocks, and pressed his ill-shaven face on them! licking her buns with despair in his tongue, as if trying to capture eternal youth, filling his nostrils with her scent, while another man quickly got rid of her ankle-high shoes and her white silk socks, leaving her as naked as a nude fairy. Surrounded by mad cocks as the waiting men masturbated or helped restraining the shrieking young lady who was being forced into early adulthood.

The bedroom was soon filled by gorilla-sounding grunts as the Corporal baptised Gigliola's womb and the Sergeant who had won the fisticuff entered inside Lucia, causing the poor girl to shriek in absolute pain as he had forgotten to slobber his cock or to finger her first, and the small lady received him with only a token amount of juices from her adrenaline-rich terror.

"AAAAAAA AAA AAAAAA AAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA NNAAOOOOO AAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA..."

Lucia's shrieks met the ears of both her sisters. Gigliolia, raped on all fours on the creaking bed where hands held her taut buttocks as the second man victoriously slid inside her war-prize body. This man would later be haunted by guilt for raping a girl just as young as his own daughter. And this was why he erupted so soon with such a geyser of sperm. Inside the raven-haired young lady.

Stefania overheard Lucia's house-shattering shrieks as she herself had a victory-sliding Czech inside her, gang-raped as she was near her dead lover. With her father forced to watch.

Her mother was also being raped, but as an afterthought. In fact, the blonde mother had been duly stripped naked, but was only used for stimulating erections, by men who got hard inside her, but then went for her daughters rather than waste semen inside an older woman. Silvia was still charming to look at, especially naked, but her slightly sagging breasts were no match for Gigliola's spring apples or Lucia's rose buds.

Many of those men would be struck by horrible guilt afterwards, when their battle-rushed body would calm down and settle in that realisation of "what have I done?"

But for now, nothing felt better than Gigliola's white butt being repeatedly struck, or Lucia's cock-hardening curves of small proportions being repeatedly flattened in this mad celebration of victory, where one man after the other found that a small girl like Lucia could pull a huge load of semen. The troops did their utmost to make her pregnant as each one of their grunting strokes turned Lucia into a woman.

Stefania was well worth stripping naked.

After eight men gave her their sperm, the Captain proved sound judgement as he felt it was time to get rid of her royal-blue dress and see what hidden treasures she had. It was a feast to rip her dress off her while she screamed out of such a pretty face, her eyes filled with tears; her eyes that nonetheless filled men's heart with life and hope, where she could see her lover's bloody corpse while she was being ruthlessly undressed in front of her sobbing father, with her sisters' persisting whimpers in the background and the ever-present wailing of her mother.

The fancy buttons were sent flying off her forced-open dress while she protested, her small wrists restrained, her ankles tightly held where men were quickly pulling her shoes off her feet. She went on screaming, only able to attract more men from the streets and into the house as she shrieked and begged the Czechs to please stop This! knowing she would die of shame if her father saw her in the nude.

Stefania's dress was ripped open, intensifying the ivory white of her fancy corset. The leader smiled and ordered the men to restrain her good, then he pressed the sides of the corset and freed its busks in front. Her corset was urgently opened! then her petticoat ripped apart! Stefania's screams shattered any leftover dignity in the house as her breasts came into view, perky! White mounds of skin cream; orbs from heaven catching the room's daylight with a silver necklace showing a Catholic crucifix on her cleavage; white mounds with rosy-brown nipples causing all men present to become madly erect, including her own shamed father.

A small mob of old townsmen and boys had materialised around her and made the large house too small and crowded. Amid the mob, Stefania recognised Jouko, her sixty-year-old neighbour, from Finland, who was always so nice and warm, but now he had the eyes of a madman as he drank her naked bosom with his gaze, and Jouko caught side of her slender figure, Eve-nude and restrained by yelling jeering soldiers and illiterate boys, with her intimate triangle of black hair between her pristine thighs! Her carpet! Touched! Hidden by hands of boys and men as she screamed on, mad with shame.

The waves of her rape organically became organised. Stefania was lifted off her dainty feet, kissed there by some boy she knew by sight while she was spread-eagled in their arms and held there, screaming louder and shriller than ever, her voice turning husky as the organically appointed Captain of these Czech brigands stood between her squirming legs and speared himself inside her, deep to the hilt, as he looked at her and her jiggling tits with the face of a demonic satyr! Just like he had planned! He had raped her from behind, now he was having her again full-blast forward!

This while Stefania kept hearing and sensing her sisters sharing her fate, her mind's eye seeing Lucia's too-young buttocks repeatedly flattened in urgent rapes, under mad grunts from soldiers and men from this very town! Lucia's vagina filled with cocks well before her time.

Captain Sedlák, born to a poor peasant family in Bohemia, raped the eldest daughter of an Italian merchant, the said father kept standing and made to watch Stefania's tits-jiggling ordeal where she was kept horizontal in some chaotic poetry, her naked body offered like a holy relic for the jeering multitude as the Captain went full steam ahead and violated her with even more delight than the first time, for he could now see the convulsions and the bitterness in her lovely face where her long dark hair kept swaying where she was constantly being groped and teased and laughed at and spat on by the compact mix of soldiers and old men and boys, some of whom lived on her street.

After the Captain's urgent and loud bliss came the Sergeants, the Corporals and the Privates in this carrousel from hell where Stefania was given far too much semen than her pussy could handle, and much of it dripped down on the Turkish carpet covering the floor under the savage press of men, all of whom brandishing an eager cock. She was the town's most wanted girl!

Stefania found it was even worse to be gang-raped by boys and old men that she had known for years. Seeing their true face as each one looked down upon her while raping her was unbearable. In the midst of this press and the never-ending buffeting and thrusts where she took cocks of all ages, Stefania learned that social rules and law are but a thin veneer hiding man's animal nature. Eve had sinned with the apple and ever since then, man was a lot closer to dirt than heaven. And those orthodox men raping her like a bunch of vociferating pagans saw her Catholic crucifix and saw in it a fitting reason to ease their conscience.

"Catholic tramp! Take this! Uuughhh!"

"She got what she deserved! But she's pretty! UUHHHHGGH!!!" ejaculated Jouko while spitting on her and filling her up. The old neighbour couldn't believe how good it felt to ejaculate inside Stefania the town's prettiest girl!

In this supreme moment, Stefania felt a nascent orgasm within her as her body jerked in their arms and men laughed upon hearing her forced moaning. Then a boy about three years younger than her materialised and yelled, "Stefania!" as he clumsily tried to penetrate her. His grandfather was there and tossed him aside!

