Any resemblance to real-life persons or personalities is purely coincidental. Back in 1918, a Corporal was the typical squad leader.
After escaping unseen, both Brigadier’s orderlies had erred in the eerie forest trails all night, getting lost in a maze of trails in their attempt to reach Belyyfontan under the moonlight. The path south was far from easy. In their panic, the orderlies had lost their sense of direction. At one point, they even found they had run a circle and realized they had gone back near the dreaded mansion, where several Czech soldiers were outside taking a piss. They had almost got spotted! They could even hear the whimpers and the lamentations from the women inside.
They went back into the woods and followed the first trail, then they waited for the eastern sky to turn gray, and only then, they walked and ran south when visibility was better, although very gray with lots of bushes gently whipping their face. They went on, heart racing, panting, moving on with the nightmare of knowing that the Brigadier was dead. This should not have been allowed to happen!
They finally reached a road checkpoint after three hours of walking and stumbling in bushes. Tired and terrified of the massacre they had narrowly escaped, both companions had forgotten to put back on their helmets, which caused the Corporal in charge of the checkpoint to smile a mile wide!
Esther realized her mistake, but it was too late. She and her sister Violet were alone with no less than eight men, who now knew who they were.
“S-Sergeant! The Brigadier’s dead! The mansion has been overrun by, by the enemy and…” Esther shouted, her mind too flustered to notice that the tall brute only wore two chevrons. He had a ruddy stupid-looking face, unshaved, that clearly indicated that he had no chances of ever making it to three chevrons. God would not allow such a trinity to happen.
“Whooo-hooo! Pretty little lass we have here! Christmas in October wrapped up in khaki!” the Corporal roared, his smile even widening as his piercing gaze looked for Esther’s petite figure through her Private’s uniform. And spotted her girly charms without fail.
“The Brigadier’s dead?” said a smart-looking Lance Corporal. “Now that’s some jolly good news! The old bastard had my brother flogged the other day.”
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” said a soldier as he ran after both fleeing girls, along with several more men.
Esther and Violet didn’t get far. It was short work for the British soldiers to overtake the exhausted girls, who both screamed in terror as they were grabbed in a field.
“So they’re not boys! I knew it!” Corporal John Baxter bellowed as he took Esther’s helmet from her hand while enjoying a whiff of her dark hair. “Smells good too! So the old sack-of-pudding bastard was keeping a nice little harem for himself! while we were running those forest hills without seeing a girl for weeks! Bless God the old bugger’s dead! He better be dead! May he rest in his bloody pudding!”
“All right, young lady! Let’s see what you’re hiding under this pretty little uniform!” a soldier added.
“No, please… My uncle’s dead… Please…” Esther begged as she felt hands upon her while the gross leader pressed his face and lips against hers, and her heart went racing in full-blown panic as she felt the swarm of soldierly hands upon her buttocks, her breasts, through her uniform that she realized was soon going to be ripped off, while the leader gave her a passionate kiss! A dog began barking and howling somewhere not far, while the autumn breeze sang as it caressed the tall majestic pines along with birches and their golden leaves.
Violet her younger sister remained silent as three or four men began undressing her out of her field uniform, restraining her as she silently sobbed, stricken by sordid curiosity about what it would feel like to have a man inside her. She was still a virgin. Esther was the elder sister and it was her that their uncle Chester would use whenever he felt like having full penetration. Now Chester was dead; they had heard the gunshots within the house and they were sure of it. They had narrowly escaped the overrun mansion… only to fall prey to men from their own side!
She felt the fresh morning breeze hit her suddenly bare breasts and heard the men’s satisfied grunts after they crudely opened her unbuttoned field shirt; she felt their gazes on them, where the autumn breeze caused her nipples to stand. Their uncle and master forbade them to wear anything under their uniform, except when they were at that time of their month. Violet heard her elder sister’s pitiful cries of begging and heard her claiming she was a virgin.
As she heard her elder sister break down while men stripped her, Violet felt it was pointless to resist. She closed her eyes and received a kiss from a roughly shaved soldier while a pair of callused hands cupped her breasts under the morning sky, where the crisp breeze gently caressed the nearby trees, giants of majesty dominating the scene where the King’s men unduly heated Violet’s pretty face with bad breath that reeked of gin and tobacco while they whispered how hard and stiff she made them.
A farm was nearby, where the father knew better than go near such a scene. He hurriedly told his two daughters and his wife to go down into the cellar and stay there. But his son was already outside and carefully staying hidden as he got closer. The farm boy was just a thin lad and this was his first time seeing the breasts of a girl other than one of his sisters.
“Please, don’t! Don’t! I’m virgin!” Esther pleaded as the men took turns in sucking her perky tits between the khaki curtains of her wide-open shirt. They loved the erotic view and their erections pushed their trousers as they tasted how smooth her skin was, making her flushed face ruddy with shame as they gleefully did so.
“You’re a bloody filthy liar, little lass and you know it as sure as the Big Ben’s in London!” Corporal Baxter said and laughed. “The Brigadier was fucking her day and night!”
“A lovely little lying tramp!” said the man holding her left wrist.
“I’m sure the Brigadier’s kept her warm for us!”
“Wow! Two brunettes for the price of one! What have we done right to get this?”
“It’s raining cherry pies this morning!”
“Oh blimey does she taste good! I haven’t had such a young pair of titties in a long spell!”
“Now boys! Get her down on her hands and knees and we do her by order of rank!” the Corporal thundered as he freed his mad cock. “The artillery is out! It’s so big it must have friends in the Horse Guards! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
“By heavens we’re gonna fuck this one pretty darn good! ’till Judgement Day!”
“No please! I’m virgin!”
“Stop lying, tramp!”
