Major Sidorov makes sure the supplies are moving where they belong. He finds an old mansion where he gets lucky and settles an old score with a young lady.
Major Sidorov’s Thoughts…
Something happened to our British friends after we captured that small valley town in the Urals. They decided they were fine and dandy in this town and wouldn’t leave. What’s more, it was heard that one of their scout officers had stumbled into an ancient mansion from the 18th century, green with ivy in the middle of the forest, about 10 verstes north of the town, and the red-haired Brigadier had moved there along with his highest-ranking officers.
I didn’t hear much afterwards as we advanced onward, and our Division General was happy with the British staying behind and out of the way. Bilguun my orderly kept my boots shiny while I kept my Nagant clean and my shooting skills sharp by practicing fast-draw every morning.
Our advance had now come to a screeching halt by the time the birches began to show bright golden leaves amid the dark pines. It seemed that for every Red battalion we defeated, two more materialized in its place. We weren’t facing an army. We were facing a hydra! Where did they find all these men? And they had modern equipment too. Once, we captured a position among this hilly forest country and found a machine-gun of a new model that we had never seen before! Where did they find the money for this?
It was dawning on me that time was working against us, that the enemy had some support from a hidden, powerful ally; that this war was bigger than just Russia. It was the old monarchies against the novel idea that the people shall govern themselves. The ignorant people who don’t even know what’s good for them!
We also had a supply problem. It seemed that those British boys behind us were keeping a little too much supplies for themselves.
As the brigade major, this was my problem. I was sent back by the Colonel to Belyyfontan, with the mission to see to it that our supplies reached our boys on the front line.
I had an idea of what was going on and arrived at the town with an elite half company of Czech hunters, each of whom an ace rifleman who could hit a silver ruble from 200 yards.
When I arrived at the depot with the half company’s First Lieutenant, we were kindly welcomed by a jovial Major who seemed to have a belly-full of food from our own supplies. This pudding-face bugger had the nerve to complain about the food not being as good as “back home in England”. When I asked to see the Brigadier, he coughed and said that “General McDonough cannot be seen as he’s ill as of now, and until further notice”.
The Major’s kindness was but a facade, and his men and officers were looking at us with a mocking smile. A smile they quickly lost when the Major was shot by a sniper later that day. Shot through his pudding belly, and it was said that he lost as much blood as a dying elephant.
The Brigadier suddenly materialized downtown. He sent men “to hunt down those buggers like foxes”, but his boys had no real knowledge of the terrain, while we did. Me and my hunters, we hid in the woods around the town and the nearby farms. No British soldier dared go out of town. Each tree, each bush could hide a Czech sniper. Only one group of scouts gave us some trouble, and at the end of a skirmish, I shot and captured their officer, who should count himself lucky; I had shot him in the belly and narrowly missed his liver.
He was sent back on a stretcher, on his way to their doctor, who was at the mansion up north in the forest for some reason, and the poor devil died of his festering wound during the night. The doctor arrived only in the morning. Before he died, the scout Captain delivered a message to the Brigadier– We will shoot one of your officers every day that our supplies get stalled.
The red-haired Brigadier went into a fiery white rage! I conveyed him to a meeting at the edge of the woods, as I knew his men would capture me and my escort if I went to see him in town. So we met outdoors, with some of my hunters hidden in bushes. And some of his as well.
The General was red with anger. “I’m going to complain to your higher-ups! You’re gonna be court-martialed and executed!” he bellowed.
“Go right ahead and complain, Sir! All I’m asking is for the supplies to reach the front line as they should. I knew you wouldn’t budge unless there were some heavy consequences for you, Sir, so I obeyed my Colonel and did whatever was necessary to get those supplies moving. I’m the brigade major and I’m just doing my job, Sir! None of this would have happened if you were reasonable.”
His large head of red hair nearly caught fire as the interpreter translated my Czech words to his Scottish face. Then he looked down at the ferns and the grass, knowing there was nothing he could do.