"Look, Petia! This is how it's done! Uughh!" and with his strain and winged words, the sixty-something man expertly entered inside Stefania and as he forced-fucked her, he had leisure to compare between her and the Soviet officer he had raped some weeks before. For starters, Stefania had even better tits. There were no words to convey how he felt inside her while she avoided his gaze, her circling eyes looking at all those men and soldiers restraining her, looking at all of them like a trapped animal as her breasts kept jiggling amid this press of men and erect cocks. Her face always bitter as if she just swallowed a dozen lemons. While the boy's grandfather kept yelling and grunting his mad pleasure in her face...

"Aaaaahh! This one's much better! Oh God! The youngest girl I ever had! Thank you God! Thank you thank you thank you yes yes yes yess aaaaaahhhhh! Soo good to rape a Catholic girl---YES! YES! yESSSS!!!"

And like a madman, the old produce store-keeper raped Stefania, whom he had often seen in his store, raping her with his hands locked around her waist and looking at the tumult of her moving breasts, enjoying her tired whimpers, while he hammered her on and on amid the loud crowd of eager or satisfied men, and at last, the old satyr felt the magic in his wobbly legs and shot a huge load inside her!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!! This... how t's done..."

His grand son received a pat of encouragement on his shoulder, from a Czech soldier, as he took over. This time his charge was a success, and as she looked up at him, Stefania felt sorry for him as she received him deep and he began to pound her, his eyes avoiding her gaze and remaining locked on her ever-moving breasts, and she was taken by a sudden surge of moaning heat and tightened her legs around him as he soon screamed the loss of his virginity and gave her an incredible amount of local pudding.

Then another boy raped Stefania and she was hit by a violent climax, her body surrendering to this massive rape where such a young boy was allowed to take his pleasure inside her! She felt the air and a boy's slobber kiss her feet and her lower legs, along with a legion of hands, and in this high moment where bliss forced itself upon her, Stefania failed to keep herself from feeling how erotic this was, to be naked and raped by her own town, in a grand flourish of grunts and unrestrained frenzy as these men's secret desire for her was exploding in broad daylight. With her father watching. While both her sisters were being horribly raped.

Her own father stood there, restrained, with an immensely hard erection pushing his trousers, while the jeering multitude kept giving her their sperm. Her eyes met the room's crucifix and Stefania was surprised to see it was still straight and not inverted, although what was happening to her and her sisters was positively evil.

Stefania knew and dreaded this moment. They took her father and forced him to walk near her, while dropping his trousers and freeing his cock where veins were at the bursting point. She fainted!

They woke her with a pressing collective assault of kisses and tongues all over her body! The Captain gleefully sucking her free-moving breasts while others worshipped every little inch of her, from her bare feet all the way to her long dark hair, with concentrating circles of moving hands where her skin was softest. Exploring her nakedness while Joseppe lost his mind and began to masturbate.

"Now girl!" the Captain said in Russian, smiling under his cheap moustache, "You choose! You get fucked by your own father, or you suck his cock!"

"I... I want to... be fucked..." Stefania heard herself say, as if she were someone else, and her pussy exploded with forbidden anticipation as her body ran away with her, crazy-mad by the horrific notion of getting fucked by her own father.

The smiling press of men, and boys and old men laughing at him, moved her and bent her over the table, where her father laid eyes on her graceful nakedness for the very first time, at full leisure to see her well-shaped ass and her slit that seemed to be waiting for him. He cried like a baby as he realised that something monstrous within him actually wanted this intercourse to happen. Like many fathers with such a beautiful daughter, he had at times fantasised about her during sex with his wife.

Like in a mad dream where the whole town was cheering and mocking him, Joseppe found himself holding Stefania's hips and curves, and he began to caress her! Running his hands around the contours of Stefania's butt! Contours that deserved to be immortalised by Michelangelo.

And with his stiff cock full of hot veins, Joseppe touched his daughter's butt cheek before inserting his crime inside her while the soldiers near him laughed, and felt horny at the close sight of this incest.

Stefania began to moan hard, her cheek kissing the table and she did not resist, and she felt too dignified to say "Father! No!" because she knew and half-accepted that her bruised body, and her tired mind, secretly wanted this sombre act to happen. His hands were warm and fatherly upon her as he took his shame and pleasure, even telling her he loved her, his eyes hypnotised by her bottom against him, with her narrow butt-crack that seemed all-powerful and enhanced the white daylight of her skin, and kept his cock tight and hard inside her as he fed her his hot strokes while hearing her immoral moaning.

Soon, Joseppe was pounding her in the crowded room that suddenly fell silent. Only the sounds of flesh against flesh, his moans and Stefania's were heard.

Silvia his wife was kindly escorted in the room, where she cursed and fainted as she saw her husband raping their daughter against the table, in this dignified room that had seen so many happy days for them, a good Catholic family who feared God.

The crucifix high on the wall was a silent witness of the supreme sin where Stefania moaned loud and high under the empire of an all-encompassing orgasm where she found herself wishing that her father would keep ploughing her until sunset, and then she had a fierce after-shock climax that had her shivering against the sturdy table as the whole room was filled with Joseppe's long wailing cry of despair as he blissfully exploded inside her!

TO BE CONTINUED.

[HistBuff]

Chapter 23: Tragedy In The Forest

In the farm house, Corporal John Baxter had to do some rapid thinking. What shall he do? The farm dog kept barking, seriously getting on his nerves. They had hastily taken refuge in this small house, bringing Esther and Violet along with them while the family father, between two soldiers, kept muttering things in Russian, about feeling guilty and ashamed for what he did, while avoiding looking directly at the girls. None of the British except Violet understood Russian, and no one in these parts spoke English.

"Henry! Jeremy! Go down in the cellar, see who's there!" Baxter ordered while grinning at the father, who stared back at him silently with notes of amusement in his eyes.

Both soldiers soon came back and reported that no one was down there, but there were lots of beer kegs and some liquor and there were pieces of smoked ham and sausages, and a cat that ran into a dark corner.

The soldiers soon began to bring their attention back to their captive girls, but Corporal Baxter was having none of this. "Enemy soldiers may come any minute! There's no time for this! And one of you, shoot that dog!"

Indeed, the dog kept barking non-stop and even an English Corporal felt this had been going on for too long. The soldier Baxter had nodded at hesitated; raping girls was fine in wartime, but killing a dog?

Sensing this was about the dog, the father offered to go calm down the dog in a Russian no one of his distinguished guests understood. Only Violet understood his words and she felt a sordid sense of admiration for his courage in front of seven armed men, although he did rape Esther her elder sister.

Another soldier went outside with a Victorian-era revolver, an Enfield Mark 1, .476 cal., while the father began to yell at Baxter, in tears, begging him to spare his dog in words that met the Corporal's dumb-looking face.

The soldier got outside and the dog barked louder, frantically. One shot was heard.

It wasn't the Enfield revolver.

The soldier fell while the dog went into its hiding place, no longer pulling on its chain, and now quietly howling as it knew the sound of the son's rifle. For the son had run and met his mother and sisters at the exit of a secret tunnel that led from the cellar to the nearby wood. You don't undergo occupation by the Red Army as a peasant without developing some shrewd survival skills; the father and son had worked day and night to dig that tunnel while disguising the daughters as young farm boys.

