Red Sunset

[HistBuff]

Chapter 11: A Komroty's Death

Ivan Sidorov's thoughts...

Once the train had picked up speed and hurried toward Yekaterinburg, I turned in. Sleep deprivation caught up with me. I had confused dreams where Turkish men hunted me down for revenge for dishonouring my wife; where I wanted to run, but somehow my boots were glued to the ground amid a forest of tall Siberian pines and spruces, where Countess Hendrikoff was calling my name, begging for help as a pack of grunting boars surrounded her.

There was a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"We got you!" said a terrible voice in Turkish.

"... Komroty! Komroty! Wake up, Komroty!"

The hand and the voice belonged to Dimitri. Still heavy with slumber, I realized I was in my compartment and it was already daytime. The grey morning found its way in the gap between the earthly purple curtain and the cabin's lone window. Horse hooves with horseshoes were clearly heard on a pavement.

"Komroty Sir! You need to come at once! We're in Yekaterinburg and the local Kommissar's arriving with the escort! Come at once!"

When the hell did Dimitri sleep? He was always there to wake me up.

"My dear Komroty, uh, my dear Dmitri," I said sluggishly as I heavily moved myself and sat on the cabin's bench-seat and smelled some lingering urine from somewhere. "My dear Dmitri, when I'm a General, I'll make you my aide-de-camp!"

"Thank you, Komroty. Here's your tunic. Your peak-cap's right there. You had dropped it on the floor so I've put it back on the hook where you usually leave it. Breakfast will be served at thirty past eight once the grand duchesses will be gone."

Upon hearing the grand duchesses mentioned, I became alive and hastily put on my not-so-well polished boots, then my tunic and my peak-cap while adjusting my belt and the holster housing my trusty Nagant.

The local Kommissar looked even more brigand-like than Rodionov. No wonder he did; he had had two more decades to perfect his art of brigandage, as attested by the silver whiskers and stubs of hair I perceived under his black gold-rimmed peak-cap as I saluted him upon his climbing up and walking in the restaurant car.

The old bastard looked down at my boots, then at my low-carried holster. Then looked at me with contempt.

"Your boots need polishing! And you carry your pistol way too low, komroty." He spoke my rank in a derisive manner.

I reined in my urge to speak and say that a Major was dead because he did carry his pistol as per regulations, that I had better things to do than polishing my boots. I looked back at him and remained silent, standing at attention and waiting for him to return my salute. The bastard finally did.

"Welcome aboard, Komrade, I'm Kommissar Leonid Rodionov. This way, Komrade!"

As Rodionov led the local Kommissar and his men to the grand duchesses, the old bugger kept making remarks at our men's unkempt state, with the usual tone of a self-important colonel who hated being stranded in some garrison in the middle of nowhere. The Soviets seemed to promote this kind of petty, yet ambitious men; such men were predictable, as they'd obey all orders without question, like a good dog hoping for a promotion and a bone.

Much to my surprise, all three grand duchesses were just as neatly dressed as I had first seen them in that stately room in Tobolsk. Nastya was wearing the exact same dress she wore when we played our one game of colorito, except her bobbed hair wore blue ribbons that highlighted its chestnut hue while matching her eyes. I avoided her gaze, and yet it seemed she wanted to look pretty for me. Tatiana looked at me with the same hauteur, but now with more hatred than ever. Olga was lovely in her white dress and I could tell I had missed quite something by spending the whole night in sleep. The elder sister was looking down at the floor, as if she had left something essential down there. Nobody would have suspected that these women had been so ill-used over the last two nights. The old Kommissar nodded and said nothing. He inspected the grand duchesses one by one, carefully studying their features, then he cleared his throat.

"All right, let's take these lovely citizens to their father. The poor bloke must be dying to see them!"

I was happy to be in the background, standing there like a wall-flower as the local guards gathered the grand duchesses and their retinue with the military efficiency of fresh soldiers with properly polished boots. I had seen too much death and gore to care for such silliness. Keeping my revolver clean was all that mattered. I was relieved to see them go, even Nastya. I didn't dare look at her.

Nastya had collapsed and fallen unconscious. She was being carried by Nagorny while the Tsarevitch was feebly walking behind him and leading Ortipo by a leash, while Tatiana was walking harsh and strong in the mud, carrying her own luggage with Nastya's, holding the handles with fierce hands as she kept walking on the muddy ground under a drizzle rain. They had stationed the hansoms farther away on purpose, in order to make the former grand duchesses walk all the way out of the station, and to a clearing circled by tall pines. Tatiana was so tough!

Tatiana carrying her double share of luggage in the mud and walking along with Olga, who strained with her own luggage, while Nagorny carried Nastya effortlessly, was the very last I saw of them, as I stood at attention along with Petia in front of the inner and outer guards. All of us sixty men standing at attention under the drizzle rain for a final salute to our lovely prisoners.

The retinue was still in the train. Another contingent of soldiers were already on their way to take them to the central prison of Yekaterinburg.

***

Ivan Sidorov's thoughts, continued...

At last, it was over. I felt emptiness and a deep sense of loss and sadness upon realizing I would never see Nastya again; unless the Whites won and I'd change sides, which was impossible. I had to think of Sumeyye my beloved.

A hefty meal of sausages with pirojkis and a wonderful day of rest at the best inn of Yekaterinburg, and even a bath, did wonders for me and my morals. I was now sitting in first class on board of a train, on my way for 20 hours of railroad to Moscow, and then on to Petrograd where Sumeyye was waiting for me. I had sent her a telegram so she knew. Perhaps a young lover was comforting her and bucking her against the dinner table like I used to do whenever I was home; she deserved good sex and it would be unfair of me to be angry at her for doing the very thing I so freely did myself.

I liked to imagine her with one of the neighbourhood boys, perhaps little Sergei, who was just about five feet one, her own height, and how he'd lose his virginity inside her. Imagining this made me horny. I loved to think of Sumeyye's small erotic feet and her legs propped up with Sergei's freckled face behind them and his red hair brushing the inside of her pale-olive legs, the kitchen filled with her gentle moans, and his eyes shocked with wonder and his mouth wide open in moans as he'd experience his first lifetime ejaculation inside a woman—my wife, a thirty-year-old Turkish woman who looked as if she were still a schoolgirl!

I sat alone on a bench seat as the train sped through Western Siberia. Across from me sat a Colonel, perhaps fifty years of age and a fair chance for a balding head under his dignified peak-cap with the Soviet blood-red star, with four matching red squares lined up in a show of authority on his collar, his neck slightly fat with a sheen of sweat since this was a warm day. Beside him sat a pretty girl, a brunette who had to be his daughter. I didn't pay much attention to her. I unfortunately didn't have any books with me, so I pretended to fall asleep, but this pesky Colonel kept clearing his throat as a way to remind me, a subordinate officer, not to fall asleep in his august presence.

Then I stared at the window to contemplate the passing landscape—always the same rolling hills of spruces and pine-trees, seen through the window like a speeding, ever-renewed deep spruce-green tapestry—

"Stop looking at my daughter, Komroty!"

I was startled, not expecting him to be so direct, but indeed, his daughter sat right next to the window, her face most pretty against the dark wood-work, while the Colonel sat opposite to me. I couldn't help but notice her pleasing figure with the usual bright skin encased in brown hair that offered a grandiose contrast against a fancy yellow dress, with the Victorian shapes of a corset that contained a pair of perky breasts that naturally drew the eyes of men. I stood up.

"I apologize, Komrade Colonel, and I'm very sorry if I offended you, but I happen to be without books and even without a piece of wood to carve, and as you know, this is a very long train ride. If I can humbly ask you, Komrade, would you lend me a book so I can read?"

The Colonel looked at me, surprised. I felt his daughter's gaze on me. Sumeyye was on my mind.

He began to laugh, quietly at first, then openly. "Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Now that's a change! An officer who actually speaks the truth!"

Then, the Colonel fumbled a bit in his small luggage and produced a book.

"There you go, my young friend," he said as he gave me a book. "By the way, I am Komandir polka (regiment commander) Vladimir Nesterenko, on my way to my hometown, Kiev. And this is Nadja, my daughter!"

I bowed and kissed Nadja's offered hand with the gentlest touch I could muster. She smiled at me, blushed and looked down at her feet. I then formally shook hands with the Colonel and the four bloody squares on his collars as I formally introduced myself.

He then smoked a pipe and I began to read the book. It was written of course written in Russian and its title was "Turkish Delight". Nadja kept looking my way, and it was clear she was doing her best not to burst in laughter. She knew what this book was about. I soon knew it too.

The novel was set in the Crimean war. It was about a young noblewoman from St. Petersburg whose husband was a Major in command of some outpost deep in Caucasus and manned by only 150 soldiers; a fort where she was one of a handful of women. The fort gets attacked by a far superior force of Ottomans. At the end of a two-week siege, the Major knows he's lost, but he doesn't have the nerve to shoot his wife, who is predictably very lovely and young. He shoots himself and soon after, the fort is overrun. Leonida Glebova—that's her name—gets gang-raped by a group of British and Turkish officers while the rest of the Ottoman regiment gang-rape the other women to their death. Leonida ends up as the only survivor and gets nick-named the Turkish Delight. She is also forced to suck the cocks of 300 Ottoman soldiers. After which she can't chew any food and has to be fed through some nutritive porridge; this and more Ottoman semen.

Leonida is sold to a rich Turkish official who owns a harem, where she meets and rivals a fallen Countess who was captured by Georgian pirates on the Black Sea. The rest of the novel goes into sordid details about things such as anal sex, the Countess getting fucked in her three holes at once, and a host of deeply debasing things I care not to mention, such as a fetish about eating a woman's excrement, and other things even more disgusting. After two hours of this sludge, I began re-reading the beginning and the military details about the Crimean war, since this was the part I found most interesting. This and Leonida's initial gang-rape, which was one of the finest erotic scenes I had ever read. I could tell the novel's author had actually partaken to a gang-rape in real life, just like myself.

As I read on, my mind began to wonder. I wished for war's horrors to be behind me. I had heard I had good chances of being promoted to Deputy battalion commander, which was basically the same two-square rank, but with better pay. With any luck, I could have a quiet posting as the second-in-command of some small-town garrison not too far from Petrograd, where I would see my wife often and...

A commotion shook the entire train. It was stopping! Rifleshots tore the serene day.

"What?! How dare they attack us!" the Colonel bellowed, as more and more gunshots broke the day's peace.

Nadja screamed and flung herself into her father's arms. He was himself ghastly white and shaking like a leaf. He clearly had never been in an actual battle.

I looked out the window and saw a dozen soldiers about 100 yards away; and more were coming. A lot more. The enemy, with a paler shade of khaki and peculiar hats, higher than our own garrison caps. White Anti-Bolsheviks. Crouching and shooting and advancing. Gunshots ripping through the air like sharp firecrackers!

"Keep down! How many soldiers defending that train, Colonel?" I asked while pulling my revolver out of its holster.

"Drop your gun, Komroty!"

"Say again?"

"I said, DROP YOUR GUN!"

The Colonel was indeed pointing a Nagant at me, with eyes that told me he would shoot if I did anything other than drop my revolver immediately. I could still have shot him, probably, but my gaze met Nadja and I dropped my revolver and raised my hands. I didn't want to shoot a man right next to his daughter; and I had already shot a man yesterday. More gunshots were heard, some of them coming from our own side as the soldiers on our train were returning fire.

"There are too many of our boys for the soldiers guarding this train. You're as good as our prisoner, Komroty. How did you like my little piece of acting? Did you like the novel too? Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

"It's not funny, Colonel! My wife's waiting for me in St. Petersburg and... and she's Turkish!" I replied as more shots tore the air. Nadja had picked up my own Nagant and was pointing it at me, her breasts under her dress as inaccessible to my touch as the moon. She smiled coldly.

"Would you like me to send her a telegram?" she jested with a cold voice. Gunshots were heard, but only a sorry few from our side.

"It's soon going to be over. There are several Soviet officers on this train, along with some gold bars that was meant to buy supplies and weapons for the wrong cause. I like you, Komroty. From the way you handled your pistol, I can tell you're no recruit and you once served the Czar, but first you'll have to tell us everything you know. Like how many men in the garrison at Yekaterinburg, that sort of thing. My daughter is sweet to look at, but don't be a fool. She has ways to make men talk."

It was indeed over soon.

The Colonel led me outside, where enemy soldiers reverently saluted him. He was their commander! Nadja stood tall next to him. None of the White soldiers dared look at her.

"Meet my men, Komroty!" he bellowed. "Men of the 7th Tatra Rifle Regiment, from the Czech Legion! All of them loyal to me! I'm Colonel Josef Marousek, from Prague, but I have Ukrainian relatives. Nadejda, search him!" he added in his Russian so perfect he had me fooled.

As I stood, my hands always visible to him as he had requested, Nadja's dainty hands began a firm patting journey on my person. She went through my pockets and removed my Swiss Army knife from my uniform tunic.

"I hope you'll serve me hot wine in a cup, now that I have nothing to open a bottle with!" I jested while Nadja's hands seemed to take interest in my buttocks, where they lingered a great deal of time. Then her hands moved to the front and felt the stiffening of my cock as I began to fantasize about her father's men going into mutiny and gang-raping her while singing in their tongue, which was of course unintelligible to me. "You must be beautiful in the nude, Nadja," I whispered as she stood very close to me, positioning herself between me and her father so he couldn't see where her hands were.

"Search him, I said!" her father said without looking at us, his attention focused on the captured train.

Inside the train, the victorious troops began to jeer while women screamed and Soviet men protested or begged for their life. A few gunshots were heard and then the women screamed louder and shriller. I would soon learn that there were about thirty Red soldiers on the train, while there were at least three hundred Czech soldiers.

The surviving defenders, some of them wounded, were pulled outside the train and then summarily shot as traitors to the Russian Empire. The sound of that sharp volley sent a chill down my spine and my erection died inside my uniform's trousers. They were only keeping me alive to gain information out of me. But Nadja seemed to like me, or perhaps her inappropriate touching was a ruse. She had taken my wallet and was counting how many rubbles I had.

"They clearly pay you cheap!" she said, ignoring the women's screams inside the train while Czech soldiers were gathering all male passengers outside, and shot some of them on the spot. "You'd make just as much on our side as a Sergeant!" Nadejda added, ignoring the horror.

A handful of girls were pulled outside the train, civilians wearing a young lady's dress and short day gloves, along with female personnel in their khaki tunics and skirts from the administration or communications service, whose trip to a leave had been cut short by tragedy. Each of these girls was surrounded by a pack of grinning Czech suitors.

One caught my attention with her cascades of curly golden hair as she looked all around her in panic while a junior officer cupped her breasts through her blue-green travel dress and she screamed, "NIIET! NIIIIET! AAAAH AAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH-NNIIIIIET!!!"

"Leave my niece alone, you filthy pigs! Leave her or I'll have y..." Pow-Pww!!!

It was a Major who had been pulled out and protested at the abuse of his niece. He was now lying face down on the long grass, shot twice through the heart by a smiling officer, now putting back a German Mauser pistol in its holster of Czech leather.

There was a grim concerto of tearing fabrics as Soviet uniforms and travel dresses were ripped open! The young lady with curly blonde hair lost her cute round hat as she screamed at the top of her despair. "Uncle Yuriiiiii! Uncle-- aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA NNIIIIET! Niet! Niet!"

Her perky breasts were lovely to look at with delicate brown nipples that danced in a milky show of pale boobs under the sun, soon buried under a forest of jeering hands as the Czechs around her whistled and said things I understood the drift of without knowing the language. "Sovětská děvka!" "Sovětská děvka!" I heard many times as they stripped her out of her dress and soon out of her gown upon finding she wore no corset. The Colonel told me they were calling her a "Soviet tramp".

The military girls were urgently stripped out of their uniforms, their young breasts offering a debauchery that grotesquely looked both fitting and out of place amid the horny soldiers. The Soviet tunics were ripped wide open as girls kept shrieking, their hair was flying loose as their garrison caps fell on the grass and khaki skirts were pulled down with raging hands as the surrounding Czechs grew even hornier at the sight of their hairy triangles in the south of their suddenly-nude hips, where their milky curves offered an impromptu dance amid their screams and the men's victorious jeers and grunts and catcalls.

That blonde niece whose uncle lay dead was Eve-naked amid the jeering troops; naked except for her brown day gloves and her shoes. She was bent over and summarily raped by the junior officer leading her pack of admirers. She fell silent as she suffered what was most likely her deflowering. She indeed was a maiden. Her little gloved fists were clenched with all her strength as she suffered the worst fate that could befall a woman.

The other girls, naked or half-naked, were all laid down like spring flowers on the grass, with some of them similarly bent over, and then of course, raped urgently under the bright sunny day. One of the administration's girls was still wearing her regulation khaki skirt; they had tucked it right up her waist and her stockinged thighs were now forced to a rough brushing with a Czech uniform while her breasts were urged into an acceleration of jiggling as the soldier, his ass hairy and trousers down at his knees, was feeding her the first strokes of her random encounter with enemy forces.

I heard hooves on the grass and, upon looking where it came from, I discerned a troop of cavalry riding parallel to the forest line and headed toward us. As they got closer, I noticed they had long hair hanging out under their dark busbies, the sun catching hair of various shades ranging from gold to black silk along with the hussars' diminutive build. Women! Female cavalry, all thirty of them!

They soon halted near the train, where they saluted the Colonel.

"Late again, Lieutenant! What's your excuse this time?"

"We're never late for what's important, Sir!" the Cossack officer replied in a familiar tone as she dismounted. Her Russian had the accent I had heard from men of the southern Don country. I knew therefore that I was looking at a troop of Cossack girls in uniform.

"YOU WILL REGRET THIS! LAY YOUR HANDS OFF ME!" yelled a voice I knew well. Rodionov!