Two days later, the supplies were on their way to our boys holding the front line. But we had to leave the hunters around the town as a deterrent, and these were as many snipers we could no longer deploy against the Bolsheviks. Damned be those British!
Ten verstes to the north, I stumbled into that ancient mansion I had heard about. It was green with ivy and thus impossible to spot unless you were right there. It was also guarded by English soldiers who immediately shot at us on sight! And we vanished into the forest.
Later, I returned to the forest mansion along with First Lieutenant Jakub Černý, who had very black hair and was a likely descendant of some Ottoman soldier who had forced himself upon a Czech girl some centuries ago. As we carefully approached the guarded place, we heard music and rejoicing. Someone was playing the piano; we could hear the low notes, then the mid-range notes, and finally the highest ones as we made our approach until we reached the edge of the forest.
It was late dusk. The clouds were dark with a debauchery of crimsons out in the west, as if these grand clouds were ruddy angels watching over the soirée given by the British officers. I took a look through my binoculars. I could plainly see inside as the old granite mansion was well lighted within. Officers in their best uniform were dancing with… young ladies?!
“I’ll be damned!” Jakub Černý ejaculated as he looked through his own binoculars.
“Hey! Who’s there!” called one of the sentries, who had heard the First Lieutenant. So we made a quick retreat, but we had seen enough to add two and two together.
Once we were safe on a forest trail, we had a quick, but important conversation.
“Did you see this, Lieutenant? Their General was there!”
“Yes, Sir. His big head of red hair is unmistakable, and he was dancing with a nun! A nun without her wimple who looks like a golden-haired angel! That’s the one I’ll take when we’ll storm the place to-morrow evening!”
“To-night, you mean!”
“To-night?! But, Sir! The men are tired and…”
“They won’t be tired at all when they’ll hear about the booty they’re gonna get, Lieutenant, and this General needs to be taught a lesson, because he’s clearly still keeping some luxuries for him and a select club of officers. And the sentry must have reported having heard someone. No, if we want to catch them by surprise, we need to return strong later that night, because tomorrow they’ll probably double the guard after that sentry heard someone. By the time we gather the men and return to the place, they’ll probably be asleep or having a late-night supper; they won’t be expecting us. And the moon is bright to-night; even the moon wants us to succeed!”
“All right, Sir, let’s go and gather the men!”
“Another thing, Lieutenant. I overheard a conversation among your men. They’re on the verge of mutiny.”
“Mutiny?! I don’t believe it! How?”
“It’s about communism. I think most of them want to change sides and become Bolsheviks. From what I heard, they’re now against aristocracy and want power to the people. I’m afraid that those ideas are gaining traction throughout the entire Division, especially since our advance has grounded to a halt. As you know, they now have planes dropping leaflets of propaganda printed in Czech.”
“Let me speak to them, Major! I know them and…”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for this. They’re probably planning to kill us both, but sacking this mansion and raping the women will buy us time, and to-morrow we can flee, or rather join them.”
“Join them? Are you mad, Major?”
“Think about it, Lieutenant. If we flee, whereto? Downtown, the British troops will capture and execute us. Rejoining our brigade? What if the entire brigade mutinies? They’re going to, I feel it. Going back east to Yekaterinburg? We’ll be shot as deserters. No, we have no choice but join our men in defection to the Red Army.”
“Never! You’re a traitor!”
As he spoke, the young officer rose his rifle toward me, but I was upon him. It was a silent fight where my taller, larger frame, added to my long experience of trench warfare, prevailed. I ended up sadly strangling this poor young soul. Such a pity to kill such a fine marksman, but it had to be done, alas! He was too young and too idealist to understand life. I felt it in my bones that the wind was turning, and if I wanted to ever see my wife again, I had to be on the winning side of this war.