The mother had handed his rifle to her son, and she herself kept the father's Nagant revolver. The elder sister had run to a neighbouring farm, whose father, while grabbing his old rifle, sent his younger son running to the next farm, and before long, Corporal Baxter would have a dozen armed farmers and farm boys besieging him.

With the Lance Corporal gone and one soldier dead, Baxter didn't know what to do. Now there were only six of them left and he sensed that something bad was about to happen if they stayed in that house. He tried to think, but had no idea what to do, other than grab the father, walk out the door and go out a few yards, forced to do so because the soldier's body lay on the threshold. He was struck by the countryside's beauty on this gorgeous day, but also struck by distant gunshots from the town two miles away. Something in him told him to throw his gun down, raise his hands and hope for the shooter's mercy, but he was too proud to do this: he was a King's soldier facing peasants.

Then, holding his revolver at the father's head, Corporal Baxter, out of his well-fed face, shouted out to wherever he thought the shooter was, and made his threat in plain English...

"Hey you out there! Come on out right now! Come out and drop your rifle, or I'll shoot your father as dead as a door nail!"

The son's bullet flew through his head and Baxter's squad-leading career ended right there, with his brain shutting down for good at the feet of this Ural farmer, on this gorgeous day, thousands of miles away from any place where English was spoken and understood.

The five remaining soldiers inside grew terrified, wondering what to do. The father ran to the dog, unchained it and then found shelter in the nearby wood. None of the surviving soldiers dared venture outside, for good reason. They had heard the rifle shot, seen their leader fall, and knew the shooter was out there aiming at the open door and was a crack shot.

"Do, do you know any Russian?" Jeremy asked of Esther and Violet while avoiding the gazes of the girls he and his mates had raped.

Esther cast a "go to hell" look back at him and began playing chess with herself, after spotting a chessboard she didn't expect to find in a peasant's house.

Violet cast him an amused smile, all too happy to see two of the soldiers dead and the surviving ones in such dire straits. She knew some Russian, but there was no way she was going to help her rapists.

"William," said the oldest soldier to the youngest one, "William, go outside and tell this shooter we will leave!"

"Why don't you go out yourself, Henry?"

"I'm the one in charge! You do as I say!"

"They don't speak English around here, you idiot! What do you want me to tell him?! He'll shoot me like a duck as soon as I walk out!"

Henry wanted to punch the young soldier, but Jeremy stopped him, while Violet and Esther cast an amused look at their bickering.

"So, what do you suggest we do, bright young man? Sit here and wait our turn to get killed?" Jeremy asked of William.

"Let's think," William replied. "This peasant either lives alone in this house with his son, or he has a wife and other children who aren't home. The son is probably gone off to alarm the neighbouring farm, and before long we'll have armed peasants surrounding us, and the local people hate us!"

"Nonsense," Henry cut in, "we're the King's men, we're here to restore their beloved Czar into power! We're here to..."

"How did you make it to Private while being so stupid?"

"I'll fucking kill ya!" Henry hollered, rising his bayonet at the rookie soldier, but again, Jeremy held him with ease as he was the squad's strongest man.

"Keep on talking, Will. What should we do?" Jeremy asked.

"Quite frankly, I'm at a loss, but we must do something and quick. In a few minutes there'll be a dozen angry farmers surrounding us! We'll run out of ammo and this crack shooter will be deadly for any man trying to shoot out of these windows, and we can't negotiate we don't speak Russian! We must get out of here now! Oh wait, I think I've got something..."

***

Major Ivan Sidorov's Thoughts...

In this old mansion buried deep in the northern woods, its walls riddled with ivy and long-gone memories, there I stand. Shaving myself in an upstairs bedroom where I spent the night. It is a stately mirror fitting for such a stately bedroom with a massive bed that's like everything else in this mansion --- at least a hundred years old, in a gaunt room with dark wooden walls where each shadow has perhaps something more than darkness. I don't care about taking my watch out of my pocket and looking at it; I like not knowing what time it is. Here I can hope to spend three days of quiet or a bit longer if there's enough food.

The men have spent the night downstairs with our lovely captives, and how can I blame them? Having young women to do as they please with is something still a bit new to them, although many of them partook to the orgy with the Soviet prisoners, but there are corpses to bury and the men may still turn against me, I'm an officer. I need to have Sergeant Novák on my side.

As I finish shaving, I think of that morning where I did just that in Tobolsk, the very morning I met Grand Duchess Anastasia for the first time. Nastya. The Merry little one. We played colorito while she played footsie with me under the table. Oh God! She had such wonderful dainty feet! So feminine! And now I've turned against her kind again by returning to the Red Army!

Something's written on the mirror! How come I didn't notice it before? It's dark. Looks like written by a stick for lips, the kind only rich women can afford...

"You're a traitor. Rapist!"

Then I could swear I heard some faint, light footsteps. Perhaps a girl, laughing? I quickly finish shaving, half looking at the mirror for I"m dead afraid of what I might see in it. I cut myself, but don't mind. As I quickly walk out of this eerie room, I think I heard a merry girl's voice say something. "Rapist."


Downstairs, I found the men still having their fun with the naked girls, each one in tears as the fifty-plus men subject them to a slew of debasing kisses and caresses, never getting bored with their adorable bodies. The Czech hunters were oblivious to the stench from the English corpses. They also seemed oblivious to their officer and his whereabouts. The First Lieutenant was presently feeding crows in the gray morning.

"Sergeant Novák, you're in charge of your men! I'm just the brigade major, remember?"

Still naked, the tall Sergeant displayed the body of a Czech Apollo, and I heard one of the youngest girls say she was a bit lucky in her misfortune to have been used by such a gorgeous man. He looked around for pieces of his uniform and finally spotted his tunic.

Most of the mutinied men were casting suspicious looks at me and my Major's White Army uniform as they slowly cleared the cobwebs. I could hear them think about their officer and what could have happened to him.

"The First Lieutenant's dead," I said plainly in my accented Czech for all to hear. "He was killed last night, don't you remember?"

The men all looked at each other, unable to foggily remember what the others had done before the orgy, where they ended up quite drunk. The Sergeant was quickly getting dressed again and ordered the men to do likewise, and then instructed them to get those corpses outside and bury them. Four soldiers were designated cooks with the mission to prepare breakfast for us and our beautiful captives.

"You give us good sex, we give you food!" I told the prisoners, looking personally at the blonde lady I had seen in Petersburg four years before. She looked back at me and yelped as she recognized me while chastely hiding her breasts, although I could see the rest of her beauty where she sat on her heels, next to the blonde nun, who did a much better job at hiding her nakedness using her arms and legs.