"Niet! Please, niet! I'm with him!" Sonja suddenly said, pointing at me as she recognized me and hoped I would save her. It was Sonja indeed, with her blonde hair in braids and her neat garrison cap, her slim hourglass figure in her small-size Bolshevik uniform with the lone red square on her collar that proclaimed she was a junior officer in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was looking at me as her one last hope.

I stood there and looked down. I was a prisoner myself. And yet I secretly wished to see her forcibly undressed under the sun, and then raped under the serene sky. I was wishing even more strongly that a larger Bolshevik force would show up and the tables would then be turned... and each of these pretty hussars would become fuck fodder for the Red Army, and I would then be the first man inside Nadja as she'd get gang-raped in front of her condemned father.

"Don't be a fool, Komroty! I'd never take Nadja where she'd be in danger," the Colonel said, staring at me with ice-cold eyes of a steely blue.

Kommissar Rodionov kept protesting as soldiers forced him down on his knees while others grabbed Sonja and began ripping at her uniform as she filled the air with screams while calling my name... "Ivan! Ivan! Niet! Niet! Don't let them! Remember our time together!!!"

I did nothing and watched as the pack of grinning Czechs forced her tunic open, sending brass buttons in the grass, and ripped her under-shirt wide open as she seemed to make a writhing dance in their midst as the sun-filled magic of her breasts came into view, a glorious play of perky tits, which I had tasted myself in Tobolsk. I couldn't believe this was happening! Violence and rape kept following me wherever I went. And one of my wildest fantasies was happening before my very eyes. Sonja, raped by the White Army.

"The tramp!" I heard Nadja say with a hiss that did not bode well for Sonja. She shouted something in Czech and some of the soldiers around Sonja smiled at her, while Sonja was made topless and stripped of her rank, her bare torso with her pushed-out treasures hoovering amid them and soon a prisoner of their collective lust, the sunlight began showing those boobs with a sheen of slobber amid all those hands, while the entire train resonated with shrill female screams as hundreds of Czechs were now busy gang-raping the prettier passengers; the field echoed with the crying despair of the girls being raped outside. A small platoon was guarding some fifty kneeling, unarmed men next to a car within which the rapes sounded the most intense. I noticed that many of those kneeling men, whether in uniform or in civilian clothes, had a raging erection that pushed their trousers into a clear statement.

"Lieutenant Anika, you and your girls can have those men before we process them!" said the Colonel.

"Aye Aye, Sir! What about this Red officer? He's a bit old, but..."

"This one's mine, bitch!" Nadja replied, putting her hand on my shoulder and thus marking me as her property. I felt a hot surge of lust as I realized I was soon going to fuck the Colonel's daughter and I found myself mentally debating which position I would like best to have her in.

Rodionov kept loudly protesting while the Czechs freed Sonja's feet out of her boots and finished stripping her naked with military efficiency. A Sergeant was already lying down on top of her as she screamed her life out and tried with all her might to jerk herself out of their clutches, but they made fun of her efforts as they restrained all her limbs on the grass. The Czech Sergeant was soon pounding Sonja, who fell silent under him, barring her whimpers.

"I'LL HAVE YOU SHOT! ALL OF YOU!!!" Rodionov barked.

"Colonel, Sir," I said, "this man has touched and looked at Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanova in a very inappropriate way during the trip where they moved the grand duchesses from Tobolsk to Yekaterinburg. If you trust my word, Sir, I'd like to request my revolver so I can shoot the bugger through the head and quiet him down for good. He's quite loud and I'm tired of hearing him."

Much to my surprise and wonder, I felt my Nagant in my hand again! The Colonel trusted me, even as I stood near his daughter!

Rodionov became as white as a ghost as he saw me pointing my Nagant at him while the Czechs walked away, leaving him alone in my line of fire about 20 yards away. As good as point-blank.

"Captain Ivan Sidorov! This is treason! You don't mean to..."

POw!

My bullet told him I did mean to as it ripped through his brain and left a wider hole behind his skull before striking the car's black wall behind him, where it joined a squad of Czech bullet impacts.

"Fascinating that you're using the old-world rank instead of calling me Komroty! The Komroty dies today!" I said as Rodionov fell like a lifeless doll, face first in the grass, soon in a pool of blood next to his fallen peak-cap, this black cap as if made of gold and shadow in the sunlight, where he somehow twitched and found the energy to turn his head and look where Sonja was now naked and getting raped hard and stiff by a Corporal, where the Czechs kept her spread-eagled and began the process of using her in descending order of rank and seniority, while a smiling Sergeant smoked a cigarette.

Rodionov whispered something and died before this Corporal uttered a long groan in Sonja's face as he relieved himself.

I handed my revolver back to Colonel Marousek, presenting it handle first. He could have easily taken it and shot me. I was showing trust and returning the favour.

"I surrender myself to you, Sir! I'll tell you all you wish to know."

As I spoke, my heart grew heavy. Sumeyye! Would I ever see her again?

"Spoken like a gentleman! You ring true every time I test you! Your weapons will be returned to you shortly, Captain!" he replied while taking my Nagant.

The train was still loud with female screams. The orgy would be going strong for hours. Or until the Colonel would decide to leave. From the look of it, the Czech Legion had taken control of this region about 250 verstes West of Yekaterinburg.

The Cossack hussars were now upon the male prisoners. Much to my delight, some of these women had taken their boots off along with their tight hussar trousers, offering their bushes of pubic hair in plain view under this gorgeous sky, along with their butts. They were all young, so the scene was pleasant to watch.

The other half of the hussar troop had remained fully clothed, Lieutenant Anika among them. They had their pistols out and ordered a row of fifteen kneeling men to start licking the cunts of the other fifteen girls, who stood right in front of them.

The terrified men began their tongue duty. Before long, the girls were all moaning while their peers kept a pistol pointed at the men's head, this while the other male prisoners looked at the scene, both puzzled and horrified, where they remained under the watch of the twenty-strong squad, which I noticed was made up of older soldiers and young lads, and that's when I understood I was looking at a half-platoon composed of sodomites. Those Czechs were actually waiting for the girls to finish their business before ass-fucking those men! And this was taking place near the place where the corpses of fifteen to twenty Soviet soldiers lay dead, with the first crows cautiously approaching.

"Hey! This man bit me down there!"

POw!

The accused man fell down on the grass and lost a great deal of blood out of a hole in his skull, where a Cossack had shot him before he could say anything in his defense.

"The next man I catch biting will be quartered!" Anika barked while pointing at the horses, who were quietly grazing some distance away while the orgy raged on inside and around the train. Many of the surviving Red officers now deeply regretted having had their wife, daughter or niece coming over in this war-torn part of Russia.

"Noo! No not this! No negroes! No negroes!" bawled a girl inside the train. She was about to be raped by one or more porters as the train staff was joining in, siding with the victors. She sounded very young. Very Russian too.

Another porter was outside, now in the deepest of all ecstasies as he raped the maiden with the curly golden hair, the dead Major's niece, on the grass where she was down on all fours—She unwillingly, yet freely offered the forbidden curves of her milk-white buttocks, along with the virginal lines of her legs, under the negro's sunlit face as her face slid on the grass along with his unrestrained, grunting strokes. He kept her wrists together in the small of her back and she kept whimpering and protesting...

"Too big! Too big! Please! Take my pussy instead, nooo! AAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa It hurts!!! Nooo!" the maiden wailed as she was being Africanized under the Siberian sun, the negro grinning down on the lovely vastness of her butt as the porter lost a colony of frothing slobber and yelled, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" as he exploded inside the young lady passenger, flooding her butt-hole with a satisfaction that could only be conjectured.

Sonja was still being raped by the Czech troops next to Rodionov's corpse. The Colonel now stood nearby and began to masturbate.

***

Nadja led me away and into the forest. After a few paces in, we found ourselves alone. She sank down on her knees and swiftly undid my trousers. I loved the moment when my stiff erection met her steel-blue eyes, where her eyebrows were raised as she took a gentle hold of it and began kissing it.

"Stand here, Captain! Quiet! If you do it well, you might live!"

I didn't like the way she talked to me. This was a girl who liked to give commands. She knew I could easily overpower her and run, even kill her. What then? Run? Whereto? I'd be soon caught by their cavalry. No. As far as I could tell, she and her father were trusting me. Astonishingly so! So they were good judges of men, for I would never harm a woman, and certainly not when she was giving me sexual favours!

"Yes, Ma'am! At your service, Ma'am!"

"Don't speak unless you're spoken to!" and as she spoke, she gently bit me. This was a warning. I was liking her less and less. "Do you really think I'd be stupid enough to go out here alone with you? Trust my words when I tell you there's a sniper right behind you! Don't turn around. You won't see him, but he sees you! His rifle is aimed at you! Now, slave, lie down on the ground!"

I did what she said, going against my very nature as I prefer to dominate a woman in bed. As I laid myself down on the forest bed, amid last year's decomposing leaves and a myriad of twigs and ferns, Nadja watched me like a hawk. Was she bluffing about the sniper? Perhaps. I could still hear the lamentations and the jeering from the train, but it was more like a quiet rumour among the tall spruces. The scent was earthly with clear spruce fragrances. No more whiffs of death and gunpowder.

As I watched her, she stood tall over me, enjoying her vantage point as a girl who wasn't all that tall herself. Nadja smiled down on me, clearly a girl who loved being the dominatrix. She showed no sign of undressing herself, much to my disappointment. However, she bent over and her hands gathered around her shoelaces where she slightly lifted the hem of her sun-yellow dress. Her long brown hair overhung around her lowered head as she undid and removed her ankle-high leather shoes. She was in a most vulnerable position. Was she bluffing? What would be my prospects if I attacked her? Not good. The Cossack horsewomen would swiftly catch up with me. Her father clearly liked me. This was a lucky break, without mentioning the fact I was getting intimate with his daughter. I chose to lay still and not spoil my good fortune.

But what about Sumeyye? I would most likely be officially reported as either dead or missing in action. Sumeyye would be allowed a monthly pension as per Soviet regulations, and since Rodionov was dead and no word would transpire about my changing sides, she'd be safe enough, even respected as an officer's widow. But she'd be grieving. I was the only man she ever loved! However, my high moral duty was to fight for the right side. Nastya! How could I not fight for her? Countess Hendrikoff had said, when we were together in a similar spruce forest, that without the nobility, the people would be lost without anything to dream of, like a rudder-less boat. She was right. And this was my chance to redeem my soul in the face of God. When the Whites would win, and I knew they would, then I'd come back to Sumeyye. Then perhaps I'd meet Nastya again.

Nadja finished removing her socks. I whistled as I saw her feet! I loved this dainty aspect of Nadejda! My erection sprung back to life upon seeing these feet with some earth highlighting the soft grace of her white skin.

"Now, slave, kiss my feet!"

I obeyed in absolute trance. I crawled at her feet and covered them with kisses. Feverishly! She sensed I was too obedient and ordered me to lie back and be still! The little devil! I rebelled. This was too much for me. She was bluffing about that sniper. How could I have fallen for such a cheap trick?

In an instant, I had grabbed her legs and caused her to fall down on the forest bed. She yelped with surprise. I was upon her! Now she was under me and I began to forced-kissing her and cupped one of her breasts through her dress and corset. "Get off me!" Nadja thundered. I laughed.

"You were bluffing about that sniper. Nice try! What?!"

Nadja had just whistled loud and sharp.

A heavy hand was upon my shoulder and someone very strong lifted me off Nadja. Next thing I knew, I was restrained amid two, no three thickly built men, tall men whose faces were olive skin with pitch-black mustaches. One of them punched me hard in the liver and I dropped to a fetal position on the ground while noticing the exotic aspect of their Ottoman-style uniforms. Turks!

"Don't hurt him any more, Ibrahim!" Nadja commanded. "He's got the point."

I sure did. There were four of these Turkish gorillas. And I was in a world of pain thanks to Ibrahim's powerful liver punch. As I slowly caught my breath, I was in no need to taste some more of the same. Each of these men looked as strong and powerful as Boris, in a taller Ottoman version.

"You deeply disappoint me, Ivan. You left me no choice but to call my lawful eunuchs. Meet Ibrahim, Mahmoud, Mustafa and Ahmet. All of them devoted to me. Now lie down and be still! I wanted to undress, but you need to earn the right to see me."

As she spoke, Nadja got down on me. Crouching down, she pulled my khaki trousers down my legs and freed my half-flaccid cock. I was a bit uneasy knowing her four eunuch guards were standing there, but her hands were firm and compelling enough, and her tongue was circling the head of my cock, which soon surged and became a mast of lust. She then sucked it just two or three seconds, long enough to give me a taste of what she was capable of, yet so short it was tantalizing.

She then raised her yellow dress and climbed on me. I felt her small weight against me, the inside of her thighs and the fabric of her petticoat while her hands got lost under her dress. I felt her as she grabbed my cock and guided it.

The penetration came. I looked at her fully clothed bosom and hated the fact that I couldn't see those perky breasts that tantalized me under her bourgeois dress, where a high top covered her all the way to her throat, with vertical white and gold stripes that seemed to mock me, barring my view while still hinting at glorious shapes that induced the urge to rip her clothes off and make her my bitch.

As her vagina imprisoned me inside her wet heat, as she began to move herself and whimper, I gently took her slim waist and took the whole thing in stride as we became one. I loved the feel of her. She leaned above me, reached further down and kissed me while imprisoning my face with the wild scent of her long hair as she breathed her whimpers into me, and I cupped her buttocks through her dress and petticoat while she further exerted herself on my impaling cock and her eyes looked into mine, hot-blue and wild, with lights of domination in them. "You're mine!" Nadja silently said through her powerful gaze as she whimpered into my own breath.

My hands got drunk with the sweeping curves of her ass. She was fucking me fully clothed, which was tantalizing to the utmost, and yet there was something powerfully erotic in this. This was my first time having sex with a woman who was still fully clothed. My hands nonetheless found their way under her dress, and soon enough, I was caressing her thighs, then the soft vastness of her ass! Her flesh yielded under my fingers! Her skin was so ungodly soft! Nadja was giving me her softer side and I loved this!

"You're very pretty, Nadja! I love fucking you!"

"Shut up, slave! I told you not to speak unless you're spoken to!" she replied while impaling herself on me. "And take those hands off my bare skin! You haven't earned the right yet!"

Not wishing for another encounter with Ibrahim and his fists, I did as I was told. This deflated some of my erection inside her. She must have sensed it, for she then said, "You may touch my bosom as you want, any touch on me through my garments is allowed. Now do it, slave!"

I experienced a wild revival of my strength inside her as I felt her breasts through her dress, through her corset! I could feel her heart racing as she began to moan long and in plaintive-sounding notes. "AAA AAAA AAAAAAAAAA YES! YES! Fucked by my own slaves! Yes! Oooohh! So good to feel like a woman--mmm nnnnmmm ooooohh!"

Her dressed breastshapes were dancing up and down as she now roughly bounced herself on me in short, urgent strokes, forcing my cock to a painful swelling against her walls as she opened her mouth and offered the face of a deeply gone woman, sweating under the sun and inside her dress as she burst inwardly and shivered on me, against my sides! "Yes! Yes! I'm oooh so fucked!" she purred amid urgent whimpers.

I grabbed her lithe arms, touching her through her long sleeves, and now, using her arms as leverage, I helped her in bouncing herself harder on my impaling cock... She exploded in a litany of moans that sounded like she was in pain. I caught sight of Ibrahim; he was smiling and licking his lips under his brigand's mustache. One of the other guards was kneeling on the ground as if praying Allah; he was kissing the sole of Nadja's foot, under her clothed butt while she climaxed on top of me!

Keeping my hold on her arms, I went even rougher and felt wild elation from being now the one in command of my strokes. Her mouth was wide open and she was in no shape to give any further commands. She was looking up at the blue sky and screaming her bliss! "AAAA AAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAA AAAAAAAA AAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAA! Bože můy!!!"

I was grunting and passed my edge! With the satisfaction of feeling her climax through my bursting cock.

I exploded inside Nadja in angry ropes loaded with revenge. How dare she order me around! She deserved to be gang-raped! Gang-rape! I kept repeating the word in my mind as I erupted inside her like a geyser of heat and anger! I was a slave who revolted! One of these days, I would get her! And strip her naked! And be the first of many men to have her!

Nadja remained in sweat, on top of me like the heated cowgirl she had proven to be, sweating inside her dress. I remained silent. Was she going to disrobe now to thank me for being a good slave? The scent from her sex and the fragrance from her hair floated in the air. Her thighs were hot against my sides. I felt her lovely feet against my skin and loved this! The four Turk guards were staring at her like boys in a candy-store. Her face grew hard as she looked down on me.

"Not so bad for a first time, slave. Now get off from under me and leave us! Go back there and report to my father. Don't try to run. My sniper will shoot you if you try to run."

***

Ivan Sidorov's thoughts (continued)

I held back my laughter upon hearing her bluff again. A sniper! My ass!

However, the four eunuchs who were with her were no bluff. Their fists were like steel and they knew how to use them. Swiftly putting myself together and picking up my peak-cap, I got going to the edge of the forest. I overheard Nadja with her eunuchs. I was strongly tempted to go back and spy on them, but what if she wasn't bluffing about that sniper after all? I looked everywhere among the tree-tops, especially the tall pines. I saw no one.

As I looked around, the breeze carried Nadja's voice to my ears.

"... Yes! Kiss me, Ibrahim! And you... take all my clothes off and take your reward! Lick me all you want! Suck my tits and make me yours! Ooohh oooh yes! Yes! Raped by my own guards! ... Aaaaah yes! Mustafa! Ahmet! Mahmoud! I love your licking tongues! Yes! Yes! Ooooohh Ibrahim your hands are sooo soo strong! SO STRONG!"

The little devil! What I'd give to see her naked!