I felt so ashamed to become such a turncoat! Why not die with honour? But I preferred to live. Especially when there were young ladies nearby to forcibly fuck. Rape! We were going to surprise attack this mansion, overpower the men and then rape their women. Just the thought of it made me as hard as a breeding bull!
Leaving the fresh corpse for to-morrow’s crows, I made my way to our bivouac. If my plan worked, I’d be back in the Bolshevik ranks and thus able to soon go see my wife, and perhaps get a transfer to an office job near her. Everything important I did seemed to have a woman at the bottom of it. I could even kill just to kiss Sümeyye again!
“Where’s Jakub?” the First Sergeant inquired when I got to our well-hidden bivouac. First Sergeant Novák was one of the men whom I had overheard speaking openly about defecting to the Bolsheviks. I still felt it was better to be cautious.
“He’s stayed up there, watching the mansion,” I replied.
“The mansion? What mansion?”
I then told him about the antique mansion where the British Brigadier and his select club of fancy officers were having a soirée with well-dressed young women.
“Is this a joke? How on earth could there be women up there?” he asked. I could see the lust in his eyes. He wanted to believe it was true. He at least was willing to go up there and see for himself.
“Gather the men, Sergeant! To-night we’re having a fiesta!”
“Aye aye, Sir!”
***
The hunters were so eager to see if my story was true that they didn’t become alarmed when there was no sign of their officer. We stealthily encircled the mansion, with military efficiency augmented by the prospect of a high reward. Using my binoculars, I estimated there was about four or five sentries, smoking cigarettes where the burning tip clearly showed us their positions. Our stealthiest men moved up on them and silently cut their throats.
When the Corporal leading them imitated the call of an owl, we rushed at the mansion, all fifty of us! The women screamed when we stormed the place. The British officers looked at us as if we were ghosts, their features lit up with clear annoyance upon being interrupted near the end of their ball, when their pleasure with the ladies was close at hand. Fine dishes had been laid out on a large table for a supper that we just invited ourselves to. Only the Brigadier kept his composure.
“What is the meaning of this?” the indignant General asked, his head looking as if it was about to burst in rage, like a red-haired bomb. “What is the meaning of this? I have friends in the Horse Guards!” he bellowed in an English I half understood.
“Peace, Land, and Bread!” I yelled in Russian as I shot the Brigadier through the heart with my Nagant. The women filled the ball-room with shrieks! The English officers stood in stupor like statues, some of them recognizing the Bolshevik rally cry I just used, for it was well known. First Sergeant Novák and his men had clearly heard it. They had heard it many times from enemy soldiers. I had to think fast and be quick if I didn’t want to be massacred by my own soldiers.
“Peace, Land, and Bread!” I repeated aloud, then shot a Colonel who was raising his pistol at me. “Peace, Land, and Bread! Kill the men and rape the women!” I ordered at the top of my voice, this time in Czech. “Power to the people! Kill those buggers and rape their women!”
The eight or ten officers and their orderlies didn’t have a chance. After a quick fight, each of them lay dead in a pool of blood and the Czech hunters had either grabbed women or were chasing the ones who had run and tried to hide.
“Bring the women here!” I commanded. “Bring them all here!”
Four women were already in our grasp. I spotted the nun with the loose golden hair. She was cursing at us in Polish. The other three were certainly noblewomen who had spent the last months hiding in this place that the British had stumbled into. What astonished me the most was that the British officers had behaved like gentlemen, judging from the women’s immaculate ball-gowns and healthy demeanor. Sure enough, one of the noblewomen saw a dead Major and rushed at his body and cried a river on her departed lover.
“Get your hands off me! Lemme go, you peasants! Peasants!” one dark-haired lady barked as she was being carried in the ball-room by a heavy-set soldier who was laughing as he pushed her toward the others. She was a strikingly beautiful girl with long dark hair, her fancy ball gown speaking of a small waist and a sensual body underneath it. (image 2)
“She’s my take!” the heavy-set soldier bellowed as he forced-kissed her and I felt both annoyed and aroused upon seeing this encounter between the unwashed brute and this sensual young lady of fancy deportment, now trying to protest as the brute groped her ass and brute-kissed her senseless while other men restrained her wrists and groped her, especially feeling her breasts through her corset. I felt a bit annoyed upon seeing I would have to wait long if I wanted to fertilize her. She was already surrounded by a dozen riflemen!