I spoke again to my most precious ally among the mutinied soldiers...

"Sergeant Novák! These are your men! I'll personally recommend you for promotion to Captain in the Red Army! These are your men. This is your company of hunters. You decide whether these young ladies remain naked or they get to put on some clothes. Just have some men escort them everywhere they go. As for myself, I'll remain the brigade Major and I think this is now a Red Brigade! My first act as such will be to get those dead gentleman underground, and I recommend that you open the windows; it's getting stuffy in here!"

Stuffy was a gross understatement. The two youngsters vomited in a corner of the ballroom, mixing their erotic nakedness to the most unglamorous smell of a stomach's spilled contents. The stench and horror from the corpses was too much to bear. The naked ladies were all taken outside under escort. Breakfast would be postponed. And besides, we all needed some fresh air.

This was a warm day in October. I remember a British soldier, a Lance Corporal by the name of Armstrong telling me he once travelled to Canada, the Frech-speaking part of it, the Province of Quebec or Kvebek I couldn't say, and over there, they have a name for this warm time of October; the Indians' summer.

While soldiers found pieces of red cloth to put on their pale-khaki uniforms and show their newfound Bolshevik allegiance, others kept gazing at the naked ladies, some of whom followed suit and vomited like the youngsters had. We would of course make the naked aristocrats wash the ball-room, then wash them using buckets of water from the well, as a requirement to win the right to put on a dress and earn their breakfast. These ladies clearly needed to learn the value of honest work.

Soldiers began carrying the dead officers outside. Some of the dead gentlemen had a red sash that was put to good use. The sashes were cut and the men shared pieces of its red fabric to adorn their uniform. All thirteen corpses were quickly buried in shallow graves, soon to be devoured by wildlife.

We were done with the burying of the Brigadier and his snob club of officers, and the Czechs were into building crude wooden crosses like good Catholics for those Protestant gentlemen, with some of the young ladies even helping out. In the end, one of the men said a short prayer and we observed a moment of silence for the fallen men, while one of the ladies kept sobbing in the mourning of her lover while the blonde nun comforted her.

"What shall we do now, Sir?" asked First Sergeant Novák.

"Like I said, this is your company, Captain!" I replied, smiling. I looked at all the men and felt they were beginning to accept me, some of them grinning at me, but there was no way to be absolutely sure. And my life would be just as much at risk if I went into these woods alone than staying here.

"What do you think's going to happen, Major?" inquired a young fellow by the name of Swoboda.

"What I think, Ludvik?" I replied, using his first name as I recalled how he raped the strikingly beautiful brunette, how he got lost in his basic act of thrusting inside her like a madman while gazing at her tits and forcing his thrusts deeper while he remained propped up on his arms above the tumult of her bosom and the aimless shaking of her sobbing head. "What I think? I think that our own brigade has turned Red and is going to attack the town and slaughter all the British in it. I think this is happening right now as I speak, and the town's too far for us to hear the gunshots, and the privileged folks of this town are going to have their house sacked and witness the gang-rape of their daughters."

"You mean, the entire brigade? Turned Red?!"

"Yes, Ludvik. Exactly. If we turned, then chances are that most of the brigade also did. Our General's dead, long live our General!"

Sergeant Novák, or rather Captain Novák ordered a toast to celebrate.

***

Inside the farm house, William had become de facto squad leader. Violet and Esther began protesting when the eighteen-year-old Private told the others what his idea was.

"We're going to strip the girls naked and use them as a shield, then we run for it!"

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard!" Henry said.

"Do you have a better idea, wise man?" the youngster replied.

Henry bolted at William, but the others restrained him.

"All right, we'll do that!" said Jeremy, and this settled the matter for the others as well.

"Wait, but no! No!" Esther protested.

"Yes!" Jeremy bellowed. "Yes! Disrobe now or we'll do it for you!"

Violet had already begun to undo the buttons that had survived her initial rape, and she presently dropped her field shirt, lighting up the dark wooden farm house with the bright flash of her skin, wowing the soldiers for a fleeting moment where they forgot their deadly predicament. Violet then undid her belt and dropped her khaki trousers where she had been left barefoot by her rapists. She stood naked, her face flushed with shame, in silent tears, and filled with hatred. "I hope they kill you all!" she thought.

"All right, Esther. Strip!" Henry ordered, happy to use some authority after his defeat to a youngster.

"I... can't... no..."

"All right, grab her!" Henry added, smiling wide while gazing at Violet's charms and trying to resolve the unfathomable equation of her hip curves, slender and yet vast relative to her mouse-size waist.

Esther filled the little house with her screams as three soldiers promptly released her from the social weight of her uniform, enjoying the act of further tearing her field shirt and forcing her trousers down, even kissing her spacious butt as the girl kept wailing in despair.

Outside, fifty yards away, the farm boy wondered what the deuce was going on inside his father's house. Were they stupid enough to rape the girls again while besieged, with the door open?! That fat Corporal had indeed showed an award-winning degree of asinine intellect. The result lay in a pool of blood near the edge of the house, among the dog's shit.

A boy from the neighbouring farm came at him running, holding a rifle. Mikhail recognized Stefan, a boy about two years younger than himself and already a good shot. Before long, other farmers would encircle the doomed Englishmen, who would then be forced to shoot back and would eventually run out of bullets, or forced to surrender, and Mikhail had made up his mind --- These English pigs would be shot like dogs! Girls of the neighbouring farms had been harassed or worse by those English brigands. His sisters had been spared thanks to the secret tunnel he and his father had dug in addition to the usual farm chores; he had the earth embedded in his fingernails to prove it.

Mikhail told the younger boy to stay hidden and do nothing as he kept his aim on the open door.

A girl appeared, the very one he had raped, with brown hair and a skinny figure. She was, naked?! Then the other girl appeared, the one with black hair and a fuller figure. Also naked?!

As he kept his rifle aimed at them, he saw the soldiers hiding or trying to hide behind the panicked girl, whose cowering cries he could hear, but then the thinner girl ran forward and the English soldiers ran for it to his right! One soldier had stumbled on the dead Corporal and tripped. Mikhail aimed and scored an easy kill. At fifty yards, his head looked like a large balloon he couldn't miss.

"This wood! Let's go there!" Jeremy said, panting amid his running. Henry and one soldier followed him into the wood behind the house, while slender William was already far ahead and kept on running toward the east, and disappeared in a thick forest.

"I think... I think we're, safe here!" Henry told the two others as he leaned on the sturdy trunk of an old birch, with the high canopy of pines casting comforting shadows on him and the other survivors.

Jeremy saw a man. The father. Standing five yards away. With a revolver pointed at him. And a loud Pow!