Was it my imagination or did I just hear the impact of a bullet near me? Perhaps it was just a branch falling, or some fox or other small animal. I quickly walked back to the site of the Czech Legion's victory near the captured train, where the Colonel had stripped himself naked and was now raping Sonja from behind and kneeling, perhaps doing so for the second time. Sonja's pretty face was sideways and sliding on the grass as she whimpered in that quiet sort of unwilling submission I had seen so often in similar aftermaths of a battle. Her gaze met mine and I saw the contempt in her dead eyes. She knew I had changed sides. If she ever made it back to the Soviets, then Sumeyye would be screwed! But the risk was small; the Czechs would take her with them as sure as the sky is blue. Either this or they'd shoot her before leaving.

Upon spotting me, a few half-dressed Czech soldiers blocked my way, but the Colonel gave a sharp order and they let me pass.

The young ladies who had been pulled out of the train were still the fuck fodder of dozens of troops, each girl gang-raped in a grim carousel by a bunch of five to ten soldiers or more when she was really pretty. These were the daughters and nieces of Soviet officers or officials, all of whom were either dead or captive. Like all soldiers in the world after a well-fought capture, the Czechs had gone for the maidens first. They were the young spoils of war; spoils as old as the world.

The Cossack horsewomen were still abusing their power over the male captives, near the spot where the platoon of sodomite Czechs had been patiently keeping the inactive prisoners in check, all of these prisoners kneeling submissively. Their officer had chosen a handsome boy, who was now tearing the air with cries, his trousers down as the young Czech officer was sodomizing him, entering his true active duty. Bye and bye, the other sodomites shot the uglier men and began to rape the others.

The breeze carried a smell of urine from the ones who could no longer hold their bladder, or from the Czechs who simply peed under cars. The breeze also offered the iron smell of blood and a gentle whiff of carrion that would soon become unbearable. The train was echoing with whimpers and grunts as the female passengers inside were probably now all naked and subjected to all forms of abuse at the hands of the troops and the train staff who had turned against them.

I spotted Lieutenant Anika. She lay down, face up, looking up at one of the male prisoners, a young man dressed in black like a lawman, whose cock looked like a ghastly white appendix out of this dark outfit. He was masturbating above—Anika's bare breasts! She lay there with the top of her brown hussar's uniform wide open and her perky knolls of pale flesh bathed in sunlight! Her nipples were barely visible in this light and they had to be vanilla-pale. She was so hot!

Many other hussar-girls were similarly lying down with their breasts in plain sight. Cossack cavalry did not wear any corsets. Those girls wore nothing under their tunics, or perhaps some thin shirt. All their bosoms offered the softer side of the Don country; the cavalry's erotic side. The male prisoners were ordered to masturbate and shower those tits with their sperm. Each of the selected prisoners had a pistol on his head, a pistol held by a girl grinning under her busby, a German-style pelzmütze that was as black as the death these girls held in their dainty hand.

I caught sight of Rodionov's corpse where it lay face down. I walked to where Anika offered her bare breasts as a last favour to the young male prisoner, who presently reached his climax and gave a hefty load on her pale-nipple breasts!

"AAANNHHH NNNNNNNNNNNN NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!"

He had a lot! Anika was gorgeous under the sun, with this glistening gloss of pungent heat bathing her full tits along with the sunlight, her skin all the whiter against the brown curtains of her wide-open tunic!

I fell on my knees, and plunged on Anika! Her tits! I cupped them and began to lick them, uncaring for the vile taste of semen, which I progressively replaced with my heated slobber. Her breasts were swollen to a full average size, with softness upon girly-fat softness under my kissing adoration! My tongue met her pale areolas and circled them as my kisses brushed her nipple. I remembered her on horseback with her formal uniform as I tasted the gems that hid under her grey-and-brown uniform.

"Oh, you're the old officer who was with Nadja!" Anika whimpered as her fingers went through my hair. My peak-cap was long gone. "Will you please rape me, Sir? After all, you outrank me and... and I've always fantasized about being raped by a Soviet officer. I trust that Nadja has left enough steam in you to fill up my boiler! She's a bitch, isn't she?"

And on this, Lieutenant Anika moved herself and kissed me. I heard other male-sounding moans as some of her girls were also having their breasts coated with a dying man's pudding. Gunshots were heard. I looked and saw that the male prisoners, as soon as they were done with their ultimate ejaculation, were being shot through the head, carefully so as not to hit anyone with a stray bullet. They were the lucky ones. The few remaining ones were sodomized.

"Don't pay attention to any of this, Komroty. Just strip me naked and die inside me! Today could be your last day, Komroty. Enjoy life while you can."

Terrified by her words, I obeyed and she submissively let me take her grey trousers down her legs, then remove her long leather boots along with her blue woolen socks. Anika had a fascinating hair colour where it wasn't clear whether she was blonde or light-brown, especially with the sun making her long strands look like flaming gold offering a sweet caramel of life. Her pussy hair was likewise. I loved being the condemned man who was licking the cunt and the slit of an enemy female officer. This would perhaps be my last hurray.

Anika kept running her hands in my hair as I pleasured her. Her entrance tasted heavily like piss with notes of anchovy. No wonder, since the hardships of a military campaign did not offer much in the way of hygiene. I knew that the troops would soon be leaving as there was no way their Army Division could keep this region under control for very long. They would shoot any non-valuable prisoner and be on their way. Soon.

Anika rolled herself around and offered me the taut vastness of her butt! I covered her white buns with adoration as my cock grew stiff! She had the firm ass of a girl who had been active all her life with traditionally male occupations such as sabre rattling and horseback riding.

Not bothering with removing her trousers all the way and leaving them around her knees, I nudged the young officer to a position where she was on all fours. "Yes! Rape me, Sir! Do it good, long and hard and I might spare your life!"

The penetration was delightfully forceful! Anika was a nice girl, full of life. She deserved to be raped with force! Her tight butt was a wonder of Siberia! Its taut sunlit curves reinforced the slimness of her body. Her butt-crack seemed to radiate with her pleasure, and her intimate fragrance, as I took her waist and began to pound her in regular strokes as she moaned and rested herself on her elbows, propping up her curves as if offering me her butt in their best light she could. She could have made a good wife for me.

"Anika, you're very good to rape!" I said as I kept up my strokes inside her welcoming tightness. What pleasures would be had for any Bolshevik troops who would capture her and her horsewomen! Looking around me, I saw nothing short of a full-blown orgy where Czech infantrymen were now grabbing the Cossack hussars and urgently stripping them out of their uniforms. While she was getting fucked by me, Anika could also hear her own girls getting gang-fucked on the grass, most of them moaning under a well-built soldier whose bare buttocks urgently fed his thrusts inside her. Others let a Czeck fuck them from behind. A couple of them gave a man the full splendour of her tits under the sun as they became their own special cowgirl. Like Nadja had done for me, except they were naked, their boots and uniform and busby lying next to their ecstasy.

This while nearly all the male prisoners had been shot dead and their wives, nieces and daughters were given the privilege of tasting Czech cocks and the semen that came free. The meadow echoed with groans of absolute satisfaction as the "little Soviet tramps" became whores for the Czech Legion.

The Colonel was now forcing the curly blonde passenger into a face fuck where the maiden knelt in her naked splendour, with many spots of crusty dried semen. Some other young maiden, this one with dark hair, but also curly, kept feebly protesting amid a squad of Czechs who had lifted her up and kept her floating amid them as they took turns in eating her pussy while pouring vodka on her small tits that looked scandalously young in their sunlit show of broken-in virtue. She was still wearing her bourgeois gloves and kept calling the name of her dead father.

My cavalry lance did a good, long job inside Anika, whose low orgasmic groans I was fortunate enough to learn while enjoying the tautness of her full buttocks under my hands. Another good fuck! I was wondering whether I was going to relieve myself, when it came with a vengeance! I looked way up above at the cobalt sky, noticing a passing cloud as I screamed like a daytime banshee and thanked Anika with an enormous load of jism. All of it was spewed deep inside the cavalry officer! It was so God-damned good! A lovely death.

TO BE CONTINUED

[HistBuff]

Chapter 12: The House Of Special Purpose

Nastya's thoughts...

Father said nothing when we arrived, our travel dresses wet from the drizzle rain after the guards and their old pig of a Kommissar had stopped mid-way during the ride, during an obvious detour where there was nothing but forest; and our fears had grown to a dreaded certainty when they halted in the middle of nowhere. They ordered us out of our hansoms while the one in which Nagorny sat with my brother Alekseï and Ortipo had gone on. The rain drizzled down on us.

They said it was for us to "just go stretch our legs a little and get some fresh air after our long trip". The lyers! In this drizzle rain, this halt just didn't make sense; and we had used the loo right before leaving the train. I was taken for a short walk near a thicket of white birches that stood out amid a solemn gathering of tall pines, the cold rain wetting my travel dress. The old brigand of a Kommissar was smoking a cigar under this light rain. He offered me one, the rascal! I shook my head. He insisted and I bought peace by taking that brown disgusting thing. Smoking this had me coughing a great deal.

"There's a first time in everything", the old rascal said smiling, nodding at me with mock respect as he saluted me with his peak-cap, black with a golden edge. "Do you know the story of Alice beyond the mirror? It's a wonderful story. You can call me Tweedle-Dee!"

Tania and Olga had remained with most of the forty men near the hansoms. A rainbow painted itself in the sky, as a mocking show of glory for our predicament. The clouds offered a sky full of beauty. It was spring.

After this weird halt, we resumed our journey and quickly caught up with Alekseï's hansom and reached the suburbs of Yekaterinburg. It was clear they had made the train halt one stop earlier so they could take us through this path in the forest. Men are always very creative when it comes to creating opportunities to spend some extra time with us young ladies.

Father knew. He sensed everything. I saw the faint lights of rage in his eyes and the peculiar way this rage got quietly stored in the light-brown hair of his well-trimmed beard. He of course said nothing; it was a matter of Imperial dignity. He comforted all three of us with the love in his eyes. If only he had been as good a Czar he was a father! Mother looked at us with a mix of distress and silent contempt. Maria ran to me and hugged me. She was crying. She understood.

The next few days were an attempt at reclaiming our normal life in captivity. Everything was different now that I was a woman. I kept thinking of Ivan. Each time I played colorito with myself, his presence was there, filling me with love, until I realized he was absent and I would never see him again! Soon, the King of England our relative would reach an agreement and we would go into exile, perhaps never to set foot in Russia again. Is there anything worse than being rejected by the country you love? I was turning seventeen in three weeks, and yet I had already lived a lifetime. I felt old.

The guards were uniformed ruffians who kept tormenting us. Their antics were no longer bothering me. All four sisters, we remained stoic amid their vulgar jokes and remarks.

All windows in the two-story house were boarded shut. All except one in the attic. This was the only patch of blue sky I could see from inside this House of Special Purpose as they called it. Once, I was up there, alone. I had stealthily escaped the guards' attention and went all the way upstairs. I felt the early June breeze as it caressed my face. For the first time in days, I felt how young I truly was. The future was mine! My whole life ahead of me! I smiled. I'd go on to be an actress in England! I'd be Juliet! Lady Macbeth! Cleopatra!

I walked to this small square of skylight and looked outside. I saw the delicate blue of the sky, the subtle clouds over the far-away landscape and felt the breeze directly on my face as my gaze wandered among the church belfries and the higher roofs. I had no idea whereto this small window faced, but I liked to think it was to the west. Where Ivan was perhaps enjoying a leave in the arms of his wife in St. Petersburg. Lucky her!

The sharp impact from a bullet against the window frame and the rifle-shot shook me to my core! I walked back, nearly peeing under my dress! A guard had just taken a shot at me! A warning shot. We of course were not allowed to look through any window. We were in the strictest confinement. This one window was left open for a minimal amount of ventilation in this large house whose other windows were all kept shut and boarded. Days were getting warmer as June was almost there.

"Here you are, little tramp!" said a guard as he emerged out of the narrow staircase. He was followed by two others. Before I could do anything, I was seized and pushed against the wall, and a pressed hand silenced me.

"We will teach you not to sneak away from us! Anatoly, hold her still! The little tramp needs a good hard lesson!"

I went in absolute panic as their intention dawned on me. They were way too strong for me! I wished for Ivan to materialize and shoot those brigands through the head! But I knew nobody would come and save me.

"What the deuce is going on here!" said a fierce-looking man as he emerged from the stairs, two red triangles of authority on his collar marking him as a Senior Sergeant. "You came up here to take the young lady downstairs, so take her downstairs. Right now!"

As I was taken away, my heart still racing, I heard the strong bearded man whisper something. "I'm truly sorry, Your Imperial Highness." There were tears welling in his eyes as he looked away. His accent was from Ukraine, perhaps Kiev.

I spent the next hours kneeling in the middle of our bedroom, playing colorito alone with trembling hands, trying my best not to break down in tears. It was a matter of Imperial dignity. I wished so much I were in Buckingham Palace with my English relatives at this very moment!

Olga put down the novel she was reading and came to kneel beside me, ignoring the guards staring at us. "Let's play together, my little Nastya!"

I broke down and buried my head in her lap, crying all my pent-up tears. Olga stroked my hair, comforting me, making me feel like an innocent child again. Those men! They were so awful! Olga had always been like a mother to me.

***

Maria Romanova's thoughts...

Poor Nastya! She's not feeling well. Always morose and silent, when she used to be the merry little one. She's no longer playing practical jokes on our guards. She's no longer herself. I know why. I say nothing. We all know and say nothing. As of late, she's been feeling nauseous. Doctor Botkin has seen her again. We all know why she's feeling this way.

I missed my cousin Dmitri. We had almost made intimate love together a couple years ago, even though he was already twenty-five while I was sixteen. He's so funny! Handsome too. I've managed to keep a photo of him with me, and Nastya too... a snap-shot of a bygone moment just as he was making me laugh with his unique way of jesting! Ooh, I would have been more than happy to give him my love! A gentleman of the court, yet humble and easy-going.



I hated him when I learned he had taken part in the assassination of Rasputin, a wise owl whom I loved to confide in.

The irony is, Dmitri was spared the Revolution and its horrors because he was already gone in exile. Mother had made Father send him away because of his involvement in this assassination. I was shocked! Dmitri had often said Rasputin had a bad influence on Mother, making her make decisions that angered the people, who was already suffering from the effects of the war with Germany and Hungary-Austria. I didn't agree with him and said the people was too ignorant to see the wisdom in Mother's decisions. Once, I overheard a conversation between him and close friends. "The old bastard just wouldn't die! We poisoned him, then shot him several times. The old bastard just wouldn't die! But at the end, we convinced him to do so." I decided never to speak to him again! Killing such a wonderful wise man!

But now, I find myself missing cousin Dmitri and wishing I had known him better. I'm now a grown woman, well, almost, and I see things differently. Maybe Dmitri was right about Rasputin and I was just a silly naive girl who had fallen under an evil spell. There's a reason why the people of Russia revolted the way they did.

As hard as it was, I've kept flirting with the younger guards, be it to keep my mind busy and distract myself from the searing heat as the summer turned the house into an oven. June is my favourite month of the year, and yesterday was my nineteenth birthday, June 14th, but I've been told by Father it was in fact June the 26th. The soldier who had been my secret lover for the last weeks had somehow smuggled a cake for the occasion. A shore-cake with rose petals on its coating of whipped cream!

Given the awful circumstances, I'm glad I was able to give my virginity of my own free will, to a boy I liked. It's a miracle we were able to manage this, as he was paired on the night watch with some old soldier who was usually drunk. Whenever we need to use the loo, we have to ring for the guards. Leonid was there, but so was the old soldier with his filthy garrison cap, and he looked alarmingly sober.

I found myself alone with them. Leonid soon whispered to me, "It's now or never, Maria!"

He kissed me and pushed my into a recess along the hallway, a recess of shadow where I found myself between his kisses, his young body and this damned old soldier who began to grope my ass and chuckled... "I knew something was up!" he whispered between his teeth as he began to violate my neck with his kisses and I heard his nose taking whiffs of my hair! The old pig! I was stranded between the wet kisses of a grandpa and Leonid's sweet lips on mine.

But Leonid's kisses, and the way he presently cupped my breasts through my nightgown made me horny. This would be our only chance and I chose not to spoil it. Anyway, screaming would only serve to make my dishonour known to Mother and attract guards who could also seize the opportunity and take me over to the dining room, which I wanted to avoid at all costs; the inner guards slept in the basement, but often drank over there in this dining room, whose table was thoroughly washed every morning by Anna our lawful lady-in-waiting. So I had no choice but to remain silent and allow this old pig to share me with my lover. And there was something troubling in this adventure. I was soaking wet! Wet under Leonid's kissing and breast fondling; wet from knowing I was to lose my virginity; and wet from knowing I was then to be taken by an old man, perhaps just as old as General Tatischev, whom I had sometimes fantasized about.

Both men soon undressed me and Leonid avidly took my left breast inside his mouth! While the old pig was on his knees and pressing his face against my naked buttocks! I felt his old mustache and his nose against my virgin buns! Much to my surprise, I no longer felt repulsed by him. I just surrendered myself to the notion of having two men for me alone, one young and handsome and sucking my tits, the other not so much and exploring my butt with burning hands and a slobbering tongue. Right where I stood!

My mouth opened of its own volition and I had to press a hand on it to muffle my screaming moan as Leonid trailed my abdomen with slobbering kisses, while the old man was now slobbering my legs and now my feet! And then Leonid was kissing my pussy! Oh my! This felt even better than I had anticipated! I had swiftly trimmed my pubic hair just for him! I hope he was enjoying this neat triangle I now offered him! No man before him had tasted my juices. The old man inside me afterwards was the price I was now willing to pay. I even felt curious as to what he was going to sound like when he'd relieve himself. I was so horny! I was about to explode!