Two more girls were being carried off from their hiding places and into the ball-room where the stench of blood from the dead officers got mixed with the girls’ perfume and the caustic smoke from the gunshots that had been fired during the short-lived fight.
These two maidens looked like vestals whose shoes harbored the most gracious feet a man could fancy. One was a nun with loose dark hair. The other brunette tried to run with her feet comically stirring the air as the petite girl was being carried by jeering Czechs, her eyes exploding round as she realized she was about to be gang-raped.
“Peace, Land, and Bread! Let’s take our prize!” I bellowed in Russian before repeating my words in Czech.
First Sergeant Novák nodded at me and smiled under his pitch-black mustache, and the fiesta began. Shrill protests erupted as the men began undressing the young ladies, enlarging their décolletés to bring peace, land and bread for themselves and their pleasure!
The blonde nun kept cursing in Polish as grinning men jeered at her in Czech, calling her “a lovely little Polish whore” as they brutally tore her holy white gown and soon allowed her chaste breasts to breathe some air by cutting her top using a knife and yanking a black onyx crucifix off her bosom, all this amid their jeering and her shrill protests. The sight of her delicate nipples and milk-pale areolas turned me into a monster! I rushed at her!
“Hold her still! Let her have her first Bolshevik cock!” I said strategically. The men laughed, held her right there where she stood and I fought with her writhing legs until I gained the upper hand and pushed her gown all the way up against her hips, where I caught glimpses of her pussy hair amid her shrill panic screams. “She’s golden everywhere, boys! She wants our cocks! Look how her eyes are shining! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
“Let’s give her the honour of the Red Army, Major!” said a young hunter as he helped the other restraining the fiercely resisting nun.
“She’s a fighter! I love this!” said another.
“We gonna give her our sperm!” said a third man, this one much older with eyes lit up by lust for the young nun.
“Niie! Niie! N-Niie!!!” she screamed as she tried to keep her legs glued together. Such white thighs that were consecrated to God and made my cock painfully hard. I loved how she tried to fight us off, only delaying the inevitable and increasing my anticipation. Raping her was going to be so much fun!
Around me, it was an absolute pandemonium, watched by the ghosts of these British officers lying dead with fish eyes that were missing the show, or perhaps not. I was shocked at how fast the Czechs were undressing the ladies, their eyes drunk with the knowledge that these were aristocratic girls whose white skin spoke of days inside rich castles and palaces.
The raven-haired beauty was fighting like a tiger! She spat in the face of that heavy-set soldier whenever she broke a little free, but her eyes were mad with shame from being groped under her dress, and then she got slapped hard and the heavy-set soldier tore her dress-top open, then pressed the sides of her corset and she shrieked in pain as the busks broke free and her beige corset got wide open in front, offering the pale nougat of her under-gown against the sharp raspberry red of her torn dress, and as the soldier ripped her final undergarment with hungry hands, she cursed and spat in his face again as the maddening sight of her tits came into view! This was so erotic!
She broke down in tears while the heavy-set soldier cupped her breasts with whistling catcalls from the men and a loud grunt of victory.
“No!No please! Don’t! DON’T! NNOOOOOOOOOO!” the crying beauty begged as the heavy-set soldier gleefully sucked her freed breasts! Even more erotic! For she spoke flawless Russian from St. Petersburg while her breasts were being sucked by an unwashed Czech peasant! She had run and hidden, but the war had finally caught up with her, and she was now going to be gang-fucked like she deserved. Soldiers restraining her were now stroking her jet-black hair, like she deserved. It was justice! The aristocrats had it coming! The peasants fighting to preserve the old world were fools!