He felt as if a giant punched him on the chest and his legs sank under him as he heard another gunshot. Jeremy realized he was floating above the scene where Henry also fell while the third soldier crouched and aimed his rifle at the father, but he yelped as the dog seemed to leap out of nowhere and caught his leading arm. The third man failed to aim properly. The rifle went off and missed way high as the angry dog, a large shepherd dog, buried its teeth in the screaming man's arm. Then the ominous Nagant spoke again, from point-blank range, and its fast bullet delivered its fast message through the man's panicked brain.

Jeremy felt he was floating in the air, and saw his own lifeless body lying there at the foot of the birch, along with his two fallen mates; and then he felt he was flying higher, and higher. He was in the sky! So high! He wished himself back home, and the clouds went by him at a demented speed, and there he was. Whitby! Why didn't he enlist in the Navy like his brother did? He'd be still alive, but then he remembered. His elder brother had been killed in action in the battle of Jutland two years ago.

He flew to his own house and saw his lovely sister, Maude. The very girl he had lost his virginity with. It was their secret. Maude was kneeling by her bed and praying. Praying for her brother Jeremy to come back home safe, to come back to her and love her again in secret; in mortal sin. His father was gone to work while his mother was in the kitchen, making bread as usual, sometimes looking at the calendar and he could almost hear her think. About him. Why did he do such a thing as raping girls? If he hadn't, he would have kept his head and would be still alive and thinking on his feet like a good soldier ought to. He would have lived. For his folks. For Maude.

Someone lay a hand on his spiritual shoulder and an all-mighty voice said, "You are forgiven, my Son."

Stefan ran to the front of the farm house, where he found himself alone with two naked girls. He didn't know what to do and looked down at the grass, shocked upon seeing what he had seen! He had never seen a girl in the nude before. One of the girls spoke to him in passable Russian...

"I'm Violet, and this is Esther. Can you please hide us?"

Without thinking, Stefan took Violet by the hand and Esther followed. He led them beyond the road and into some thick woods. In these woods, the country boy had built a secret shack along with friends from other farms, including Mikhail. That's where the short boy from Ural led the naked young ladies from England.

"There's food in there! So, eat! You must be hungry. I'll go get you girly clothes! Stay here. You're safe."

Stefan ran to his own house, where he told his mother about two English girls who had fled soldiers from her own country because they were harming them!

"I'm not surprised to hear this. Those English pigs know no boundaries! They even shot at the poor girls! I heard the shots. And both are naked? All right, take two of Lidia's dresses," the mother said with tears in her eyes. Lidia had been taken by the Bolsheviks and raped to death. She was too young to die. "Bring these girls here, Mikhail, please do bring them here. I'll raise them as my own daughters!"

As she spoke, the brave mother broke down in tears! Stefan lay a comforting hand on her back and promised her he'd do just that. He said he had hidden them in a safe place and would wait until the sun went down to safely bring the girls to her.

Stefan then went to find his dead sister's dresses, of which he took two week-day dresses and, satisfied they were pretty much the right size, he went off, carrying both dresses under one arm while carrying his rifle in his right hand.

When he reached the secret shack in the woods, he heard the girls screaming in panic and ran forward!

"Ha ha! I knew it, father! I knew that Stefan would have taken the girls here!" Mikhail told his father, whose face was looking like the mask of a lust-filled demon as he anticipated another round of forced sex inside the girls.

"Well done, son! This time I'll take the thin one and you take the one with the fuller butt!"

"Hold it right there!" Stefan said, standing fifteen yards away and aiming his rifle at the transfixed duo.

"Come on, Stefan! You ain't gonna shoot at us!"

"Try me!"

Both father and son saw the steel-ice resolve in Stefan, who remained motionless while aiming at them. The girls had cowered back inside the shack and fallen silent. Mikhail began rising his rifle toward Stefan.

"Drop your rifle or I'll shoot you! My mother has lost her daughter, remember? And she wants these two girls to adopt them!"

"Drop it, son!" said the father, as he secretly took hold of his Nagant revolver at his belt, his left hip toward Stefan, so the boy couldn't see him take his revolver. The father's soul was obscured by the evil prospect of raping the girls again.

Mikhail dropped his rifle and grinned, "All right, Stefan, you win!" He had seen his father's ruse.

The father smiled as he rose his Nagant and aimed it at Stefan before the boy could react. His eyes went round as he shouted, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" and dropped his gun, before falling like a sack of potatoes, his face making a gentle thud in the earth among the forest ferns. Violet was there, standing in a sombre show of pure-white nakedness, with a bloody knife in her hand!

She looked like some antique Celtic girl fighting a battle in the nude to show her courage, now motionless, with fierce satisfaction in her eyes and blood reddening her blade.

It was no knife. It was the bayonet that Violet had taken from the dead soldier's belt when she and Esther had remained by themselves in front of the house.

Mikhail stood there like a statue, unable to believe his father was gone.

"I sincerely apologize, Mikhail. I had no intention of hurting anyone of you!" Stefan said.

"He... He's dead!" Mikhail blurted out as he gazed at his father, who lay facedown in a pool of blood. "Stabbed through the heart! Dead! Dead!"

"Yes, and I'm sorry, Mikhail, but now you know what it's like to lose a member of the family. This wouldn't have happened if you had been reasonable. But don't you see why my mother wants them as her daughters? I myself would be very happy to have these two girls as my sisters! Let's turn something evil into something good!"

As he floated above his own cadaver, Sergei's soul began to cry and begged God to forgive him. Stefan was right! Sergei felt a hand on his spiritual shoulder and heard an all-encompassing voice. "I forgive you, Son. Now come to the light..."

Mikhail hesitated. He felt like taking revenge upon the girls, but deep down, he was a good boy. He turned back and said he needed help to get his father buried, that he needed to get the parish priest. The said parish priest was in his town house, witnessing the gang-rape of his wife and his daughter at the hands of drunk Czechs.

After Mikhail was gone, Stefan helped both girls get dressed, while avoiding looking at the dead man. He briefly signed himself. Afraid that Mikhail would change his mind and return with a bunch of friends, Stefan said a brief prayer for the departed soul of Sergei, then led both barefoot girls in a walk through the forest he knew well, toward his home.

The girls, who had each been cruelly abused, weren't exactly walking fast. Stefan helped them and also took a long circle around the usual route, afraid that Mikhail would have changed his mind and would be waiting for him with several friends in ambush. It was a long walk, at the end of which both girls had bleeding feet, but then, as the sun sank near the horizon and the autumn sky turned bright orange and the tall pines seemed on fire, casting long shadows, Stefan knew the rivulet he was crossing, while both Violet and Esther winced in pain as the water woke up the fire in their bleeding feet. They were now only a couple hundred metres from home!

"Stop right there, Stefan! Drop your rifle!"

It was Mikhail. Stefan had no doubt he had friends with him. A sorry lot!