"Fuck me, Leonid! Fill me up!" I whispered, growing impatient for the feel of his cock.

Next thing I knew, I was bent over and the old man held and caressed my wrists in front of me, even kissing my head where my hair overhung while Leonid grabbed the crease of my hips after sweetly forcing himself inside my wet pussy! My mouth opened wide and my eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he began to pound me, emitting restrained grunts as he reaffirmed his hold around my waist as I took the sweet punishment, feeling like a duchess being fucked by her own soldiers, which was almost true.

Leonid soon had a racing, deepening breath, and I could tell he was about to be done as his fingers buried his urgency into my flesh. I loved the sense of being naked between two fully uniformed—and armed—soldiers, the youngest of whom was now breeding me like a stallion! I tried not to scream!

"UUUHH Nnnnnnnnn nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngghh..."

He had twitched and flooded me with his heat! What a bliss! So this was what Mother had felt when they conceived me!

"My turn now!" the old guard said, a bit too loud. Footsteps were heard.

We remained still. The footsteps were getting closer. Closer. Louder. Boots. Guards!

My heart was racing as I held my breath. We were going to get caught! I felt terrified as I realized what these men could do to me after sending Leonid away with the old guard, whose erect cock I felt like a heated rod against my hip.

The footsteps passed us, and got fainter.

Then, they moved me around and simply reversed their roles. Leonid held my hands together while the old guard penetrated me. So forcefully that I forgot how old he was! This bout lasted longer, much longer. He offered me steady strokes, steady and reliable as my pleasure boiled inside me! I soon bit my lip as I exploded, my senses elevated to an incredible apex as I felt the tiled floor under my bare feet, the old man's pressing hands around my waist and Leonid's loving grip around my wrists, and the quiet grunting from the old man who kept feeding me with his reliable strokes.

I climaxed again. This was so sweet! Oh, I loved this! Now they could do anything they wanted with me! I loved being owned by them! I was now a tramp! It felt so liberating!

The old man was now bucking me with urgency, striking my buttocks in a way that told me he'd soon reach his full glory. And ooh! How he exploded inside me! I felt how elated he was as he ejaculated inside me. Between his teeth, he whispered... "I can't believe it! Princess Maria..."

They weren't done. I was moved around again and I presently knelt down in front of the old guard, whom I distinguished clearly as my eyes had fully adjusted to darkness. Like a dirty harlot, I began licking his abdomen while lifting the hem of his tunic with feverish hands, then I went lower and began to taste his semen mixed with my own juices with my novice tongue! This while Leonid licked my buttocks and now penetrated me with his finger!

All three of us, we remained like this for the longest time, me licking the old man's soft cock and discovering the rancid-sweet taste of the sludge coating it, while Leonid's kissed my butt and fingered me. I loved this! Leonid and this old man were good lovers. I was too young to know for sure, but I was sure of it.

My knees were hurting against the tiled floor and my bladder was getting a bit full, but no chance I was stopping this silent orgy! Soon enough, Leonid moved himself behind me. Before long, I felt his new erection inside me and there I remained—Fucked by the young stud while licking the old man down there and slowly reviving him!

Leonid soon exploded inside me.

Then, the old man made me stand up where I felt some of Leonid's seed where it spilled out on my inner thighs. I felt the old man's gaze where he looked at my naked bosom and grabbed my breasts in his hands! My knees felt a soothing relief as they were liberated from the hard floor.

"Oh! So wonderful!" he whispered as he began to gently press my knolls in his hands while soft-kissing my nipples! He was so tender! Oohh! Why nobody ever tell me old men would touch me like this! He was touching me as if I were a holy relic! His silver moustache brushing my swollen tits! His hands enjoying the full softness of my youth!

"Please, old soldier, fuck me again!" I found myself whispering as he enjoyed the soft empire of my breasts, while Leonid kissed the side of my neck while his hand found its way down there, where once more he fingered me! My breath was a fire! Their breaths were fires feeding mine!

Soon enough, on my own whispering request, I was once more bent-over and punished by the old man and his steady strokes while Leonid held my hands together in front of me. I let myself be fucked! Again! With my hair overhanging and swaying along with the old man's quiet grunting as I moved myself against his cock! This lasted so blissfully long! The old man gave me another girl's paradise, where I bit my lips and did my best not to moan too loud! He was a beast!

He pulled out of me and I heard him make a strange litany of high-pitched moans, and then came a shower of heat on my butt! He was thanking his Grand Duchess properly by showering my young derrière with his proletarian sperm!

And then Leonid moved me around and bucked me in a similar slug-fest, holding my hands together on the small of my back and using my arms like reins to make me his mare! Fucked me like a stallion, just like I fantasized about cousin Dmitri! Me and him had once been on a hike together in a snowy landscape. We had almost kissed. He had hesitated. Fool I had been not to go right ahead! I would have made love while feeling the Russian winter on my skin!

Leonid soon made his exhausted statement. With my cunt filled up and over-spilling, they helped me to put my nightgown back on and once we had used the bathroom, they duly escorted me back to the bedroom where Olga, Tania and Nastya were fast asleep.

***

Maria's thoughts... (continued)

The next day, Leonid wasn't there as usual. Neither was the old guard, whose name I didn't even know. The day after that, they were also absent and I knew their higher-ups were at least suspecting something. Of course, Leonid's smuggling of a cake had hardly gone unnoticed.

I had managed to give Leonid a photograph of myself during one of our hard-won secret rendez-vous. May he keep it to his heart! For I shall never forget him!



One night as I lay in bed, I heard Olga crying in bed and mumbling horrors about her having been abused by sailors with tattoos on their arms. I went to comfort her, clearly understanding what had befallen to my sisters during that boat trip. I had myself seen those sailors on the Russ, and their shameless gaze on my person. The only reason I had been spared was the presence of Father. To them, he was still the Czar; this was the unspoken truth that had filled the air during my boat trip.

Perhaps all wasn't lost. Perhaps rescuing forces were on their way to free us. Perhaps Russia would gather around us and fight off those brigands!

I had to use the loo, so I rang the bell.

The guards who came were strangers to me. They didn't even speak Russian! They sounded Lithuanian or perhaps Estonian as they spoke low between them; there were four of them. Once I was done with my loo business, more men were waiting for me. I knew something bad was to befall me. They were led by a tall, repulsive man with a beard that looked as if it were entirely made of soot. He made his two squares of officer's authority look like a red-devil mockery as he spoke in passable Russian:

"Now, lovely little Maria, you be taught not to use lovers among your guards! Take her to the dining room! Silently! We'll teach her, the little tramp!"

This black joke of a Captain repeated his orders in his native Lithuanian and they lifted me off my feet while groping my bosom and bottom through my nightgown. I was to be gang-raped! All fibres within me became twisted knots of terror. I refrained from screaming lest I drag my sisters into this; they had had enough of such matters during their trip through Tyumen.

I was carried in a hurry, where the empty dining room waited for all of them—and for me. The floor was dimly lit with warm lamplight that told me my skin under this light would be reminiscent of a Rubens painting. It was clear the Captain had arranged all of this beforehand. In a way, I felt a sense of justice at the prospect of sharing my sisters' fate.

The brutality took me off-guard. They dropped me on the massive table like a sack of potatoes, while sending a couple of forgotten tin cups flying on that dull floor where they made striking sounds as if ringing the knell of my virtue, and I yelped! Less out of pain than out of sheer panic! They lit up the large chandelier above me and its light blinded me!

They jeered as they clawed into my nightgown and made short work of it, whistling and catcalling at the sight of my freed bosom! Their vile gazes profaning the south of my hips! My legs! My bare feet revealed in a pale light of skin that felt surreal to my eyes, amid all those men... Their gazes raped me everywhere in this bright electric light, from head to toe as some water was poured on my bare breasts while someone was heating my feet with hands and mouth and a forest of hands began exploring my legs, my whole body and established their base camp in and around my pubic hair. The water on my breasts turned out to be vodka. Tongues were soon there to lick it off; this forced intimacy filled me with panicked confusion!

"The carpet matches the drapes!" the soot-bearded Captain commented in Russian for me to understand his appreciation about my hair that looked dark blonde in this vivid light. "I love this silk deep down, where I have pleasure and follow Leonid! Oh, he's fine, he's fine! He in his cell. With four of our men fucking him deep in ass as we speak! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

Then he said something in Lithuanian that sounded like "Pakelk jai kojas!"

The soldiers propped my legs up as this ogre of a Captain gave me a brush of his gross beard on my lower legs as he kissed my ankles and then licked the hidden side of my knees, running his hands north and south of my thighs, then he finally put a finger inside me as my head shook of its own will. My whole being said No! But I remained silent as they poured vodka on my face and rubbed my breasts with the strong liquor as they got horny through the roof! Holding me with painful strength that radiated through my wrists while the sordid officer took his position against my propped-up legs while his finger made me wet against my will. I was about to learn what it feels like to be given rounds of forced sex.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhhh Taip!!" he uttered, victory in his loud roaring as I yelped in pain and he forced himself inside me, hammering his advantage with pounding strokes that gained depth as my mouth opened wide and I wailed as they poured more vodka on my face, their grip like vices on my wrists as the Captain began to black-beard me into his whimpering whore, my legs always propped up with hands holding them there, with the tip of my feet in constant brushing communion with his sooty beard, and I felt the heat of his breath upon them as he exerted himself and I officially became a branded whore for the Red Army.

This pounding amid their cheers and jeers lasted an eternity. It dawned on me that Father and Mother upstairs could hear all this. How must have they been mortified by this ultimate torment as they felt powerless to stop any of it! Father would act as if none of it had happened. Mother would look at me with this silent mixture of pity and contempt in her eyes. Every night, guards came to torment us and make us scream; they terrified us! But this time was different. This time, things had gone all the way to their natural, gross conclusion.

"YEEEEEEEEYYYYAAAAAAAAAAYYAAAYAAAAYAAA aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..." uttered the gross-bearded Captain, the red squares glowing on his collar at the light from the massive chandelier as he liberated himself from what felt like a huge pent-up load of restrained sexual energy. I felt it with all my shame. He had a hell lot!

A balding man lost his officer's peak-cap as he took over and stood between my weakened legs. He nodded at me, smiling like a king, his ugly face of forty-something carved in the bright gold of this light as he pricked me hard with his stiff erection, and then he went at it! Savagely! His mouth wide open and losing frothing slobber that soon pooled on my belly as he leaned over in the sweaty heat of his heroic antics upon and inside my person.

I closed my eyes and looked away, their grip seemingly peeling the skin off my wrists as they held me there like demented demons! And this gross peasant wearing an officer's uniform kept moaning above my ever-moving breasts that were now swollen against my will as my body responded to the assaults by forcing me to experience a vile form of pleasure at their raw hands!

Once the bald man had paid me his respects with a long-winded litany of grunting growls where he confusedly told me he liked my tits in bad Russian, a heavy-set man took his place, the three red triangles on his collar informing me of two things. One, he was a Sergeant-Major. Two, they were doing me the honour of the Red Army in descending order of rank.

His big belly mocking my beauty, the man had a head that looked like a full moon with a sickly hue of yellow in his skin. He downed a glass of vodka and swiftly took his tunic off, then his cotton undershirt, showing me the flab-rich glory of his blubber, complete with a male pair of breasts! And a scary-hairy chest.

The pungent smell announced his erect cock as he dropped his trousers and began tapping it on the conquered triangle of my cunt down there, in a pure act of power and victory, spiced up by a loud chorus of whistles and catcalls, while others were actively sucking my tits and licking the vodka off them. Amid all this, the raging fire inside me went out of control and I gave them the satisfaction of hearing my going insane in a high-moaning climax after the fat Sergeant-Major invaded me and now kept saying "Taip! Taip! Taip!" as he raped me strong and hard!

I shall never forget his big hammy hands around my waist as he smiled down on me out of his moon-round face with the sickening yellow of his features where his jowls jiggled like the face of a depraved Buddha, with trailing drops of slobber dripping down a corner of his open mouth. His eyes devoured my beauty! And he looked like a big fat toad. It was so grotesque!

Soldiers' hands kept kneading my swollen knolls, their fingers paying their respects around my nipples. Then the fat toad of a man seemed to bury me under his moaning grunts as he flooded me with his Lithuanian seed! A Sergeant politely saluted me as he took his own turn. The Captain said the table was just the right height for the squad of tall men he had selected for me, and I should be proud of being fucked by the very flower of the Lithuanian corps.

After the Sergeant had spewed his fuel for me, another Sergeant came, this one freckled with blond-reddish hair and a face that looked a verst long. Then it was down to Corporals. The bright chandelier kept blinding me, but whenever I closed my eyes, the Captain would bark, "Eyes open, my princess! Eyes open or else..."

This went on for what felt like hours. All of them took their turns inside me on this large table, which proved sturdy enough for my pressed buttocks as I received each and everyone of them, down to the youngest Private, who ended up yelling his dying boy's bliss as he exploded inside me after less than a minute, just as my own body imploded and a wild rush of hot air erupted out of me, with full waves of forced glee running throughout my taken body. I think it was his twitching inside me that toppled me into this climax. This and knowing he was probably losing his virginity to me.

"Your Imperial Highness," said the soot-bearded Captain, "we are greatly honoured by your presence. And to show you how much we appreciate you, we will all use you again, this time from behind. We do not normally extend such courtesy, but since you're a young lady of such a high rank and prestige, morality forces us to do some extra work so we can thank you properly and... and see how soft and peachy your ass really is! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

Then he barked something in his language and the soldiers moved me around until I was bent over that damned table, where they put a bright lamp against my face as they pressed my left cheek on the table's lacquered surface while a legion of hands got acquainted with my buttocks. "Eyes open, my princess! Eyes open or else..." I hated him! This lamp risked damaging my sight!

Something was poured on my butt and I knew of experience it was vodka. The feel of hands and tongues caressed my flesh, and as the effluvia of cheap vodka reached my delicate nostrils and competed with the fumes from the sperm-oil lamp, I felt how intensely they were worshiping my curves. They were stroking and massaging my bottom with such religious zeal and devotion! Part of me was made horny by all of this preposterous adventure! This should never have been allowed to happen! I felt the brushing of a thick beard and I knew this was the Captain distinguishing himself by his zealous tongue service on the skin of my derriere. Ironic to have Red-Army soldiers serving me with such unbridled devotion! Quite a deployment it was.

The penetration came, followed by the Captain's grunts and his hands around my waist. I tried to relax and pretend this was all normal. They were still holding my wrists as if their lives depended on how hard they were holding them! I begged them to lighten their grip, but they just laughed at my pure St. Petersburg Russian while the Captain kept feeding my pussy with a barrage of heavy strokes, his hands hurting my waist inside a prison of lust. My pussy seemed all right; it must have been my extreme state of agitation that made it seem so.

He went on, on and on, the increasing force of his thrusts forcing my cheek to slide fore and back on this stately table. The brave Captain went on making me feel I was being bred by a horse until he erupted inside me, again, with a beastly surge of groaning yells. Perhaps he was cursing in his tongue. I'll never know for sure. I felt burning shame as I understood that my body now liked the feel of his cock inside me.

"Aaaah Maria! MAria MAria Maria-aaa-aaa aaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnhhh..." proferred the second officer as he began to breed me, he who I knew was a balding ugly man, and he uttered a similar flourish of vocal approval as he relieved himself after a nondescript bout of heated strokes, where his hands kept holding my buttocks with a pressure that added to my shame and humiliation of belonging to a man I would never have looked at.

This was followed by the big hammy hands of the fat Sergeant-Major, and throughout our renewed meeting, I felt relieved that I was spared from having to see his face. But this allowed me to feel his vigorous size inside me in a way that proved more strongly angled as he was breeding me from behind and freely dropping his slobber in the small of my back.

His sickly yellow face suddenly sprung into my mind as the slug-fest continued. His large moon-round face of liver-sick skin, the jowls jiggling along with his slobber-rich smile of joy. A sick Joy that infected me each time his blubber collided in urgency with my buttocks while his fingers sank ever more into my waist.

Under this big-belly pounding, I confusedly thought of Father and his inept government that had allowed this to happen in the first place. I cursed and thought of Rasputin. I then thought of cousin Dmitri. Yes, he was right about this whole thing. And I now wished he had breeded me of my own free will! This while the fat Sergeant-Major seemed to shiver in some gross shamanic trance that I mostly felt through his hands, as he yelled his satisfaction and pressed himself upon me, imprisoning me under his blubber with one last massive thrust as he groaned into the nape of my neck, licking my ear while my cheek slid on that massive table and he twitched inside me and properly erupted with a full load of Tartar sauce that suddenly elevated his social rank in his noble attempt at impregnating me.

The rest of the boys followed, turning the event into what felt like a contest to see which man was the most brutal and the longest lasting inside me. It seemed to have no end. This while they kept my beyond-sore wrists held in tight pain while keeping my hair wet with cheep vodka.

Then I felt a rush of cool air from the night outside. It was followed by many footsteps and heated conversations in a language that was neither Russian or Lithuanian. A group of freshly arrived soldiers presently gathered around my exhausted person. Each one wearing a neat garrison cap over a clean uniform.

The Captain gave me a simple choice. I get gang-raped again, this time in my asshole, or I give each one of these newcomers a good mouth job. What sort of choice was that? I nodded and they then made me confirm my forced agreement by gesturing at my mouth with my hand moving in the air as if I were holding a large cock.

They all laughed and made me kneel down amid their circle. Or rather, they kindly helped me to stay up on my knees since I was exhausted. I soon found myself amid a forest of cocks of various shapes and descriptions. I heard "Yah" and I knew those cocks were of Estonian stock.

"Now, Your Imperial Highness, you suck! All of them! Like the harlot you are!" the Captain barked and laughed.