The two youngsters had been urgently stripped out of their neat dresses by the horde. The ball-room lights did sensual justice to their nakedness and their white-cream complexion, and their peachy bottom. One kept calling her absent mother while a soldier was eating her virgin muff as the men forced her down on the wooden floor where they spread her legs and held her wrists where the wailing maiden formed pretty little fists of raging despair. The other maiden wasn’t faring better. This one was also a brunette with long shimmering hair, a very small girl whose naked splendour got all men’s attention as her captors held her on all fours and First Sergeant Novák was already kneeling behind her, trousers down, his cock standing ready to take this prize from heaven. (image 3)
“Peace, Land, and Bread!” the First Sergeant hollered in Russian as he pushed himself against the flower of her sanctum and the poor girl screamed with all she had left. While the rest of the women were now naked and either screaming in the men’s arms or lying there in shocked silence as they were being used as fuck dolls. At sunset, they were dancing a waltz with gentlemen officers, wearing a fancy dress with a stylish décolleté. Now they were naked war booty and their gentlemen were dead.
Turning my attention to my fighting Polish nun who kept swearing, I forced-kissed her, finding her face sweet as she suddenly went quiet, trying to protect her face from my assaults as my lips rubbed hers, and her nose wrote silent letters of protest on my face as she kept her eyes down, and I smelled her perfume as she kept her legs glued together while the men kept tearing at her God-white gown, soon removing it all and making her a naked nun. I was pleased to notice that her shoes were gone and she was barefoot. (image 1)
Unable to break the seal of her legs even after slapping her several times, I gave a sharp order and a nearby table was cleared of supper dishes, and moments later, the naked nun was bent over it and pitifully wailing as we caught hold of her wrists and forced her to remain there as I feverishly unbuttoned my White Army trousers to give her my traitor’s cock.
I fingered her pussy, listening to her wails and her Polish curses as I made sure she was wet, and then I speared myself inside her and listened to her shrill screams as I grabbed her waist and became her love prisoner and began to pound her, enjoying the sight and feel of her buttocks as I collided in urgent repetitions against their vast smoothness, doing so with immense elation, the golden rush of her hair offering a grand sight as the young nun was raped. By me.
“Peace, Land, and Bread!” I yelled again and again. “Peace, Land, and Bread!” as I took my pleasure and ran my hands around the contours of her butt, such pleasing curves that kept me as hard as a Turkish soldier raping a girl inside a city after long months of siege.
My legs went wobbly under me as I blissfully passed my edge.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”
I was freely sweating as I left her filled with my sperm, giving a gentle tap of appreciation on her fabulous buttocks as I left my spot for the next man.
“Peace, Land, and Bread!” the Corporal screamed as he penetrated the Polish nun, who had stopped swearing and now offered a litany of whimpers as her cheek was forced to keep sliding on the tabletop, next to a small pond of milk and a capsized glass of red wine. She took the punishment with her eyes half-closed, almost like a quiet child as she whimpered on under the barrage of thrusts from the man, who soon died inside her with a beastly flourish.
A third man came and gave her a brutal pounding that soon ended with his scream of glee as he dumped his load. Then a fourth man gave her more of the same fun.
***
The raven-haired lady was now naked amid sweating soldiers who held her off the floor while the heavy-set soldier was taking his pleasure inside her. I loved how they were raping her. Exactly like the Lithuanians had gang-raped Countess Hendrikoff on the deck of the Russ that fateful night of May. Russia seemed full of beautiful aristocrats in hiding, waiting to be found, and raped like they secretly wished for.
“Peace, Land, and Bread! AAAYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRHH NOT TRUE!!!” the heavy-set soldier screamed at the top of his breath as he powerfully ejaculated inside this beauty of an aristocrat, sounding like a dying man as he smiled with his foul teeth. The sight was unbelievable!