Mikhail showed himself, twenty yards away, his rifle aimed straight at Stefan and the girls. Sure enough, several boys showed up beside him, each one taller and stronger than Stefan. Five or six of them! Esther screamed and began to cry. Violet looked at them like a panther looking at prey.

Stefan spoke: "Mikhail! Look into your heart and ask yourself: would God approve of what you are about to do?"

"Stop preaching, little boy!" Evgeny snarled. Evgeny was the oldest one. He also had a rifle, like two of the others.

"Nice boring sermon, Stefan! Go cry to mommy!" said another tall boy as he advanced on the girls, who both recoiled, but two other boys had moved to cut them off.

Before long, the bad boys surrounded the trio and Violet heard their command. Disrobe! Esther predictably shook her head and was soon grabbed. Evgeny let out a loud "ooohh!" when Esther's breasts made a sudden appearance amid her shrill screams and the sharp fabric-tearing sounds. While Stefan got beaten up and the valiant boy defended himself with surprising strength and courage.

"Ya'll have to kill me!" Stefan said as he punched back and one of the taller boys hit the ground, but another boy grabbed him from behind.

Violet ran. Two boys went after her, including Mikhail, who dropped his own rifle to run faster, obsessed as he was by the prospect of stripping the girl naked and know again how good it feels to become a prisoner inside her. Mikhail was the first on her.

He shoved Violet down on a bed of fallen birch leaves, and he leaped upon her, and met a burning, searing pain in his abdomen. The other boy looked at the scene, and stopped as he watched Mikhail's body grow limp and lifeless on Violet, who now struggled under Mikhail's weight and after some efforts, freed herself from his body. As she stood up, there was a large smear of fresh blood on her light yellow dress. She was holding a bloody blade; a bayonet! They had not seen she was armed in their blinding lust!

The boy screamed and ran away.

Esther heard a motherly voice. She realized that the boys around her had morphed into statues of stupor and she saw a woman holding an old-fashioned rifle. Stefan picked up his rifle and aimed it at the four boys, none of whom dared to make a move.

"Aren't you ashamed, Roman? Simeon? Boris? And you, Alexandri, the son of such a honest man? Run now and I won't say anything! Run or I'll shoot you like rabbits!"

The boys ran away. One boy remained, the fifth one, unarmed and showing the way to where Mikhail had run after the other girl. When she saw the country woman and Esther crying in her arms, Violet broke down, dropped the bayonet and ran at the mother to join Esther. The mother, tears in her eyes, comforted her newfound daughters...

"It's all right! You can stay here! You're safe! Maroushka knows what war does to girls, but now you're safe!"

Stefan found Mikhail. He had a deep stabbing wound in his gut and looked at him in panic as he quickly lost blood. He needed a doctor, and quick, but the doctor was in town and the town was being sacked. Mikhail was going to die. Stefan felt sorry for him. If only he had chosen to be honest and righteous, he would still be alive. Now he was about to join his father. Stefan told the other boy it was no use. Both boys signed themselves, and Mikhail screamed in terror, causing even more blood to gush out of his wound.

"I'm sorry, Mikhail, but there's no way to go fetch Doctor Strabovski; the town is being overrun by Bolsheviks. Pray to God and ask His forgiveness, for what you were about to do was pure evil!"

"I'll kill you! I swear you ain't gonna get away with--Aaaaaahhh!"

Both boys signed themselves as the dying farm boy kept screaming in agony. Darkness crept around them. Death was there to reap another soul. Stefan and the repenting boy remained with Mikhail and ignored his raging threats, while Stefan kept telling him to pray and repent. They made sure Mikhail didn't die alone while Maroushka took Esther and Violet home. Mikhail's dog showed up and whimpered near him while licking his wound. Sensing the tragedy, the brave dog began to howl, and would sit there, howling, guarding the corpse the whole night and the next morning, keeping the crows away until some neighbours fetched the dead boy for a proper burial.

Back home, Stefan found some happiness as he looked at the famished girls while they ate some comforting bortsch. Esther wearing a Sunday dress from his dead sister's closet, Violet wearing a clean dress from the same closet. He now had two elder sisters, who would share the old bedroom of the one he had lost. He took Violet's hand and smiled.

"I'll go make some hot chai," he told his new sisters.

***

Major Sidorov's Thoughts...

It was a fine morning with the breeze carrying autumn's forest scents. After the burial and breakfast, we decided, me and Sergeant Novák, that there was no point in going to town to see what was happening. The attack was highly probable and it could only come from our own brigade. There was enough stored food in the house to last us for nearly a week! And we decided to spend a few days here in this mansion, to take time out from the war with our lovely little harem!

Soon enough, with the front being broken by our brigade's defection, the front would move to us. But what about the rest of our Division? Did the other brigade remain loyal to the Czar? If so, they were going to quickly retreat east and then run into us! Their cavalry first.

I told Novák that starting tomorrow, we would be wise to set a proper perimeter toward the west and look out for enemy cavalry. "They have hussars, Cossack hussars," I told the First Sergeant, "and as we both know, cavalrymen make nice targets for hunters in the forest, but for to-day, let's have some fun with our young ladies! We should ask them their names. After all, we haven't been properly introduced, what do they know of us beside our cocks and the fact we're Bolsheviks?"

Novák grinned.

The blonde lady I had seen in Petersburg looked lovely in the white dress she had been allowed to don. She was Princess Anna Nikolaievna Yusupov, the second-born daughter of the late Prince Nikolai Yusupov, a rich noble of ancient birth.

"He was massacred in his own hotel in Petersburg when the Revolution broke out," Princess Anna said, with sadness, using a voice that showed a musical contrast against her grim tale. "Massacred by angry proletarians, shortly after sending me away with both my sisters. We three wound up here after a long flight fraught with dangers, here, where the English protected us in exchange of what you can guess, but they kept my young sisters' virtue intact, until you showed up!"

There was little doubt as to who her sisters were. Both youngsters.

"So I raped a princess last night!" Sergeant Novák ejaculated as he cast a triumphant gaze at the darkest brunette, who looked down in shame, her face blushing. Her sister hugged her, both girls looked at, by a wide circle of no less than twenty unwashed soldiers, as they cried together, their forbidden beauty hinted at by their dusk rose dresses. The other sister was two shades of brown lighter and half the men liked her better since she had a bit more breasts and hips a bit fuller. Although the more petite one was known to generate huge loads of semen and made nice warm whimpers when fucked.

They were prompted to say their names and spat them out amid their sobs. The little lady with the browner hair and fuller hips was Lyubov, meaning Love. The truly petite one with black hair was Snezhana, thus called due to her skin being as white as pure snow.

The rest of the womenfolk were forcibly invited to kindly introduce themselves, which they did as they preferred not to face our wrath and liked to remain clothed.

The blonde nun I had raped was Sister Irina, born to a rich noble family of Moscow.