"Jah! Yyaaah! Yaah..." uttered the Estonian Sergeant as I grabbed his offered cock and he shoved it inside my mouth. This riddled me with a stinging sense of debasement, spiced with notes of depraved curiosity, as I looked up at this handsome man and noticed he had a long scar across his face while I took him deeper against my tongue and palate, hearing the heat in his repeated "Yah!" as I began to bob back and forth against the fullness of his throbbing length. His erection was hot and silky soft, and I kept sucking this perfect stranger as he began to gently stroke my hair. "Y-yahh! Yaah! Mariahh!"

He shortly after pulled out and I felt a blanket of heat landing on my face as he growled loud and sharp, and I realized in a shock that he was dumping all his jism on my face. And I almost secretly wished my sisters were here to see this. So they would know I was indeed sharing their fate.

***

I do not know how long exactly they kept submitting me to their exactions. Most of the Estonians would pull out of me and let go of a pungent load that stuck to my face like hot custard. "Yyaaaahhh! Yah!" they would growl as they heated my face, my breasts and humiliated me with their sludge.

"Taip-hhnnnnnnnnggghh!" growled the Lithuanian black-beard Captain as he gave me another load of white creamy borscht. I would soon deduce that "taip" and "jah" both meant "yes" in Lithuanian and Estonian, respectively. All of these men masturbating around me were united in their hatred and contempt for the old regime that they had helped in toppling. They were also united in their sweating exertions and their insane lust. The old regime was now personified by my sorry kneeling figure. I didn't beg them to stop. It would be pointless.

I remained there, peeing myself on the floor while all of those men in their sweaty uniforms relieved themselves on my face and sometimes into my gullet, forcing me to swallow. I nearly vomited as I spat dollops of Bolshevik semen while the Captain called me "Your Lovely Highness" and "the most beautiful trollop in Russia".

"Hans! ... ..." said one of them.

One of the younger soldiers stepped forward and caressed my chin, smiling down on me as the Captain roughly held my hair, and then I noticed how blond and handsome this lad was; slim and tall too. He looked even younger than myself! Orders were given in Lithuanian and I was returned to my former bent-over position with my sore cheek ready for more sliding duty on the stately tabletop.

"Ich werde deinen Arsch zum Singen bringen!" the young man said, and I could tell he was smiling as my amped-up senses perceived the unbuckling of his belt while I yelped in pain as my bruised wrists got pinned once again in a vice-like grip. "I will make your asshole sing!" he had said. At least this one spoke a language I understood. He was most likely a young German Marxist who had traveled all the way from his homeland, perhaps from as far as Cologne so he could fight for the cause he felt was just, and of course partake to the rape of poor girls like myself during the sacking of old Russia.

I had braced myself but I screamed loud and far as this Hun speared himself inside my butt-hole. Mother and Father were most certainly hearing all this! They would act as if none of this happened. Their sense of honour and dignity could simply not accept such a thing happening to one of their children. But tomorrow morning at breakfast, they would avoid looking at me and remain quiet. Mother and Father were so apt at keeping those things quiet that a hundred years from now, no historian would suspect that their daughters were criminally harmed. Everything was sacrificed to protect the honour of the Romanov. Especially our dignity.

As he forced my rectum open and I lost my soul in shrieking, the German boy took his stride. "Ya! Ya! YAvoll!" he repeated, showing me how close saying yes in German was to saying yah in Estonian, as he properly pounded me deep inside my ass and gave me what the Captain called "long overdue royalties" while someone poured some more vodka on my head amid the chaotic singing and whistling and catcalls.

Once the Fritz boy had sung his parting litany and gave me his Kaiserliche cream, another boy began uttering "Taip! Taip!" and I knew I was being pounded deep inside my butt by a patriotic Lithuanian. Followed by another. Then another, this one an Estonian who uttered, "Yah, yah yahh..."

The Captain kept mocking me all along...

"All of it inside her ass! What a night for lovely princess! I bet that your father is hearing all! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

After the Estonian soldier was finished, the Captain began to renew his licking devotion to my buttocks in long, heated strokes that told me how eagerly he had waited for this, since whatever time he had planned my downfall. He poured liquor on my bottom and gave me some more of his beard-brushing love. It was so barbaric and preposterous! But I almost thanked him for this welcome break after being ass-raped three or four times over amid these celebrations of, well, their victory over us. How easy it had been for them to overthrow us!

When I woke up in my bed, unable to remember anyhow I got there, the searing soreness in my anus and elsewhere told me the nightmare had been real and genuine. My wrists were especially painful. My hair reeked of vodka. And I had to ring the bell to go use the loo, but guards walked in. It was time for the dreadful roll-call.

As I stood at attention in a new nightgown, while holding my full bladder and pressing my legs together in the process, I had no idea of how this gown had got there on my shoulders. I still felt naked. I noticed I had crusts of dry semen in my face. Nastya, Olga and Tatiana all stood at attention next to me, their bare feet eliciting whistles of esthetic appreciation out of the guards, the contrast strong between my wretched state and the flawless perfection of their uniforms.

They walked Father in our bedroom. I looked down as he cast his head down; his pent-up rage seemed to be gathered in his well-trimmed beard and moustache of fine light-brown hair. The same beard and moustache that graced the 5-rubble coin that the Sergeant dropped on purpose at my feet.

"Pick it up, citizen Maria Romanova! Pick it up!"

And as I leaned all the way down to obey his command, he laughed and I felt all their gazes on the curves of my freely shown ass. The Captain had chosen a very thin gown.

My eyes didn't dare go up to meet Father's gaze, but when I stopped midway through his figure and noticed he wore his usual outfit, a flannel shirt with simple forest trousers that made him look like a man about to take an axe and go cut some wood, I noticed the small bulging tent in his brown trousers. Good Lord! Father was hard from seeing my curves! This and perhaps what he had heard from me through the night. This 1st of July would always be etched in my soul. Even if I live to be a hundred in England.

[0716]

The writing and the story telling are magnificent. These historical stories are always enjoyable and the reader learns a little history, even if it is not perfectly correct!

[0716]

The writing and the story telling are magnificent. These historical stories are always enjoyable and the reader learns a little history, even if it is not perfectly correct!

[HistBuff]

The writing and the story telling are magnificent. These historical stories are always enjoyable and the reader learns a little history, even if it is not perfectly correct!

Thanks, @0716 !

[HistBuff]

Note: For this chapter, I've gone back and reread the "Rules Explained" page in the Freshman's Guide. It is very useful when in doubt. Underage character = Mentioning that Anastasia turned out pregnant at 17 looks allowable since she was never shown in any way, active or passive, in any sex scene.
Violence/gore = The Romanov murder scene is where I get very close to forbidden content. Raping a girl after she's dead is no. I of course had the Tsarevich and Anastasia dying right from the start, so no underage character witnesses the rapes. Maria and her elder sisters are murdered just after they were raped and this looks allowable to me, because there's nothing like slow torture and the deaths are quick and "clean". Nikulin is the adult in the room who shows how it's done, while Ermakov is drunk. This is the darkest thing I've ever written and... well, I don't know but these rapes feel grimmer than erotic, which is a departure from my usual style.

Fun fact = For once, the men give no attention to a girl's feet

***

Chapter 13: Blood In The Cellar

At the Cheka's regional headquarters in Yekaterinburg, there was a beautiful samovar made of silver. It once belonged to an old noble family. Its finely polished body had resonated with the shrill screams of maidens being gang-raped before it was pillaged out of the mansion it had passed the last hundred years in. A similar one stood high and proud beside a jeweled egg on a table of oak in the office where worked and slept Yakov Yurovsky, the commandant of all guards of the House of Special Purpose, where the said office was. He presently sat at this table with his right-hand man, Pyotr Ermakov.

"I agree with the order," Yakov said as he just read the dispatch from the Ural Soviet. His cup of chai waiting for him.

"Me too," Ermakov replied while sipping his own chai. "Although it's a shame to have to execute the daughters as well! Why can't we keep them as prostitutes?"

"I'll have none of these shenanigans, Ermakov! I've already dismissed and replaced half the Lithuanians and nearly all the Estonians along with this drunkard of Captain Tarvydas! Thanks to his boys, two of the daughters are now pregnant. The youngster, Anastasia, was already this way when she first came here, since she displayed symptoms as soon as three weeks ago, but her sister Maria is now nauseous as well and I managed to torture Doctor Botkin and, after the removal of three of his fingernails, he finally confessed that Maria had missed her period. So this alone compels us to dispose of them."

"Why? I understand the boys may have preferred the younger daughters and..."

"Shut up and listen!" Yakov said as he drank a sip from his hot chai and explained the situation. "It's a matter of international legitimacy. The European powers already see us as a bunch of brigands wearing uniforms. If they got wind of the Grand Duchesses being abused to such a degree that two of them turned out pregnant, then it would be so much worse! And the entire people of Russia would turn against us! We can't have this! We can't allow them to live. The enemy is almost at the door! The Czech Legion is getting so close! They'll be here in a week, ten days at the most! No, we must kill them all. The Ural Soviet is right."

"How do we go about this? We take them to the forest and dispose of them? I know a bunch of friends who..."

"No! This gang of yours will only want to rape the girls, and then they'll likely want to keep them alive and use them some more, and then the Whites will eventually rescue and free them, or at least there's a high risk for this. Even a single Romanov heir still alive poses an existential threat for us. No! The job must be done clean and efficient. Right here! Yes, the back room. It's a half basement. We will gather them back there, every last one of them. They'll have nowhere to run and the gunshots shouldn't be heard too much if I have a truck stationed nearby with its motor running. The truck will then be used to transport the bodies and bury them somewhere in the forest. Your buddies will come in handy for the burial job."

"They won't be too happy to see the girls already dead!" Ermakov replied. Yakov struck the table with his fist and finished his chai.

"Pyotr! This is the most important mission of our career! If we botch this job, we'll be executed as well! So you better do as I say. To the hell with your buddies! We need men we can trust for this execution! Five to eight men on top of us for the firing squad, then at least ten more for the burial. Do you know a good spot for this?"

***

The next day, on 16 July, Yurovsky was informed by the Ural Soviets that Red Army contingents were retreating in all directions and the executions could not be delayed any longer. A coded telegram seeking final approval was sent at around 6 pm to Lenin in Moscow. No answer came back.

At 8 pm, Yurovsky sent his chauffeur to acquire a truck for transporting the bodies, along with rolls of canvas to wrap them in. The truck was to be parked close to the basement entrance, with its engine running, to mask the noise of gunshots.

Yurovsky and Pavel Medvedev, another of his aides, collected 14 handguns to use that night: two Browning pistols (one M1900 and one M1906), two Colt M1911 pistols, two Mauser C96s, one Smith & Wesson, and seven Belgian-made Nagants. The Nagant revolver operated on old black gunpowder which produced a good deal of smoke and fumes.

While the Romanovs were having dinner on 16 July 1918, Yurovsky entered the sitting room and informed them that kitchen boy Leonid Sednev was leaving to meet his uncle, Ivan Sednev, who had returned to the city asking to see him; Ivan had already been shot by the Cheka. The family was very upset as Leonid was Alexei's only playmate and he was the fifth member of the imperial entourage to be taken from them, but they were assured by Yurovsky that he would be back soon. Leonid was kept in the Popov House next door beyond the high palisade. Yurovsky saw no reason to kill him and wanted him removed before the execution took place.

That evening, the sunset was especially vivid with crimsons and a flurry of fiery pinks painting the crowded clouds, making them sing like a heavenly chorus with silent notes from a devil's accordion that puffed up their gathered masses with legions upon legions of ghastly shapes in glorious lights, all of it heavy with light over a darkening landscape of forests while Yeketerinburg and her church spears and belfries were bright like burning bronze in a world of orange light.

In his commandant's office, Yurovsky assigned victims to each killer before distributing the handguns. He took a Mauser and a Colt .45 pistol while Ermakov armed himself with three Nagants, one Mauser and a bayonet; he was the only one assigned to kill two prisoners (Alexandra and Botkin). Yurovsky instructed his men to "shoot straight at the heart to avoid an excessive quantity of blood and get it over quickly." Some of the men grinned and Yurovsky rebuked them and told them this was the most solemn duty of their life.

At least two of the Latvians, an Austro-Hungarian prisoner of war named Andras Verhas as well as Adolf Lepa, himself in charge of the Latvian contingent, refused to shoot the women. Yurovsky sent them to the Popov House for failing "at that important moment in their revolutionary duty". Neither Yurovsky nor any of the killers went into the logistics of how to efficiently destroy eleven bodies. He was under pressure to ensure that no remains would later be found by monarchists who would exploit them to rally anti-bolshevik support. The risk was very real.

***


Yakov Yurovsky's thoughts...

Around midnight on 17 July, I ordered the Romanovs' physician, Eugene Botkin, to awaken the sleeping family and ask them to put on their clothes, under the pretext that the family would be moved to a safe location due to impending chaos in Yekaterinburg. I didn't like the idea of executing people in cold blood, but it was something that had to be done, like cutting an old tree whose roots are threatening your house.

Ermakov was there, as drunk as that thick ball of black curly hair sits black on his head. Drunk, with his hair gunpowder black. Armed with the four pistols he took earlier that night. Grigory Nikulin stood there, as tall and professional as usual, and sober, along with Pavel Medvedev and four other men, who looked trustworthy enough, although I didn't like the way they kept looking at the daughters as the family walked across the stately dining room. I told Nikulin that he'd be my assistant for tonight's task. I heard the truck's engine start, and this had two of the daughters smiling as they did believe they were to be moved. The daughters were each carrying a dog. My heart sunk as I realized I'd have to kill them as well. I quietly ordered the men to stay in the dining room and wait five minutes. Only Nikulin followed me after the Romanovs.

I ordered the Romanovs into the semi-basement room I had chosen for the execution. All the family, their physician, their maid, their cook and their footman walked on. The former Czar Nicholas looked at me, all his past authority gone from his eyes. He was looking at me as a father concerned for his family.

"For a photo shoot," I said, with a grin. I hated myself for lying, but it had to be done. If they suspected anything, they'd panic and it would result in a chaotic mess where the girls would be more likely to be taken to their bedroom and raped than be shot, which would lead to a host of complications I wanted to avoid at all costs. If one of them survived to tell the tale, the Revolution could be lost. For one thing, I strongly suspected them to be hiding a large quantity of gems and jewels sewn inside their clothes. It was a miracle that none of the guards didn't discover at least some of them during all the groping that must have happened. Good thing I had changed most of the guards, again.

It was a rather large room, with a yellow wall that looked suddenly sickly to me with those vertical stripes of bluish gray, with, to my right, double doors that led to the small garden in the backyard; doors that had of course been shut. As the family and their servants took their spots for what they thought would be a photo shoot, they stood facing us with their backs to the wall. Nicholas and his wife Alexandra wore expensive clothes that were street-clothes to them, but looked glamorous to us. The same could be said of the travel dresses worn by the daughters. Anastasia presently let go of Jimmy, her spaniel, as her arms had got tired. Joy the cocker spaniel, sat at his master's feet, Alexeï, the boy who would never live to become a tyrant after his father.

I wasn't sure, but I felt Anastasia's belly looked a bit larger than two weeks before. I couldn't tell which was the most amoral thing between what had happened to her during her trip to Yekaterinburg or the fact she just turned seventeen and was to be murdered to-night. Murdered! Executed. I must not falter at this most important moment of my duty to the Revolution. Long live the Soviets!

There were only myself and Nikulin in this cellar room. I told citizen Nicholas to wait a little while they were having "some slight trouble with the Kodak". Grigory Nikulin presently whispered to me that "the heir wanted to die in a chair."

"Very well then, let him have one," I replied. While a chair was being brought to Nikolaï, I then told the prisoners to wait in the cellar room while the truck that would transport them was being brought to the House.

"But... but didn't we hear the motor of a truck just yet?!" said the valet Alexei Trupp, his eyes now filled with distrust and fear as he looked at me.

"We had some trouble with this one, so we're bringing in another one, an American brand, and this one will also be more comfortable, with a good suspension for the bumpy road ahead," I lied. I caught sight of the former Tsarevitch, who now sat with his dog on his lap. A pity to have to kill such a beautiful animal! Maybe if it ever survives I'll bring it to my house; my wife loves dogs. Maria my loving wife... These daughters are so pretty! Especially Maria Romanova. Which girl isn't pretty at nineteen? I know my men will try a way to rape them. I'm doing my best to prevent it.

Nicholas and Alexandra are looking straight at me, as if reading my thoughts. My hand goes into my frock and caresses the comforting handle of my Colt pistol. I hear footsteps behind me. Ermakov is suddenly there. With the five others.

Citizen Nicholas and his wife turn ghastly pale as they realize this is NOT a photo session.

I go into my revolver pocket and take my execution paper. I read loud with a voice meant to be powerful and strengthening in my grim resolve to carry out my task.

"Nikolai Alexandrovich, in view of the fact that your relatives are continuing their attack on Soviet Russia, the Ural Executive Committee has decided to execute you."

Nicholas, facing his family, turned and said "What? What?"

I quickly repeated the order and the weapons were raised. The gunshots were deafening in this enclosed space. I feared for my ears as I rose my American pistol and shot Nicholas four times through the chest and he fell back as the women began to scream. I saw Anastasia right behind him holding her belly with both hands while Alexandra was shot through the head by Ermakov. She had been signing herself.

Grand Duchess Olga tried to sign herself, but she fled in panic amid the chaos and tried to open the locked doors as bullets struck the wall near her.

Tatiana also ran for the double doors. Ermakov shot and hit her in the leg.