The erotic softness of her breasts contrasted with the men’s callused hands where they held her and contemplated the whiteness of her skin as the second man out of many took his delight inside her. I came closer and saw that she had a wide black carpet between her legs; fine pubic hair of silk that matched her dark eyes where she kept screaming at the ceiling as she was raped on. What a beautiful sight!
Feeling life already coming back down there, I was assaulted with lust, madness! Madness to rape! To celebrate my evil return in the Red Army, by raping aristocrats. I wanted to rape this raven-haired beauty, but there were so many Czechs pressing themselves around her that the waiting was going to be long.
I saw the youngsters. One was silent, her eyes looking up like the empty eyes of a doll as men took their turns in breaking her.
The other brunette remained on her knees and elbows as one man, after several of his comrades, finished his round of forced sex by pressing himself upon her and making sure the small girl received his sperm deep inside her womb to make a Bolshevik baby. This was a mutiny and I was leading it! I didn’t ponder about what to do tomorrow. As soon as the man was done with her, First Sergeant Novák poured some vodka on her butt and nodded at me as the small girl fell into a fetal position, crying her heart out as she made the most young erotic sight. If only we could paint her picture!
So small she was, with a body that nature had designed to take loads of sperm and make babies. The young secret of life lay at my feet as I plunged upon her and began kissing her bare feet as she begged me to please spare her virginity, accusing me of not being a gentleman, saying I was evil and a brigand, while I cleaned the dirt off her toes using my tongue, firmly holding her tiny ankles, before turning mad as I kissed the holy tenderness of her soles and forced a yapping laughter out of her as I kissed a tickling spot, and then she resumed crying.
“A brigand wearing an officer’s uniform!” I corrected her while kissing and caressing the priceless charms of her small feet. She looked like a virgin maiden you’d see fetching water at a spring. The most graceful nakedness a man could see, and oh! So soft to the touch! I was now wicked hard upon thinking how tight she must be! I remembered spotting her through my binoculars, at sunset, when she was fully dressed in white and dancing with a middle-aged officer in this soirée stolen from the war, when she wore a long necklace of pearls over an all-white dress that covered her bosom, unlike the others who wore a décolleté, as if wanting to show she was too young to show her cleavage. I also remembered the matching white socks she then wore with black shoes. I regretted not having partaken to her forced stripping! I would have loved to pull those white socks and set her feet free! “A lovely little tramp!” I said, while keeping her lower legs and feet under my urgent assaults.
At one point, I rubbed her feet against my cock and felt a burst of madness as I lost some preliminary fluids.
She struggled a little as I toured her little body. She looked so very young, about fourteen or fifteen springs! Too young to be raped, and this was perhaps exactly why I was so wicked hard! I licked her buttocks, then I sucked her small breasts with nipples that were brown and loaded with her brunette’s spirit. I had no doubt that the British officers had convinced her to give them her virginity, be it by force or gentle persuasion, but her tits felt like a virgin’s and tasted like heaven!
I finally penetrated her, lying on my side, in line with the softness of her butt, while she quietly sobbed, I raped her like this. I measured my strokes, immensely enjoying the tight heat inside her and the sound of her voice as she whimpered and sobbed. I tried my best to slow down the pace and last longer, but the orgasm was upon me and I was taken with spasms as my cock exploded inside her!
“She’s a good fuck, isn’t she, Major!” First Sergeant Novák said, before helping me back on my feet and raping her the same way, on his naked side as he took his pleasure for the second and longest time.
***
The fun lasted the whole night through. There were seven young ladies and about eight men for each, so they tasted a lot of Bolshevik cocks.
“Peace, Land, and Bread! And I aaahhh love the white buns of her butt-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA YEAHHH!” uttered a loud Czech rifleman as he spewed a biblical load deep inside the heart-shaped ass of a blonde, one of the elegant ladies whom I had yet to meet.