The strikingly beautiful girl with dark hair was Sofia, the daughter of a Count whose country mansion had been sacked and set ablaze by an angry mob of moujiks. She had escaped through sheer luck.

"Lucky for us!" said the heavy-set soldier as he blew her a kiss in the most fashionable gesture he could muster -- a gross attempt.

The two other ladies were Irina and Nadia, both of them noble socialites in Petersburg before the Revolution, now members of our impromptu harem.

"I suggest we take them out for a stroll in the forest!" I said, using the social tone of an Englishman proposing a friendly game of croquet on a sunny day.

"That's a grand idea!" Novák said, his eyes on Snezhana. "Let's have an English-style picnic under the sun!"

Things were organized with military efficiency. Food was taken and carried and the crying miladies, all seven of them, were kindly escorted outdoors, knowing full well what was in store for them. We wanted to see their tits and their butts and how bright their skin would be under the sun; and they knew it!

We only walked to a nearby clearing, with a pond where ducks enjoyed the quiet of the day.

"All right! Let's begin the fiesta!" Sergeant Novák shouted as he grabbed Snezhana and hastily tore open her dress-top, and since she wore no corset as she wasn't allowed to, the adolescent girl had no choice but cry and make little fists where grinning Czechs held her wrists while Novák devoured her maiden's tits with his mad slobbering tongue.

"Noo! Please don't!!!" Sofia begged amid the clearing, the place now full of female lamentations, as the heavy-set soldier ripped her mauve-blue dress open and gave a rush of fresh air to her white breasts, which he pressed his mug against and sucked avidly, engulfing one in his mouth while Sofia screamed her life out!

Sister Irina was grabbed by me and two others! I felt suddenly fascinated by the notion of sex with a blonde! She was from a noble family and this was enough for her breasts to make me breathless when I roughly uncovered them as the entire place was filled by sounds of ripping fabric, shows of panicked female flesh and pointless screaming, head-shaking tantrums and powerless rage in the form of tight little fists where wrists were cruelly restrained.

What followed was predictable. My cock was out like a sword of punishment for Sister Irina, whose buttocks and legs were bright under the high sun as I threatened her into being a good cowgirl. I laid down on the grass and she rode me while facing away from me, crying, and forced-kissed by a kneeling soldier who gently hugged her as she felt my penetration and bitterly sobbed as I took her waist and began to move her to my liking while the lad kept kissing her.

I heard the rapes happening around me, recognized Anna's lovely voice amid the cries and whimpers and loud grunts, as I enjoyed the priceless view of Sister Irina's butt where I kept her moving on my lap, holding her taut waist as I kept impaling her on my mast of power. I felt her tight and hot around me, I also felt her feet against my thighs and congratulated myself for having thought of it and dropped my trousers all the way down to my knees, my long boots preventing them to go any further down.

"You're a very good fuck, Irina! I love your golden hair under the sun! Makes your whole back ablaze with gold!"

Sister Irina wasn't too flattered by my compliment. She kept sobbing while the lad who had forced-kissed her now stood tall near her and masturbated, and another soldier did likewise, this one much older.

I felt a most pleasing tension around my balls as my cock promptly reached its boiling point inside her, with the pressure from my hands around her waist, the sight of her back covered by her long hair leading to the insane show of her buttocks, her skin suave in ungodly scent and her feet keeping their lovely little pressure against my thighs as I enjoyed this act of fucking a noble girl.

"Too bad your father isn't here to watch this!" I jested as I kept her riding me and sailed into the land of no return. It was wonderful to feel the twitch of my cock inside her tight vagina as I made her ride me like my own personal slave, while her face and her breasts moved between two soldiers who now masturbated like demented satyrs above her.

I erupted with flourish! She received the sperm from us three, all at once! Her pussy got flooded by my eruption as I felt weightless and forgot where I was, this while the lad and the grown man uttered their bursting satisfaction as she received their pungent tribute on her face and tits!

"Oaah God! Why did you abandon me?" the defiled nun said as we ejaculated inside and upon her.

I got up to my feet, and drank out of a flask of vodka while I basked in my sunlit victory and contemplated the sin-filled scenery around me. It was a bucolic debauchery where all the young miladies had been urgently stripped naked and were now receiving the urgent assaults from all fifty-six soldiers!

The heavy-set soldier was naked from the waist down and, his bright eyes silently telling the tale of his consumed pleasure inside her, he now smiled down on Sofia and watched a fellow rape her in a surreal scene where the powerful beauty of her buttocks kept getting flattened against the equally smiling soldier who had the lucky spot of using her pussy while feeling the softness of her bottom in repeat collisions, where he held the milk-white crease of her hips and enjoyed the unthinkable occurring to his full benefit.

Sofia rested on her knees and elbows and her graceful long hair of night gave shimmering plays of light following the rhythm of her whimpering defilement. Her whimpers were indeed something to hear! A line-up of ten men were waiting for the privilege of mounting her, masturbating and their eyes locked on her in anticipation.

The man cursed as he ejaculated inside her, and kissed her butt before promptly leaving his spot to the next soldier, who eagerly knelt behind her and gave Sofia his deepest homage in what began to look like a contest to see who would fuck her the hardest and deepest. And perhaps make her secretly enjoy it. Given the sobbing sounds she made while kissing the ferns, Sofia was far from enjoying the forced sex.

Both youngsters were whimpering nearby. Snezhana was smiled-down on by Novák as he smoked a cigarette while watching her prolonged defilement as she screamed under each new man. Novák had told me he had enjoyed her on all fours, but the men, as I could see, were stylish enough to use her the good old way where they could kiss her, lick her face and ask her plainly if she liked what they did, all this while properly pounding her in their unrestrained sin.

Her sister Lyubov was being given the same brand of brutal love by a second squad, while the light-brown-haired ladies were just as Eve-naked and were used as supernumeraries by the Czech hunters, who felt they were both beautiful, but looked weirdly plain next to the five others! So they used them for breast-sucking and skin-kissing entertainment once they had spent a load inside one of the five others. It was a beautiful abuse!

"We clearly hit the jackpot, Captain!" I told Novák while offering him my flask of vodka, and he had enough good taste to take the flask and walk to the group of men holding Princess Anna floating in their midst, spread-eagled in their arms, while taking their fun turns between her noble-white legs and she kept fiercely protesting...

"I forbid you! You, ahh-naaoooo! Have no rii-ight! I'm... A Princess! Ancient-aahaaa, lineage! Naaoooo! Aaha--noooo Forbid yaaa! aaaa-ha aaahaa..."

Anna was well-fucked, naked and floating amid the men, her breasts a perfect sunny sight where they jiggled along with the harsh thrusts she kept receiving while her angry face seemed even more beautiful! Her long golden hair kept swaying along with her raging protests and the strokes from a soldier who soon died inside her, only to be replaced by another man from the rank-and-file, or a Corporal, who said she was "only good to fuck and receive sperm from the Bolshevik soldiers now that the wind had turned! Uugghh!"