"God damned! I missed!" the intoxicated man said. Then he aimed at the young Tsarevitch and shot him to the chest from point-blank range. The boy fell from where he had been sitting in his chair while hugging his cocker spaniel. The dog fled between my legs while the other dogs retreated to a corner of the room and kept barking as the shooting went on and the caustic smoke began to thicken. All the men were now lying on the floor, each one apparently amid an expanding pool of blood. Anastasia was also lying down motionless while Maria knelt near her and began to pull her hair while screaming in panic.

I sent Alexey Kabanov, who ran onto the street to check the noise levels. The gunsmoke was now stinging my nose and prompting me into a mood where I felt like doing things I wouldn't normally do. The men kept shooting, but it was clear they kept missing the daughters on purpose.

"The youngster's dead. Too bad! I wanted her," said a man, Oleg Klokov.

"Yeah! But there are three left," said another man, who turned out to be Nikulin. Nikulin?!

The smoke and the noise were getting unbearable. Alexey Kabanov came back and said he had heard the dogs barking and the sound of gunshots loud and clear despite the noise from the Fiat truck's engine. We had to stop firing and kill the family and their dogs with our gun-butts and bayonets. Anyway, the smoke from the burnt gunpowder and the dust from the walls were now so thick that we barely could see our targets anymore.

"Stop firing! Hold your fire!" I shouted.

As the gunshots stopped, we heard the cries and whimpers from the girls, along with moans from a dying man. It was the footman, calling for his mother. Oleg walked to him and silenced him with a bayonet through the throat while the three remaining dogs kept barking like crazy. The dogs were swiftly dealt with by no less than four men, with bayonets. Tatiana screamed as she heard Ortipo being slaughtered. I hated this!

"Why can't you just die, little bastard?" Ermakov yelled as he fired another shot into Alexeï's torso. Then he tried to skewer him using a bayonet, but even this failed. I tossed him aside, aimed and shot the boy through the head with my Colt .45. Strangely enough, at this very moment, I remembered reading about an Olympic shooter by the name of Ivan Sidorov in the newspaper, a long time ago, during the summer of 1900, as my bullet left a clear hole in the boy's forehead and convinced his body to go to sleep, soon on an expanding blanket of blood.

"Let's get the girls!" Ermakov yelled as he charged forward into the thick smoke, in Maria's direction, while Pavel Medvedev and others went looking for Olga and Tatiana, whom I saw through a clearing in the smoke; she presently sat against the damaged wall, holding her wounded thigh. Both girls let out screams. It was a different kind of screaming as they were being grabbed, although I could barely see anything in this smoke that just wouldn't settle. I ordered my men to unlock and open the doors to clear this out.

I had to open the doors myself as the men grabbed all three girls like sex-starved monkeys! Only death was sparing the youngster from this.

As I opened the doors, I saw the maid, Anna Demidova trying to protect herself by holding a pillow over her face, her back to the wall. But Nikulin grabbed her by the hair and shot her through the head. The woman fell as her blood splattered a surprisingly large area of that sickly yellowish wall.

"This one's too old! Let's take our pleasure inside the surviving girls!" Nikulin said. He bitterly disappointed me!

"Naaaoooooo! Noo! Please just kill us!" I heard Maria beg. Her voice! So lovely...

"Do as you please with us! But please don't kill us!" Olga pleaded.

"Not so proud now, aren't we?" Ermakov said somewhere amid the smoke. "Now leave your little sister, she's dead. Lie down and show us your tits!"

"AAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA NNNAAAOOOOOOO NOT THIS AGAIN!!! AAAH AAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHRRR RRRRRHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AA NNOOO..."

Maria's screams were painfully filling the room. The whole street must be hearing her! We had to kill her at once!

"Get it done quick!" I shouted. But my voice got lost in a new kind of chaos. I heard some grunting amid girly whimpering and it was clear that some girl was being raped somewhere in this caustic smoke that just wouldn't abate. I noticed I had a raging erection and kept thinking of Maria. Not my wife. Maria Romanova, nineteen springs. It is not every day that a forty-year-old bloke like myself can fuck such a young lady for free. I hate to admit it, but that's when my own discipline failed!

I walked to where Maria kept loudly protesting and found Ermakov in the act of tearing her dress-top open while Kabanov was holding her arms above her head. Ermakov then strained against her sides and he was a strong man. The corset's busks came off the hooks right away and her corset was opened from the front. Intoxicated by a rush of lust, I helped Ermakov in freeing Maria from her corset.

And then, with a wild grunt of victory, Ermakov tore her nightgown wide open. The loud sharp sound of the tearing fabric will always ring to my ears as I will always remember the ghastly sensual sight of Maria Romanova's breasts being revealed to me, like the softer side of an old regime it was my duty to kill. My erection went insane! Painful!

I watched Ermakov as he hastily undid his trousers and forced himself inside the screaming girl while Kabanov kept holding her wrists together on top of her screaming head. Both men smiled down on her, their eyes devouring her, their faces half-clown, half-demon. Only then did I notice her dress had already been tucked all the way up her waist.

She screamed even louder and shriller when Ermakov entered inside her.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhhrrrrrrrrrrr yeahhh!" the drunkard uttered as he began to pound the poor girl, who now screamed at the top of her voice, shaking her head in frantic refusal while Kabanov laughed at her while holding her wrists.

Ermakov raped her while propping himself up on straight arms so he could admire the non-stop shaking of her head along with the cock-stiffening grace of her perky breasts, their cream paleness as the smoke began to dissipate, the delicate paleness of dancing nipples on top of these jiggling breasts that would soon be no more. What a pity I had to kill and also destroy such a body! And I was now dying to give it my semen.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" Ermakov yelled as he exploded inside the former Grand Duchess.

"hhhhnnGGH NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNhhmmmm!!!" I heard someone utter. A man who was exploding inside Olga or Tatiana. None of the surviving daughters were spared from having their dresses tucked up to their waistline. I tried hard to convince myself I had some morality left by pretending to believe that Anastasia had not been shot by accident.

"Yes! Yes! Let's rape all their women! Let's fuck their women!" I yelled as I hastily moved in onto Grand Duchess Maria and the splendour of her breasts while Ermakov already stood and was now re-buttoning his trousers.

Facing Maria, I felt her inner thighs against the sides of my frock and regretted not having taken it off. It was now too warm and I was sweating like a pig. No time to waste! The girl kept screaming like a madhouse case while Kabanov kept holding her wrists together, his eyes silently urging me to get it done quick. My entire body was moving by itself. I abused my own status of authority and plunged onto her breasts and began to suck them! Her ever-moving nipples had the taste of deity being profaned as I her soft flesh yielded under my hands. It felt as if her breasts were shrieking because I was profaning them. A golden chain was loose on her upper chest where Ermakov had pulled off a golden cross. Brigand!

"Let's take our turns inside them!" I shouted before I was silenced by some cathedral walls that suddenly got very narrow and enclosed myself inside a tiny tight cell of pure pleasure. I was inside Maria Romanova! Raping her! "Let's rape all their women! Yeah! We won! We won! We won! Yeaahh! Yeah yeahh yeahh yeh yeehh aahrraa yeahhh..."

I was in a rage! Rape! That's all I could think of. Maria's breasts! Jiggling under me. My arms tensed as I kept raping her and enjoying the lovely motions of her pale breasts that moved to each of my commanding thrusts, snowy tits between white curtains of profaned royalty, as I soon reached my edge and yelled one beast of a cry, feeling the deep guilt of cheating on my wife with the wrong Maria, just as the blissful pain tore me in two and I couldn't do anything but scream my bliss as I bred her! Her and her nineteen springs! Half my age! Twice my usual load.

My legs were in rubber, quite wobbly, as I stood beside Ermakov and watched Kabanov as he raped Maria. From behind. He had rolled her around in all urgency and was now lying upon her and raping her while grunting like a rutting deer where she lay on her stomach. The collisions on her buttocks made slapping sounds that I found weirdly fascinating. One of the dead men, the cook, lay quite close, and the pool of his blood now reached Maria, who kept crying and whimpering under the barrage from Kabanov and his satisfied grunting. I was hypnotized by the spot where his peasant's lap kept meeting the curves of her buttocks amid the dark chaos of her tucked-up dress.

"Well, boss," Ermakov said, "none of the Grand Duchesses will die a virgin. We made sure of that!"

The smoke had cleared enough for me to witness Olga's and Tatiana's rape in progress. I could imagine how the girls must have frantically tried and failed to enter inside the damaged wall and go through it as they were grabbed and their dresses were soon tucked up along with their gowns underneath, tucked up high enough to uncover their butts. I remembered having heard slapping sounds and it must have been these slabs of flesh getting slapped in a mocking gesture. Now they were being gang-raped while their parents both lay dead.

Olga was whimpering loud, her wrists held together in front of her as three men held her bent over, and the third man, Pavel Medvedev, presently took his pleasure where she stood. "Yes, yes, do all you please with us, but let us live!" Olga kept saying while she kept being shaken by Pavel's enthusiastic thrusts. He kept holding her tossed-up dress against her waist and kept feeding her with deep thrusts, his grunts saying aloud he had been wanting this to happen.

"Naaa naaaa! Naa nieet!!!" Tatiana kept uttering as she was herself raped the same way, except she was down on all fours and the man holding her waist was bragging he was raping her for the second time in less than five minutes!

"Right down her ass chimney this time!" the man blurted out as he got touched by the gods. "UU-uuGGHH!!! aaAAAHH! So good to use them!"

As soon as he was done, the other man knelt down behind the once-dignified girl, and had his way with Grand Duchess Tatiana Romanova of Russia. "Naa! Naahhaaah! Naaahhh..." she uttered as she got penetrated deep and hard inside her ass!

"AAAA AAAAAAAA AAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

This was Kabanov as he died inside Maria.

Taken by a second rush of anticipation, I threw away the cigarette I was halfway through and sank down on my knees next to Maria's exposed butt where she still lay on her stomach. The poor girl was in tears, understandably so.

I licked this lovely butt! Nineteen! She was just nineteen! Aahh! The butt of a young lady! A girl I would normally call "young lady". I became crazy-mad as I licked, licked and licked those buns of vast heavenly skin! Maria's butt was now my world!

There was a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and saw Nikulin, with worry in his eyes.

"Commandant, it's been almost twenty minutes. We must close the deal!"

"Yeah!" I said with reluctance. Then I rolled Maria over and was once more hit by the dazzling sight of her breasts!

I remained on my knees and masturbated like a madman over Maria's cream-white breasts. Her pale nipples offering me a world I would never belong to. The girl was in tears. She looked at me with a mix of hope and disgust as I masturbated and soon entered the kingdom of no return.

"Aaaaah aaah aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGDDJJHHHHHUU..."

I loved the sight as my raging bolts of semen landed in a glossy heap on her profaned breasts! The ruins of her gown on each side reflected the urgency of her final rape.

"Good idea, boss!" Ermakov said as he also sank to his knees and soon gave another steaming load of jism to the crying girl. "Aaaaaahhh... So good to give her the icing on the cake! All right! Let's get going!"

And without even bothering to re-do his trousers, Ermakov pulled out his Mauser pistol from his belt, and against orders he fired twice right between Maria's breasts. After the deafening sounds, I saw the dead girl shed one final tear, her eyes half-closed as if surprised in her hope to live on as a prostitute and the mother of a bastard child. I didn't dare to look at the bloody mess of her bosom where her blood was now mixed with my own semen. Who would have thought a Grand Duchess could die like this?

Another man also acted against orders. With his cock still out and flaccid, he shot Tatiana in the back of her head after she managed to get up and once more tried to flee through the wall she was facing. She made almost no noise as she fell, while Olga was silently bayoneted through the throat by Nikulin.

Twenty minutes! We could have dispatched all of them much faster. The backside of our souls had other plans.

"All right!" I said. "Make sure they're all dead and load the bodies inside the truck! The Romanovs are dead. Long live the Soviets!"

TO BE CONTINUED

[HistBuff]

Note: Things get even darker here. This is the darkest chapter I've ever written and I had a tough time rewriting certain passages to avoid excess gore and necrophilia while remaining faithful to the original version. The Camille Saint-Saëns Danse Macabre was written in 1872.


Chapter 14: Danse Macabre

Yakov Yurovsky's thoughts...

Some of my men were looking at Maria's body, staring at her still breasts, both horrified and fascinated by the bloody bullet wounds between such gorgeous orbs.

"Enough of this!" I barked, my Mauser ominous in my hand, reminding them of the Soviet authority in my person. "Now let's get started! Pavel, Nikulin! Get the men moving! We must load the bodies on that truck! We have a long way ahead of us. Ermakov! Stop looking at Maria's tits and help us!"

The drunkard half-obeyed, half-kept on looking at Maria; her bosom was still something to behold even with this bloody mess left by two shots between them. Her sternum must have been broken by the impacts. I noticed that a rosy foam of blood and slobber was ebbing from her ajar mouth as Ermakov and another man began to remove her torn-open nightgown along with her dress, all the way along her dead legs, not without groping her while doing so.

While the men were busy moving the corpses, I quickly examined Maria's undergarments and found that nothing had been sewn inside her corset, which confirmed my suspicion that her family had ceased to trust her because she was a bit too flirtatious with the guards.

At that very moment, I found myself wishing I had met such a girl like Maria Romanova earlier in my life and remembered the time I had spent inside her. It may sound strange, perhaps evil, but I never had intimacy with a woman without feeling a strong bond of affection for her. And besides, I had only had sex with two Marias, the one that was now a naked corpse being loaded in the back of a truck, and my wife. I felt so riddled by guilt! What was I thinking? I didn't deserve a wife like Maria.

It was quite an ordeal to keep the men focused on their task. Pavel Medvedev began kissing Olga's bare feet as soon as he had removed her shoes and her long socks. I had to use all my leadership skills to keep them going when one man decided that kissing Tatiana's legs and feet under her dress was a fun thing to do after she had been shot dead, then another decided to masturbate and didn't have time to go further before I scolded him back to work. Even Alexandra their mother wasn't spared such indignities. I repeatedly ordered the men to leave the female corpses clothed, barring Maria who had already been stripped.

I saw to it that Maria's body was properly wrapped in a blanket and put in a corner of the truck's cargo bed. I closely supervised the operation. The female corpses were laid onto the ground over blankets, then wrapped in them as per Nikulin's instructions. The male corpses, barring the former Czar, were summarily wrapped in blankets, then thrown onto the roof-less cargo bed like sacks of potatoes, as per Ermakov's instructions. The man was so drunk!

"Ermakov, go get the shovels! We need them for the burial!" I said. Bloody drunkard!

Some of the men couldn't help themselves and covered Anastasia's face with kisses, where she still lay on the ground. Others had unwrapped her body and were now lifting her dress and covering her legs and bare feet with kisses galore after removing her socks and shoes like they had seen done to Olga's and Tania's bodies. Pavel ordered the men to "wrap that corpse again and get the deuce back to work!" What a sordid affair this was! The worst was to admit to myself that I did feel the urge and curiosity to do the same and perhaps more with Anastasia's body, for she looked quite charming, even in death.

I looked at her. Her face had been left uncovered when the men hastily obeyed, but couldn't help but stop wrapping her at her neck. Her cheeks so soft and smooth, still rosy in this display of a sleeping maiden's face that made one think she'd suddenly wake up from her slumber and ask for "some strawberries with whipped cream, like they do it in England!" as I had heard her say a couple of times as of late. Poor girl! Having this done to her was so against my Lutheran beliefs... Just having had intercourse with a lady who wasn't my wife had been sacrilege enough!

"I said get back to work! We still have a lot of work to do! Remember, the Ural Soviet have their eyes set on us! We can't botch this job!"

The mention of the Ural Soviet had a powerful effect on the men. As they realized what danger they'd be in if they failed, they became very zealous and soon enough, nearly all the wrapped bodies were in the truck, together in a heap, with Maria's body left alone in a different corner of the cargo bed, and a bit loosely wrapped, no doubt because the men had it in their head to grope the corpse all the time during the ride.

"If I catch anyone of you groping a dead girl during the ride, I'll have him shot!" I thundered. "Now get it over with! Pavel! Nikulin! See to it that they behave!"

I had first planned to have all the female bodies stripped and their clothes and belongings stored in my office, but I had found this to be impossible to do without the men losing all semblance of discipline. Most men seem to lose the ability to think straight when in the vicinity of some pretty girl to fuck or abuse, even when she's a corpse. I would later write in my report that the men were remarkable in their discipline and didn't steal anything from the bodies. I would of course make no mention of the rapes and state that the execution took about 10 minutes to carry out, due to the caustic smoke having forced us to wait a few minutes until it cleared out, before finishing off any survivors with bayonets.

As Pavel and Nikulin were picking up her body to load her onto the truck, Anastasia rose from her blanket!

She sat, her eyes wide open and staring up at the myriad of stars, she took one large breath and shouted, "Ivan! Ivan Sidorov! I love you! You and I forever!"

"She's still alive?!" Pavel ejaculated, his face as white as death. He and Nikulin walked away as if they had seen a ghost!

"Ivan, my love forever! Come and take me away! Forever!"

"The little tramp! Why can't she just daredevil die? Die now, little cheap tramp!" Ermakov yelled at the youngster as he began to bayonet her face and kept at it again, again and again, even after she had fallen back and after he had skewered her twice in the throat. Two of my men walked away and vomited. I myself looked away. Ermakov was horribly drunk. I felt like dismissing him on the spot, but I needed him to keep control of those men who worked for him, and who were waiting for us down the road near the site chosen for the disposal of the bodies.

Oleg had been hitting Nicholas's face with the butt of his pistol repeatedly for quite a while when I ordered him to stop and help loading this last corpse inside the Fiat truck, whose engine had been kept idling for half an hour straight. Three or four times more, I had to stop the men from unwrapping and contemplating, or even worshiping the bodies of Maria, Olga and Tatiana, while they had quickly wrapped Anastasia's remains inside her blanket.