She was kissing the supper table, where soldiers had taken cold cuts and delicacies that had been meant for the now-slain gentlemen and their lovely ladies, now being raped on an empty stomach, but with a belly-full of Czech semen to properly honour their beauty. Another man advanced and took hold of her offered butt and proceeded to set her record straight using his cock; this one chose her pussy and ordered her to thank him for not raping her ass, but the sobbing lady didn’t understand his grunting language.
I came close and caressed her long hair, which had a stylish braid and was loose elsewhere. I taunted her in Russian…
“Don’t be sad, Milady. The peasants find you beautiful and simply want to honour you.”
“Go to hell!” she uttered between clenched teeth, her beautiful face going to and fro on the tabletop along with the pounding she was taking. I noticed she still had her ankle-long shoes on, and I went under the table, where I proceeded to unlace those pretty shoes of leather encasing her feet, using the opportunity to get the silky feel of her lower legs. She left me with an air of déjà-vu. I had a feeling I had seen her somewhere, but I didn’t look enough at her face.
The man above me groaned and filled her up, then there was a round of laughter and I received a drop of liquor as they poured vodka on her butt while I was down there, freeing her aristocratic feet from the social burden of her shoes, and freed her legs from the conventions of her silk socks. I became as hard as the wooden table as I saw the first of her feet. She had legs and feet to die for! I laid down under the table and became like a mad dog as I covered her dainty feet with slobber and kisses upon kisses, while the men commented on how pale and vast her buttocks were, laughing at her sobs as they fucked her on.
After a long while, after another man had taken his pleasure inside her while I adored her feet, I became curious as to where I could have seen this blonde lady. I emerged out of the table and took a good look at her face. Yes, her features made me think of someone I had seen a few years ago. Since nobody was using her, I turned her around and came face to face with the naked aristocrat and the ruined splendour of her breasts! She had a blonde angel’s pair of tits with pale nipples, tits smooth and pure white, gracefully beautiful! Just gently pushed out with a nuance of pale rose in her nipples!
“Milady, you have wonderful tits!” I said as I kissed them and felt how their softness yielded against my nose. I conquered them with pressing hands while she told me to go to hell and tried to spit in my face, but I was out of reach and tried to make time stop as I enjoyed this fleeting moment when her nipples gently pushed inside the palms of my hands. Looking down the violoncello curves of her body, I learned that her carpet was just as golden as her hair and felt ready to outrage her dignity. So I dropped my dirty trousers and pushed myself inside her!
“Bastard!” she said in her flawless Russian from St. Petersburg as I began raping her, propping her legs up and taking advantage of her submissive exhaustion to use her in this favourite position, where her bare feet hoovered near my face where I admired the sensual beauty of her legs while feeling the firm grip of her vagina. I pushed deeper and felt the all-conquering sensation to be inside one of their women! Perhaps she was a Countess.
1914! St. Petersburg! A large parade under a blue sky on a warm day of August. Yes, it was her! The daughter of a Prince I had forgotten the name of. She was there, looking at us peasants with nothing but scorn in her eyes. “Look at them! Peasants! They stink!” she had said just as I was marching within earshot, along with my platoon. (image 4)
As I raped her on that table, her sensual feet near my face and her legs bent in a debauchery of noble skin, my mind’s eye saw her again as she stood among a group of dignitaries, just as she was on that hot day of August, fully dressed in aquamarine, a dress that probably matched the colour of her eyes, with a décolleté that let us see just enough cleavage to be as tantalizing as humanly possible, clad as she was in her certainty that the likes of us would never see the pale hue of her nipples, and holding a matching umbrella that protected her delicate features from the sun, while the day-bright dream of her hair played sensual notes in our desire-filled souls.
And now! Now this young milady had been stripped naked by the soldiers and I was raping her while kissing her bare feet!