And the man would remain silent, his face stern as he punished the fallen princess and his gaze drank her captured beauty while she kept protesting, kept whimpering and saying she was a princess of ancient birth while the men mocked her and Captain Novák poured vodka on her breasts!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA YYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!" uttered the soldier as he erupted inside her.

"Come on, Major! Your turn! Give her the privilege of an officer!"

I couldn't refuse such an invitation. My cock was still half-flaccid from the earlier play inside Sister Irina, but I stoically masturbated where I now stood between Anna's legs and above her vulva while she kept writhing and squirming and screaming threats out of her angry face, which only made her prettier to me!

"You're very pretty when you're angry, Milady!"

"Go to hell, Major! aahaa naaoooo... Aaaa I'll have you hanged! Skinned alive!"

Those winged words were also for Novák, who was bent over her, lost in the act of licking vodka off her breasts, the gorgeous tits shimmering under the sun, with slobber mixed with the liquor as the breeze brought me the fermented whiff of it, and I kept masturbating over the golden triangle of her ever-protesting vulva where she kept squirming and yelling threats amid the thick press of men, amid their sweat, their mocking laughter and their jeers. This was exactly the fantasy I had about her four years ago when I imagined the soldiers suddenly attacking the gentry and grabbing all the miladies before gang-raping them! Which we could physically do. There were thousands of us parading on that day; all tied up by our collective fear of the sacred Czar we had been sworn to serve and protect.

As I pictured her getting urgently undressed by us in front of her then-alive father, I masturbated myself into a state of glorious stiffness, which Anna soon received the full benefit of as she yelped and screamed in anger, knowing it was me inside her! I grabbed her waist and began to pound her in unrestrained abandon, with immense glee, knowing she was of such a high rank!

"How do you like this, Milady? aaahh ahh ahhrrrr! I'm a Major promoted from the--ahh ranks!"

I basked in her whimpering protests, and especially loved it whenever she repeated she was a princess of old lineage, while I greatly exerted my own humble lineage inside her. Deep to the hilt! Raping her like a true soldier! I was barking at her! "Ahrrr aahrr ahrr ahhrrr aaahrr ahhrrr!" Novák was still sucking her tits, partially hiding the tumult of her shaking head of blonde hair from me, but I saw enough of her distress for it to add to my sense of victory as I felt the unwillingness of her vaginal contractions! The forced coitus was lasting delightfully long!

"Wrap your legs around me, Milady! Wrap them around me! Say you love being raped by the troops! Say it!" I ordered as I felt her inner contractions increasing where I'd soon be forced to surrender myself.

"Go to hell! Nooo oooooooh naaahhhh!"

She squirmed and protested, but the men around her made her wrap her legs around me while Novák was now taunting her and I suddenly saw her slobbered tits, so bright and shimmering under the sun! Victory! She was ours!

"I love your breasts, Milady!" I uttered as I felt the overwhelming pressure inside her, and then her heels began to buffet against my buttocks as I frantically pounded her in all-out frenzy, feeling her legs wrapped around me and loving the sight of her ever-bobbing head and the ever-moving dance where her distressed breasts were getting touched, kissed and gazed at by the press of jeering men. This and those strikes from her feet behind me...

"Aaaaaah yes yes yes yes YES! WE WON!!! UUUUGHGHH!!!"

I exploded inside her! Hard! Violent ropes of sperm that summarized my innermost desire and frustration toward her kind. I filled the place with a my scream of bliss and my voice echoed against the tall pines as she received my pudding from St. Petersburg, my load abolishing the distance between us. She bitterly cried.

I then watched no less than eight men, if not ten or twelve, take their urgent turns inside her, without a single hair of her touching the ground. Novák screamed like a dying man when he emptied his balls inside her. Twice she moaned and failed to escape her own climax! She was just good to fuck! And well-fucked! I could swear she was secretly enjoying this.

We gang-raped her and all the others until the sun filled the sky with bright orange with some scattered clouds slowly turning from a delicate gray into a dark purple gray with streaks of rose.

I would never forget the time, in mid-afternoon, when I sucked Sofia's magic breasts, where she was wet from a forced bath in the pond. Each pearl of water on her skin held a universe of light, the secret of life, as I sucked her wet breasts!

Then the miracle happened. My cock was armed and loaded again! I turned Sofia around and began licking her fantastic butt! I kissed her feet, and watch the heavy-set soldier use her again, on all fours. By the time he was done, my cock was throbbing with lust and madness!

I took this strikingly beautiful girl, from behind, her raven hair nearly covering all her back as I began using her bottom as curves only meant for my selfish pleasure, but Sofia began to moan when I thrust myself inside her and we became one in spite of her youth vs. my growing years. With such raven hair, Sofia struck me as the image of a daughter I could have had with Sumeyye, the best of both worlds--- hair as black as Turkish night, skin as bright as the Russian winter.

I ended up holding her little wrists together and basking in her whimpers while standing on my knees and abandoning myself to the soft repeated collisions with her buttocks as I used her arms as leverage and thus fucked her even deeper! She moaned like crazy, begged me to please stop and called the guards!

"Guards! Guards! Kill this man! Nooo I--this is so well organized!"

And as she spoke, she shuddered! I felt it through her butt, through her wrists where I kept using her arms like reins. She was climaxing... "Guards guards! I'm raped! Come and join them!" she said, demented amid a long series of hot whimpers.

I looked up at the sky and there are no words to aptly describe the mix of my guilt and unreal pleasure as I exploded deep inside Sofia and felt that special place where searing pain meets absolute pleasure. The clouds seemed to dance as Sofia took my load!

In the middle of my bliss, I heard Novak speak.

"We know you love this! Just say you do! Say I do!"

I looked and saw Novák talking to Snezhana, with his tongue, his head buried between her snow-white legs as he kept giving love to her cunt while others were pinning her on the pond's bank, restraining her wrists while taking turns in sucking the small insolence of her breasts. Such a petite girl! Later on, at sunset, I would desperately masturbate over her face and give her breasts the very last drops of my semen; glistening with fiery glow under the all-orange sky.

"We know you love this! Say you do!" I told Sofia mid-afternoon, before watching how the next couple of men also used her on all fours and gave her as many orgasms she did not wish for. My eyes were more than pleased to watch her getting thus used, my gaze following the insisting motions of her breasts under her where her armpits met the overhanging curves of her young bosom, one nipple visible to me. Such a delicate bud of girly flesh, and the storm of war a man would stir just to taste it.

"We know you love this, Milady!" I told Sofia later, before washing her with the pond's water and giving her a long, deeply felt cunnilingus, my nose caressing her raven bush of intimate hair until she begged me to stop before squirting my face and yelling her moaning surrender at the heavens.

The sky where the wind had turned.