***

I sat beside the driver as the truck, heavily laden, left Yekaterinburg, the engine roaring with its 60 horsepower on the road bound for the Koptyaki forest, with the men cramped together behind with the corpses. I had entrusted Pavel Medvedev and Nikulin to see to it that none of the men did anything funny with the dead girls. Heavily laden, the vehicle began to struggle on the road as it soon turned boggy.

It struggled on for the better part of an hour, about fourteen verstes (9 miles) before reaching the Koptyaki forest. A bit less of a verst further on, near the crossing no. 185, the truck's sluggish headlights showed me a group of men. Those were no doubt the men working for Ermakov. They were waiting with horses and light carts. The driver stopped close by, leaving the headlights on. I noticed that these men were nearly all armed with a rifle and I didn't like this.

As we disembarked, Ermakov came straight to their leader, some heavy-set drunkard who looked obtuse-minded in unkempt clothes, predictably so. He also looked dangerous with a holstered Nagant, which I noticed he was carrying low, plump where his hand would fall to draw it. This was worse company than I had thought, a bunch of absolute brigands. Ermakov bitterly disappointed me!

I went to the back of the truck while Ermakov and my men where cheering and chatting along with those men, who began smoking. There was only one shovel near the wrapped corpses.

"One shovel! You brought only one shovel for the burial?!" I yelled at Ermakov without looking at the leader of this collection of drunkards.

"Is this true? The girls are already dead?" replied the leader, uninvited. He wore an incredibly greasy black soft cap and had the face of some fat fish that had somehow turned into a human, a degenerate one at that, albeit his right hand was hoovering close to his holstered revolver. Although he was intoxicated with his eyelids heavy with vodka amid the face of some yellowish fishy Buddha, the yellow headlights from the truck showed something sharp in his eyes.

"The girls are all dead!" he said after a few seconds, translating my silence into yes. His men, all twenty of them, if not twenty-five, had been drinking and they were soon outraged upon learning that the prisoners were not brought to them alive. They went to check and became enraged when they unwrapped the bodies and found that the Romanov daughters were all dead.

As they found Maria's body without any clothes, they understood that we clearly had done things to the girls before killing them! This was getting seriously dangerous. One of the drunkards walked away to vomit when his buddies uncovered Anastasia's disfigured face.

"So you had some fun of your own, eh?" the fish-fat leader said, his mouth showing peculiarly thick lips, walking right up to me, all six feet of him as I suddenly noticed he had drawn his gun while my eyes failed to see it, so swift the move had been! He reeked vodka, yet he looked at me with sharp death in his eyes.

"All right boys, unload the goods and let's see if there's some flesh still good to use there!" the drunkard in chief barked while pointing his gun at me.

"The Soviet will have you shot for this!" I barked back, standing tall and keeping my composure, although I feared there could be bloodshed. Pavel and Nikulin drew their own handguns, but were outnumbered by no less than eight or ten drunkards who pointed their rifles at them. Ermakov stood by and said nothing; the traitor! The rest of the men unbuckled their belts, dropping all their weapons as they raised their hands in surrender. I have to admit there wasn't much else to do. The drunkards had clearly planned to gang-rape the daughters and had armed themselves to make their intention a sure thing.

The leader spoke again.

"Look, my dear Comrade, you're outnumbered! So, you had some fun with the girls! Who are we to blame you!" spoke the man with his fishy thick lips that made his smiling face look grotesque and even more intensely yellow in the truck's headlights as his eyes narrowed with deep wrinkles in their corner. He removed his greasy cap, showing a shiny bald head as his narrowed eyes exploded with anticipation, his big smiling face both evil and clownish, as one of his men reported that one girl was still breathing.

It was like a rush for gold! All the men at once, my own and them, made for the back of the Fiat truck! Some of those men had lanterns, and it was found that Maria was the one still breathing. The lanterns shone on the ghastly splendour of her bosom where she lay on the ground amid her open blanket, offering a macabre painting where youth met blood and tragedy, both ready for death and ready for breast feeding.

The slight rising of her chest gave the tell-tale sign she was indeed still breathing. The dark blanket made her radiantly pale under these golden lights as the men who had them stooped down and all Maria was revealed to those drunkards who, only yesterday, would have been jailed, then executed, for getting too close to a fully dressed Grand Duchess. Now she was naked and closely surrounded by drunkards. Almost a corpse.

"Yeepi! Look at her tits! Fun time!" said one of them.

"All right boys! Take her over there, yeah, the place looks flat and dry enough. We do her in order. I go first!" said the leader with his fishy-fat face almost bursting with joy, his eyes burning with madness as he only thought of sinking inside the Grand Duchess.

"But wait! What if she's un-dead?!"

"Yes! She's nosferatu! She rose from her own death! I'm out!" yapped one man as he took to his heels, followed by a few more drunkards.

"Nosferatu! Nosferatu!"

"She's a witch! Rasputin cast an evil spell on her! Run! Run before it's too late!"

Several more men ran for their lives, leaving about half of their mates, maybe thirteen men, who called them "a bunch of scared old women" along with the heavy-set leader, who presently plunged onto Maria's still breathing body and began to suck her perky breasts, not minding the dark patch of dry blood and the two bullet holes in the middle of her cleavage.

The dirty remaining dozen were in a berserk state with only one thought. Fucking Maria. Some fired rifle-shots at the stars as they celebrated. Others drank some left-over vodka.

Most of my men were alas in a similar state, and three of the drunkards kept enough foresight to keep our bundled weapons under watch. These sharper men pointed their rifles at me, Pavel and Nikulin and we had to comply and turn in all our pistols, including the Smith & Wesson .38 revolver, which one of the men took and slid under his belt after looking at it as if it were a holy relic.

"Buckaroo," I heard him say. He had a strong Lithuanian accent. I suddenly shivered as if a ghost stood nearby watching Maria's ultimate defilement.

Unarmed, I walked into the circle of men, along with Pavel and Nikulin. Ermakov, his pistols still under his belt, stood by and smiled while the drunkard in chief knelt between Maria's spread out legs. He dropped his trousers and let out a wicked erection. It was wicked due to its twisted shape on top of its size, which was quite impressive. As he began to masturbate in a celebratory manner, Maria moaned in pain.

She half opened her eyes and I saw the terror in them. Upon looking at the pleasing, yet ghastly softness of her flattened breasts where she lay, I had a sudden urge myself to fuck her one last time, and felt insanely curious to witness the improbable encounter between this overweight, balding drunkard with a fish-fat face of yellow skin and Grand Duchess Maria Romanova of Russia. This was more a danse macabre than a gang-rape, and yet I now felt horny and the deepest fibres within me wanted to be part of it.

The dance began.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHRRRR AT LAST!" grunted the fishy drunkard in chief as he found himself imprisoned inside Maria, who must feel very tight indeed for a man with such a large one, and he had no option left other than begin to pound her, which he did in a brutal style that perfectly suited him. His shiny bald head signed the crime in his personal yellowish way on top of the half dead girl.

"Aaah Aaak Aaah Aaaahh Aah ooh, yeah, good fuck! Aaah, YEAAHHH! very good fuck!"

His words and his grunting echoed against the nearby trees as he took his vile pleasure, propped up on his arms like I did myself, and Ermakov as well when we raped her in the house's cellar during the execution.

Maria took the pounding with her head bobbing, feebly moaning with pinkish foam always coming out of her mouth, always with the same terror in her eyes as she kept gazing at her ugly rapist, as if asking him why he was doing this or whether he had a daughter of her age, while he didn't mind the dark spot of dried blood between her jiggling breasts; they looked fantastic with her ever-dancing nipples bathed by the golden light from the lanterns held low and close by for the best view on her defiled splendour.

A clear ill smell emanated from that heavy man who kept plowing her while showing us how hairy his butt was. His grunts easily buried her feeble moans...

"Aaah... Aah! At last! A Romanov! I can fuck herrrhh! AAA AAAA AAAAAAAA YEAH IT'S THERE! AT LAST! AT LAST YES YES YES YES YES! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHRR YEAHH!!! uugghh..."

After this ghastly unthinkable act, the vile man got back up on his feet and used the top of his hand to rub the frothing slobber off his thick fishy lips as he looked directly at me and nodded.

"She's a very good fuck! How can I blame you, pal?" he finally said, smiling as he put his filthy trousers back together and made sure his Nagant was still in its holster. He then stepped back where he could keep us under his watchful eye.

What happened next would be the most despicable and evil thing I've ever seen. And I was shamefully part of it. As the rest of the drunkards took their pleasure inside Maria in the same way as their leader, others didn't want to wait and went to look for the other female bodies. They found Olga and Tatiana, both as dead as a door nail, Olga with her skewered throat and Tatiana with her bullet wound that had entered the back of her head and left a ghastly wider opening in the middle of her forehead.

"Get back in line and wait your turn for the girl still alive!" the fish-fat leader barked at his men who instantly obeyed and left both corpses where they lay. "After all, we ain't monsters! Isn't that right, pal?" he added, smiling at me like a fishy grimace from his thick lips still wet from the profusion of slobber he dropped on Maria when he used her.

The long line-up of his men and mine took their turns inside her, always on top of her where they could look at her and at her ever-dancing breasts as they filled her up.

Ermakov was presently screaming his bliss as he relieved himself inside Maria, whose feeble moaning told me she was still alive and aware of what was being done to her body. Men fired more rifle-shots and cheered. "Bring the vodka! I want to lick it off her tits!" said one drunkard.

"Let's see her ass! Let's drink vodka off her butt!" ejaculated another.

"Hurray! We won!"

More rifle-shots tore the still of the night... Poww! Pow ppoww!!!

"Yeah, let's kiss and lick her butt! Then fuck her like the bitch she is!"

"The witch! Rasputin had her under his spell. We must purify her! Yeeepi!!!"

"Hrrr hrr hrr hrrr hrrr aaaaahh, she's a good fuck-- nnNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!"

"You didn't last long, Boris! My turn now! Let's see if she's as tight as Robolski says."

Maria's ordeal went on. They had rolled her around and now held her in place, on her knees and elbows as her moaning shifted, with clear notes of pain. The man bragged he was now "raping her royal ass!" and he laughed as he sodomized her, very painfully so as the dying girl no doubt wished she were dead.

The unkempt man, his face dark with soot which told me he was probably a coal-man, ended up his act of sodomy with an angry yet grinning face as he fiercely drove Maria by her waist, forcing us all to behold the curves and grace of her ever-colliding butt, with her primal butt-crack completing the picture and intensifying the golden cream of her skin under the lanterns. I was masturbating and as hard as a rutting orangutan!

The man looked up at the starry sky and let out one beast of a growl, answered by a feeble moan from the suffering girl, as he flooded her rectum and lower bowels with his sludge.

Her limp body was being held on all fours and I couldn't help but notice how gorgeous she was in the nude! Once or twice, I had felt a violent urge to take a few men and drag her into my office, strip her naked and see how beautiful she must be without any clothes. What I saw was beyond my wildest expectations! I had always hesitated between her and Olga, whom I suspected could very well turn out to be the most beautiful naked woman I had ever seen!

Just from looking at Olga's bare lower legs and feet where her body lay, I surmised that the Prince of Romania would have pushed for marriage with a lot more zeal if he had known how gorgeous Olga's body truly was. I felt deeply ashamed as I felt I just couldn't wait to strip her corpse and see it in the nude.

Two of the drunkards were stepping off the truck while one of them was bragging he had just fingered the former Czarina and said, "Now I can die in peace!"

They both stopped dead in their tracks and looked at Olga's feet.

"The action is there! Get in line and wait your turn!" I ordered them, and they obeyed, leaving me a bit surprised.

Maria was still suffering on all fours, her arms kept straight by men surrounding it and offering the loveliest bottom and backside one could imagine! Let alone mentioning her legs and feet to die for. Both men rushed at the scene and began to masturbate in frantic exertions.

The present man inside Maria lasted no more than thirty seconds of bliss where he kept her inert waist under his firm hold and went at it in urgent collisions against this butt from heaven. Her buns of flesh resonated in soft slapping sounds with the girly fat rolling and giving the illusion she was still in good health, but the dying girl took the pounding in silence, only broken by feeble moans. The man screamed like a banshee when he exploded.

The next man eagerly followed suit, and didn't last much longer. He gave Maria's beauty a tribute in the form of a great deal of foaming slobber as he raped her with his mouth wide open, his eyes consumed by lust as he doubled down and went into a frenzy where he screamed all through his finale, his hands clutching the crease of her hips as he flooded her with living sperm while shouting, "Nosferatu!"

Her soft curves were a song to watch against his lap. I suddenly realized the man was none other than Nikulin!

I was crazy! Once more I had a raging erection. The leader of the drunkards laughed at me as I undid my trousers and began to masturbate again. I didn't care.

"Now you're a real pal!" the leader said. He even tapped my shoulder in a friendly way. "By the way, I'm Igor Robolski. I'll tell you what. Once we're done with out little, uh, our little celebration here, we'll help you with the bodies. There's a mine shaft at the site, ten metres deep, so we'll just drop the bodies there and bury them. But first, we'll enjoy the tyrant's daughter. Too bad he's too dead to watch this! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

I didn't care anymore. Whatever! I was under an evil spell, unable to take my eyes off Maria Romanova of Russia and her unreal nakedness, her butt! What a gorgeous thing it was! I was as stiff as an oak branch!

Maria was still feebly moaning amid a rape that could turn into her pagan funerals at any moment. I waited and masturbated on while three more men, the truck's driver among them, took their turns, each one sounding like a shot or dying man when he emptied his balls inside what looked like the most beautiful vampiress in the nude.

At last came my turn to rape Maria! Again! From behind this time...

As my Lutheran soul was beyond ashamed, I sank my knees on the ground behind the Grand Duchess, and while Pavel and others kept her firmly in place on its hands and knees, I speared my erection inside Maria and let out one yell of horror and delight as I pushed deep inside and put my hands on her buttocks, feeling their soft warmth that radiated with life. My fingers felt the yielding flesh and convinced me I was one with a young lady who had her whole life ahead of her. I pounded her, abandoning my soul into this act of barbarism!

I let my body grunt all it wanted as I repeated the lovely collisions amid jeering drunkards, one of whom spilled some vodka on Maria's butt as I had my stiff way inside her and accelerated upon feeling the throbbing coming of my edge.

Oh! Good Lord! Save my damned soul! It felt beyond good! It was so painfully, unforgivably good when I erupted inside Maria like a full-blown geyser! It felt just as satisfying as raping Carmilla after finding the vampiress asleep and then raping her young body after stripping her out of her death-white gown. Ungodly so! Oh Lord did I scream!

***

Maria was rolled over again for the leader, who insisted on looking at her breasts. Robolski took another turn inside her. I thought I heard Maria's feeble moaning, but it was no more. Maria was no more? Dead under Robolski's overweight thrusts? No, she was still moaning, albeit so feebly now... Robolski kept pounding her until he screamed at her bobbing face as he ejaculated forcefully, his final moan sounding like a man in deep pain and devoid of hope.

Three or four of the men who had run away came back. One was brave enough to rape Maria. The others just remained there, visibly too afraid to go any closer. They undid their trousers and began to masturbate.

Many men kept their hands on Maria's breasts as they raped her, making her whimper from the pressure and not minding the ugly blotch of dark dry blood between her pressed tits. I was shocked. She was still alive?! After all this?!

Somewhere in the never-ending succession of urgent rapes and return customers who were having her a second or even a third time, Maria's eyes became glossy again. She entered a sudden spell of stertorious breathing and opened her eyes. She looked straight up at her rapist with death in her eyes.

Terrified, the man pulled out of her, got back on his feet and ran for his life! Leaving his rifle there. Holding his open trousers with both hands so he could keep running. "Nosferatu! Nosferatu!" he yelled with preternatural force as he fled.

We all stepped back and formed a wider circle around Maria, who raised her head and looked around her, her gaze hitting each and everyone of us, while her stertorious breathing continued and she opened her mouth. Was it a trick of the light or my own imagination? I could have sworn her canine teeth had grown long! Perhaps it was just the lack of sleep and the high tension from the execution.

Many men sank to their knees and began to pray in frantic terror, begging God to forgive them for they had sinned.

Maria now lay still in the silence of our fear. Her empty eyes remained open as she seemed to gaze at the stars, but nothing was there anymore. What a pity to see the death of such beautiful eyes! She had her whole life ahead of her. We were all damned souls!

"The Czarist witch! She deserves this!" Pavel Medvedev ejaculated. The girl seemed asleep. I was no longer horrified by the twin bullet holes in her chest. She made a very beautiful corpse.

She suddenly looked as if she were stirring and about to open her eyes, my blood ran cold, but it was only a sudden gust of wind that had stirred her hair. The dark dry-blood valley between her breasts would always haunt me. And yet she made a very beautiful corpse.

***

A glimmer of grey light in the eastern sky told us we had been at it for too long. Robolski and Ermakov gave orders and all the remaining drunkards began to wrap the bodies anew inside the blankets. They carried them all to the horse-drawn carts, where they loaded them pell-mell, about three or four bodies for each cart, except the last one who received two.

The blankets were wrapped reluctantly over Tatiana's bosom and Olga's equally intact breasts while Oleg kept congratulating Nikulin for the efficient manner he had executed Olga.

"A clean execution it was! Just like it ought to be done! Plump in the middle of the throat! Plump in the middle! Leaving the breasts clean and gorgeous!" Oleg kept saying as he got busy and helped the others in loading the wrapped bodies in the waiting carts, while Lucifer* broke above the horizon, a bright dot of light that heralded the coming of a new day. The first day the Romanovs were no more. (* Venus)

My legs were still wobbly from the insane ejaculation I had experienced during the danse macabre we had with the last Romanov alive.