I accelerated and caused her to whimper with her arms flailing about on the table as I vented out the frustration I had felt that day upon seeing this noble lady I could never hope to touch as a humble platoon Sergeant. But now, now I was a Major for the Red Army! And she had been caught! The golden carpet of her pussy was ours! Her pale nipples were there for us all to see, with all her cleavage wide open like a book of flesh where her breasts kept jiggling in their submissive silence, in rhythm with my furious strokes as I violently passed my edge and screamed my satisfaction! Like a banshee!
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”
I ejaculated inside this daughter of a Prince! Filling her with my rank-and-file sperm, and it felt so God-damned good! She was crying. Good for her! She could use more humility. Now she was the one who stank. She stank of our sperm.
Satisfied with my feat of arms, I went down on her and kissed her legs, then began licking the golden bush between her legs, avoiding her sperm-filled entrance while she begged me to please stop, without resisting however.
“How do you like this, noble lady?” said Sergeant Novák as he pulled her hair and forced her to look at him. “How do you like being raped by the men you despised?”
She didn’t understand Czech, so I translated his words while I cupped her breasts, stooped down upon her bosom where I ravished her naked tits while remembering the tantalizing décolleté of aquamarine elegance that she wore on that day four years ago. I could have kneaded and sucked those pale breasts all night long, but there was a small circle of cigarette-smoking and vodka-drinking Czech hunters around me and I gave them the opportunity to give her more honour and embrace from the Czech Legion; from a unit who had mutinied in the nick of time.
The Czech hunters had enough taste to worship her feet just as much as her breasts and her heart-shaped ass.
After she had received more sperm, we took turns in sucking her tits while rubbing them with first-rate vodka that the English officers had been keeping for themselves. She was in tears, making her aquamarine eyes even more beautiful, and I kissed her eyes and said “I love you, Milady!” before forcing her to drink vodka while we made her stand and the heavy-set soldier began to kiss her butt with his peasant’s mug giving these buns a sensual imprint.
Then we nudged her down on her knees, telling her to please don’t cry, that she was beautiful and belonged to aristocracy, a class of ladies we desperately wanted to fuck, that Milady was very beautiful and we wanted to mark our territory on her. I translated everything for her in Russian so she could taste our words as well as feel our half flaccid cocks as we slapped her face with them.
It was so satisfying to slap her pretty face with our cocks!
The gentle play of her breasts gave rise to our spent cocks, and soon enough, we were masturbating like grunting macaques around her. One soldier forced himself inside her mouth and pinched her jaw so she couldn’t really bite, telling her “to taste the peasantry deep inside her pretty little mouth” and I translated his words into flawless Russian from St. Petersburg, adding insult to injury as I masturbated along with the others, looking at the gentle jiggle of her blonde’s tits while her mouth was full with peasantry.
“She looks even more aristocratic with that thing in her mouth! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
“Czech sperm, country churned! The cure for her snobbish ways! Aaahh yeah! What a pretty face she has to take cocks!”
“Aaaah yeahhh! Her mouth’s good to fuck!”
“All of her! We take all of her! Wou-hoou!”
“Hrr hrr hrr hrrrr hrrrr… Gonna drop a big one on her!”
The man raping her mouth pulled out of her, just as bolts of semen surged left and right and landed on her lovely face, adorning her aristocratic features with a pungent tribute as she was encircled by grunting and groaning men, as we ejaculated on the stripped-naked princess, who was pulled by the hair and kept kneeling on the aquamarine vestiges of her ball gown as I gave her breasts the load of semen they truly deserved.
“UUUGHHH! SHE GOT IT!”
“AAAAGGGHH…”
“HHUUHHH! Here you are Milady!”
“Sperm from the soldierszz HHHHHHHHHHHHNNDDJJGGHHHHH…”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ‘ve seen you in St. Petersburghhhh!” I uttered as I watched my victorious bolts of semen land on her immaculate breasts, as she recoiled in disgust, her sperm-coated face indignant, one man holding her hair as she arched her back and thus increased my pleasure by giving me her pushed-out breasts! Oh God! This was so much fun! To be on the sweet side of a revolution…
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