I climbed back at the front of the truck and ignored the driver's remark about "the jolly good fuck he'd just had". The truck resumed its snail's pace journey on the boggy road, followed by the horse-drafted carts loaded with the bodies and the cock-satisfied drunkards walking behind them. The sky looked bloody red with a high world of pink hues intensifying against small and thin cream-grey clouds as I watched the sunrise, my damned soul lost in a world of fiery golden light as the sun suddenly pointed her accusing rays upon my head.

At one point, the Fiat truck got bogged down on marshy terrain. Its valiant 60-hp motor roared, but the tires spun and got even deeper in this old Siberian mud while the sun began her daily climb as if smiling down on us.

"I like to call the sun a she like they do in Germany, although I don't speak a word of German," I remarked to the waiting driver while men pushed at the stubborn truck to no avail.

So we went on on foot. Thankfully, the burial site wasn't too far. Only a bit more than a half verst.

The idea of seeing the girls topless under the sun became too strong a temptation for all of us. Once at the site, we unwrapped all dead girls except Anastasia. Robolski had the former Czar's body moved where they left it sitting against a tall pine, where it seemed to be watching as the three elder daughters were unwrapped out of their dark blankets and they looked splendidly gorgeous in a show of erotic horror under the brightening sun. One of the drunkard said he was a painter and it was a pity there was no time for art, that it was evil to kill such lovely ladies.

Tatiana's unsightly wound amid her forehead looked strange and out of place against the graceful nakedness displayed by her corpse, complete with the radiating darkness of her pubic hair that occupied a large area in the south of her sun-bathed hips. The sunny play of her breasts with nipples pointing here and there above shadows on a bright and slim anatomy, made it look like she was still alive and could open her eyes at any moment and turn us all into stone; so classic was the sleeping beauty of her face.

Maria's breasts offered a macabre sight with that patch of dry blood left by the bullets. And yet I felt drawn to this sunny display of knolls of glorious cream-pale skin gently pushed out of her dead torso, where vile unkempt men held the corpse standing, profaning its sacred dignity with their gazes. None of the men did anything more to this beautiful body. We were all scared of touching it more, so we just contemplated Maria's sunny figure and tried to solve the enigma of her seamless curves, like one looking at an Italian sun-bathed painting in a museum. For Maria was no more.

Olga's corpse struck me like thunder! I had never, and I mean never seen such a gorgeous woman in the nude. She was the type of girl whose beauty increases as she advances in her twenties to reach a point of lovely culmination at thirty. I had to restrain myself not to rush at her and begin to kiss her feet! I felt pity for the Prince of Romania! So close he had been to become the world's luckiest man! Every man was in absolute awe in front of Olga's sun-bathed beauty.

"What a pity!" said one, leaving any indecent rest of his sentence to his own thoughts.

"I know! Robolski won't hear of it! So we look and we do not touch!"

All this grim circus of contemplation unfolded in front of the dead Czar and the equally dead Czarina, whose body had also been left sitting against the same tall pine, right beside her dead husband.

Then, when all was said and done, a man holding a large Turkish yatagan began to scream in alarm. "The vampiress! We must drive a wooden stake through her heart and cut her head off!" and on this, the madman went straight at Maria's body and drove the yatagan through her torso where the body had been left lying. The long curved blade went right through it and struck the muddy ground underneath.

"Here, a branch! It will do, it's pointy enough!" and, after a few quick knife strokes to further sharpen its point, the madman handed the large curvy branch to the man with the yatagan. Once he had set down his Turkish sabre on the ground, the first madman was helped by the second one and together, they both drove the pointy branch inside Maria's bosom at her left side, causing much blood to flow down on the mud as they strained and strained, doing their utmost to drive this thing right through her body. We watched, unable to believe our eyes, in some trance of horror while the sun seemed to dance above the whole thing.

Then, once they were satisfied they had gone through Maria's heart, the first madman picked up his yatagan, Lord knows where he had got this, and swiftly he chopped down at Maria's exposed neck, but the blade struck a vertebra and a ghastly-looking wound ensued as he raised the blade again and struck down at the half-severed neck and much gore gushed out! Reddening the earth.

He hit Maria's neck again, again and again. The head was finally severed on the seventh strike as the drunkard learned it takes skill to cut a head off in one strike.

"Die! You Czarist witch!" he finally said as he wiped the blood-soiled blade in a nearby patch of long grass.

***

Robolski borrowed the yatagan, which proved quite handy in the grim task of dismembering the corpses. The sun was already way up in the sky when we at last got through the butchery of dismembering all eleven corpses after stripping them of all clothes. I had an unpleasant surprise when I found that the mine shaft was only one third as deep as Robolski had said. No more than three metres deep! I was sore because I knew I'd have to come back and find a deeper hole, but there was no time now. Someone could come and see us.

We threw all the remains at the bottom of the shallow mine shaft, but then another problem! The shallow water at the bottom of the shallow pit wasn't fully submerging the bodies, where Maria's severed head seemed to look at us with blue eyes filled with sunlight and the hope of a dead fish. I cursed! And yet I felt the deepest affection for this fine young lady who had met such a horrific demise.

After the men tossed the last of the bloody remains into the shaft, I had two full jerricans of sulfuric acid poured over them. Then I ordered the men to throw grenades in an attempt to collapse the ditch over the remains and left Pavel and Nikulin in charge as two more grenades were thrown before the men began shoving earth over the acid-burned remains, until the bodies were covered and hidden, and then they threw branches and small stones on top of it for good measure.

Thankfully, the drunkards had shovels of their own. I was ultimately not overly angry at Robolski, since he had been as good as his word and did help us, although more than half of his men had vanished as soon as they were finished with dumping the dead girls into the ditch. I had also instructed the men to sit down and eat some hard-boiled eggs I had brought there for the planned pause. Robolski made a small campfire and would soon have some hot chai for all to drink.

While they were burying the bodies and having their pause, I took the corsets and other garments of the women and minutely inspected them. I used a sharp Swiss Army knife to open them swiftly. The corsets of Olga, Tatiana and Anastasia contained a great many jewels and gems, and this explained in part why Nastya had survived the bullet she had received in her belly. The gemstones had acted as a protective layer. When I inspected the sailor's outfit taken from the Tsarevitch, then I understood why the little bastard just wouldn't die when I shot him in the chest and Ermakov tried to bayonet him. The clothes were absolutely filled with sewn-in gems and jewels!

I then inspected the Czarina's dress and corset. There was a king ransom's worth of gems and diamonds in there! Same for the pillow the maid had tried to protect herself with.

All in all, I found about 15, nay probably 20 pounds of diamonds and other precious gems and jewels! I put them all in a strong sack I had brought for the task and took my leave without saying goodbye. I used trails and walked to the south through the forest in order not to be beaten up or worse by my own men and the drunkards as the temptation to steal the gems would be too strong. After seeing them give in to lust, I didn't trust them to remain disciplined against a treasure of precious stones. They were still bragging and joking about how good it felt to rape Maria and the others as I quietly left. I would be long gone when they'd realize I was gone.

After a daylong walk under a punishing sun, through winding trails and in thick forest, avoiding the main road, avoiding farms as well, after eating only a handful of boiled eggs that were meant for the Romanovs, and after getting lost and finding my way back three or four times... I finally reached Yekaterinburg. It was already evening and the sky was once again bloodshot with a powerfully orange sun. A flaming orange that already imprisoned my soul in hell. There was no redemption to what I had done.

My stomach was making noises of hunger, but before I supped, I stopped at a brothel, where one lovely gypsy girl worked, or at least she looked like one. Tamara was her name. She was said to be the daughter of a Baron who had been shot the week before in the forest along with General Tatischev. The brothel's owner, some old hag who had been pretty in her own day, had been offering me "the best fuck there is for a noble customer like you".

The old hag pushed the small girl inside the room more than she introduced her. "Here's Tamara! Five rubles now!"

I paid and she slammed the door. "One hour!" the hag yelled through the door.

I dropped the sack containing the Romanovs jewels near the bed and inspected the goods that stood before me, all five feet of her. The hag had told me she was really young and as clean as a whistle. The girl silently stood and looked back at me with her dark brown eyes, her face pretty in the loveliest way between curtains of long raven hair. Something in the way she looked told me she was probably more like nineteen years of age, but she did look like a maiden, although it was plain her virginity was long gone.

She wore a loose white shirt that hinted at a pair of small breasts that had to be as white as her pristine-looking face. This with a dark brown skirt short enough to reveal her lower legs and a pair of bare feet that strongly aroused me. I loved how a red ribbon further brought out the black in her sleek hair. Her skin looked pure and devoid of any vile features. Her hands! Soft and untouched by hard labour. Those were the hands of a maiden who had been used to dancing and reading books.

"Tell me, girl. Are you the daughter of a Baron?"

"I'll be whatever you want me to be, good Sir!" the docile girl told me, her voice troubled while casting her eyes down, in a way that seemed she was on the verge of tears. That's when I understood she indeed used to be a noble-maid and most certainly had been gang-raped by an entire platoon of Bolsheviks before ending up in this shit-hole of a brothel. "They call me the Gypsy girl around here. I can tell your fortune with playing cards if you're not in the mood for s..."

I had grabbed her and shoved her on the bed. "Noble-maid! Noble-maid! Your ass is just what I need! A noble white ass to fuck! Yes to fuck and shake!" I said like a madman as I violently ripped her blouse open and began to suck those small tits like a man who had gone two years without seeing a woman!

"Yes! Yes! A noble ass! Noble girl!" I kept saying as I urgently tucked her dress up to her slim waist and undid my dirty trousers, noticing two blood stains that seemed to look back at me as witnesses of my crime. "Noble girl!" I repeated as I moved myself between her legs and she didn't struggle or resist, clearly used to be treated in this manner.

"Resist! Resist, you tramp!" I said as I slapped her. And then she began to struggle.

"Please, good Sir! No!"

"Unconvincing!" I yelled. "Resist, I say! Resist for real, little cheap tramp!" And I slapped her again.

This time she tried to hit me back and I caught her fists. She had cute little fists, with wrists that felt full of throbbing life where I violently restrained her and I shook her on her pillow, violently so!

"P-please noo! Nooo!" she blurted out as I shook her head up and down where her hair got loose and made a blurry veil. "P-pleeeze stop stop!"

"Aaahhh! That's more like it! Rhaaaaahhh! I'm gonna rape you! Cheap little baroness!"

As I spoke I pinned her wrists on either side of her pillow and covered the lovely little paradise of her tits with a flurry of angry kisses and fierce adoration. Tongue strokes upon tongue strokes! Long and wet strokes until her breasts were coated with my slobber and shimmered under the bedside lamp, her nipples looking up here and there, a powerful wine of a lovely brownish hue for me to drink with my eyes, further intoxicating me on top of her scent. She smelled so good!

She looked back at me, panting, her dark eyes quiet, her face expressing a deeply troubled nature that I suspected was already there even before she was gang-raped by Red soldiers. Gang-rape! The thought stiffened my erection. I loved the troubled light in her dark eyes.

"I want to partake to your rape, Baroness! I want you to tell me how the Soviets raped you while I fuck you!"

Then I pushed against her entrance, my eyes locked into hers. I was now fully on top of her and I used my entire weight, and I entered like butter, for she had put some sort of oil in there beforehand. My body and face close to her, I began to pound her while picturing her being stripped out of an expensive dress by a band of jeering drunkard soldiers, their uniforms wide open and showing a great deal of bare chest, each of them sweating in urgent exertions as he took his turn on top of her.

I began to pound her, raising my head to look into her dark troubled eyes. How pretty she was as I fucked her deep while signing "Dark Eyes" in my mind.

Dark eyes, passionate eyes,
Burning and beautiful eyes!
How I love you, how I fear you,
It seems I met you in an unlucky hour! ...

"Tell me, Tamara, tell me how they raped you before you became the Gypsy girl! I wanna know!" I said, feeling her tightness as I slowed down inside her, truly enjoying the moment as I felt like a mere private inside the daughter of a Baron during the sacking of his château. Raping her right in front of her beaten-up father!

As I furthered my pleasure inside her while kissing her pure white neck, lost in the magic night of her hair, Tamara began to speak. Oh, I loved this!

"They erupted in the cabin I was sharing with Father! This was on the Russ, about two, two months ago, ooh yes! Keep plowing me! It's so good!"

"Stop acting and tell me what happened for, ahh, you're good to fuck! For real!"

"They they dragged me out of my, ahh, my cabin and they raped me on deck! After tearing all my clothes! They were they were so hard when they saw me, naked, and I felt horny! In secret! So troubling! Each of them! Twenty of them! More! All all inside me... Even Father! They they made him fuck me..."

I kept listening as she told me of a fat accordionist who was almost fifty with an impossibly thick beard. So grotesque! But he was kind in a brutal way! She described how he had her while naked and resting on his side while her legs were propped up and her bottom kept striking his large heavy frame as he took her sort of sideways, but with her legs and feet above his side, her heels often striking his large naked frame and she secretly enjoyed this.

"He loved doing this! Men were kissing my feet! One even came on them! So troubling, my good Sir! I,, oooh yes! I loved it in secret! So so troubling! Twenty more men for me, perhaps the whole Red Army for me alone, the troubled girl! Yes keep going! I l-love to be fucked like this!"

I was no longer there. I kept my face buried in her hair, prisoner of her scent, of her charms, of her voice as she told me how General Tatischev bucked her from behind on the deck of the Russ. Her small breasts nearly crushed against me, I felt them through my sweaty shirt as I reached my edge, then I felt her heels touching my bare buttocks where I was fucking her deep and hard and she had her legs nearly wrapped around me. My mind's eyes saw these pretty feet of hers!

And I screamed! Yelled into her neck! "We killed the Romanovs! We killed the men and then we raped the daughters!"

Tamara screamed along with me. I will never know for sure whether she acted it or she climaxed for real. She was already such a well-trained prostitute! With such incredibly lovely feet! Her legs and feet alone convinced me to pay fifteen more rubles, after some fierce negotiations with the hag, so I could spend four more hours with her. She was even a better fuck from behind, or on the table with her legs propped up. I truly tried her out. Sodomized her when I had her from behind on the creaking bed. I loved the feeling of being a soldier raping a baron's daughter, ejaculating inside her while kissing those dainty feet of hers! After a long and hard fuck on a table that creaked loud and threatened to collapse. Small girl, big load! Her moans hugged me every time I erupted.

My damned soul needed this. Such a well-trained, lovely little tramp born to a noble family.

Later that night, around 2 a.m., I was back in the House of Special Purpose, which I found eerily still. Pavel Medvedev, the commander of the outer guards had greeted me with a relieved expression. "Where have you been? The Ural Soviet! They're waiting for your report!" he had said.

I had a hefty supper of bread and borscht brought to me; a double serving as I was positively famished. After eating half of my supper, I got some chai started in the stolen samovar of silver. Then I quickly wrote my report and gave it to Pavel to have it wired to the Ural Soviet Committee at once.

In a nutshell, I wrote that the execution had been carried out as per orders. The bodies were disposed of in a mine shaft that was only three metres deep, and I recommended that we move the remains to a place with a deeper pit. Time had been lost because the men who were supposed to help us were in such an intoxicated state that I dismissed them all after they began groping the female bodies. Ermakov was also drunk, but all in all, the men in the firing squad showed remarkable discipline at this important moment in our revolutionary duty. A total of 18 pounds of diamonds, jewels and other precious gems was retrieved from the women's undergarments.

I kept nearly two pounds of precious stones for myself, with the intention of cashing them very little by very little. After all, my salary was meagre and I would need some extra rubles to see more of the Gypsy girl, for she brought me good fortune. I couldn't get her out of my thoughts! Tamara and her dark troubled gaze.

Dark eyes, passionate eyes,
Burning and beautiful eyes!
How I love you, how I fear you,
It seems I met you in an unlucky hour! ...

After eating the rest of my cooling borscht along with the last half of my bread, I rummaged through some records that my men and I had stolen during the sack of a noble mansion last November. I pushed my empty dishes aside along with my papers, put the stolen gramophone on the table, served myself a glass of vodka and chose a record at random. It was called Danse Macabre, a title written in French in letters I could barely read. I played it.

At last, I could sit back and enjoy a quiet moment, sitting in a comfortable chair, stolen as well. Alone in the eerie house. Enriched by the orchestra that sounded grandiose in a gloomy way that perfectly reflected the title. There is art in murdering people. But we were only butchers. The playing record was like Maria or Olga and their beauty. It belonged to a world I would never be part of. I hated them for this.

I listened to this fascinating music, so refined, always in an eerie way, while drinking cheap vodka. I played the record twice.

[pelayos1408]

Ever fell in love with a historical figure? Me!

[Lucius]

... The rest of the novel goes into sordid details about things such as anal sex, the Countess getting fucked in her three holes at once, and a host of deeply debasing things I care not to mention, such as a fetish about eating a woman's excrement, and other things even more disgusting. After two hours of this sludge, I began re-reading the beginning and the military details about the Crimean war, since this was the part I found most interesting. ...

The dangers inherent in historical writing...

[HistBuff]

I'm really sorry @pelayos1408 , if this last chapter was unpleasant. I myself didn't realize how horrific things were going to get until I began actually writing the chapter. I decided to go this low in order to portray how horrific war can truly get. I'm convinced that some people in real life will do such things, perhaps even worse, during war.

I've likely become a bit desensitized from reading stories in the Extreme section of Ravishu here and there.

Olga was often seen as a "less attractive" sister as opposed to Tatiana and Maria. This is why I portray her as the "most beautiful girl you will ever see in the nude". I think this picture is from 1914 when Olga was 19. She's wearing a duke's ransom worth of jewels while most of the people in Russia were barely eking out a living, and this is why so many Bolsheviks went crazy-mad when they had the chance to take revenge, especially when intoxicated.

The result was the darkest thing I ever wrote. I will need time to recover. I'm not sure I will ever want to go there again.