From where she lay down on her back, Violet heard Esther’s protests, pressed as she was under the weight of a man whose mouth just engulfed one of her small breasts and he gave her the leisure to fully appreciate the difference between her uncle Chester doing this and a young man eager to rape her. She felt more confused than anything as a voice inside her said it was about time she got fucked and learned what it feels like. “But not like this! Not like this!” she heard herself shriek as she strained her arms where someone was restraining her wrists.
“No! Not like this!” she cried again, trying in vain to wrestle her wrists free while shaking her head, and she felt the awful hands pull her trousers off her hips, then off her legs and past her feet, where she realized they had taken off her field boots and were now pulling her wool socks off her sweaty feet. It felt weirdly good to feel the crisp breeze on her bare feet along with a man’s hand; he was so bizarrely gentle! She could tell he loved touching her feet.
Feeling the air directly against her feet, and feeling a man’s kisses on them for the very first time caused a surge of forced arousal within Violet, and the man fingering her found her wet.
“Goodness gracious!” he ejaculated. “The little mermaid is asking for it! She’s as wet as a soggy fish’n’chips!”
“The little tramp! Look at her vestal’s carpet! All black!”
“A little panther! How old are you, little tramp?”
“All right, I’m the first man to fuck!” said the Lance Corporal, his cock indeed like a spear as the tit-sucker Private made way for him and the Lance Corporal knelt down between Violet’s legs, his trousers down while she kept vainly struggling where uniformed satyrs held her four limbs spread-eagled like the Roman number X of her ill fortune.
After immense glee where he first enjoyed the fight to violate her tight entrance while she squirmed and wailed under him, after hearing Violet’s fresh cry when he forced her cunt open and began raping her, after hammering her all his content and getting whiffs of her distressed hair where she shook her bobbing head while he enjoyed the pretty sight of her crying face, and after propping himself up on his arms where he could see the jiggling of her maiden tits, the Lance Corporal felt God’s delight throughout his own body and lost frothing slobber that fell upon her as he experienced a monster ejaculation!
And he uttered one beast of a loud “aaAAAAAAAAAYESS!”
As he got up to his feet, Lance Corporal John Armstrong witnessed the final flourish of his leader, where the kneeling Corporal held Esther’s hips while feverishly pressing himself against the lovely vastness of Esther’s buttocks, where she was being restrained on all fours by jeering men, topless with her trousers down, as she received the offering from the Corporal, his stupid face holding the shock in his eyes, under the rim of his steel helmet, as he sounded like a dying man and lost even more frothing slobber out of his groaning mouth than he lost sperm inside her. And yet it was a big load of pudding he gave Esther.
“Aaahh! I knew they weren’t boys! I knew it!” Corporal Baxter bellowed as he emerged out of his bliss, finding this encounter wonderful and forgetting everything else. Russia was a dangerous place for forgetful soldiers. The white sun seemed to smile at him as he stood tall, smiling from his victory. The farm dog kept barking. The hidden farm boy lost nothing of the action.
The six or seven Privates took their turns as the horror went and lingered on.
Esther remained on her hands and knees, later on her elbows and knees, where her buttocks took and seemed to absorb the repeated buffeting strokes from the men, her girly curves rippling and shocked by their feral assaults. Esther was given the opportunity to shriek in wild pain when two succeeding soldiers plucked the flower of her anal virginity, as the Brigadier was not fond of such brown sports. Her butt curves made sure the men offered her cocks that were stiff to her satisfactory benefit. Nobody in this squad would ever forget Esther’s butt!
Violet was kept flat on her back, staring absently at the passing clouds as they hammered her again, again and again, where her quickly reacting pussy had flooded itself with juices and with contractions that gave her the grim surprise of pleasing sensations while shortening the men’s grunting stay inside her. She felt horrified and confused, more confused than anything upon learning too much at once. She even wrapped her legs around her customer when instructed to do so, and was rewarded by being called “the regiment’s lovely fish’n’chips soggy little strumpet” while the man erupted inside her with an enormous load of pungent love. And he said that next time, she would be getting it on her face, and then proceeded to lick her face like a mad happy dog. While the dog kept barking, chained at the nearby farm house.
The farm boy was mad stiff as he looked on. That girl was poignantly pretty under the men. He especially loved it, and precummed in his farm pants, when she wrapped her legs around a soldier and crossed ankles! She had feet to die for! He felt like running right at her and ejaculating on these lovely little feet!
One by one, the common soldiers detonated inside both maidens who had been raised and educated in a bourgeois family, before their uncle Chester smuggled them into Russia as his orderlies, without even telling his own sister. The red-haired Brigadier had been governed by his own lust and was rewarded by a quick death.
For some weird reason, Violet kept thinking of her Latin declensions while her virginity was being destroyed. Rosa, rosa, rosam, rosae, rosae, rosa… “Rosae! Rosas!” she would hear herself ejaculate amid her quiet whimpers, whenever her pussy generated a stronger sensation that got her both in hell and heaven.
“Templum! Templa-aaaaaaaahhh!” the sweating girl would utter at times, under the persistent hammering of a Private all too happy to profane her templum again. This girl was worth the trouble of raping her twice.
Half of those men had partaken to the gang-rape of Soviet prisoners. The act of raping their Brigadier’s special girls felt a lot more satisfying, on a very personal level. During weeks of campaigning in the Urals where they were all sex-starved, the old bastard had harbored something sweet under his own tent! And these girls had the white skin and gentle features of fashionable London maidens! How did the Brigadier manage to keep them secret for so long? How blind had they been? But the fear of superior officers had been ingrained in their skulls from day one of their recruit’s training. This must be why their ejaculations were so liberating!
To the other half of the men, the two damsels were a gift from Heaven and a way to get back at the Brigadier, who was hated by the men and all the officers who did not belong to his special club of snobs.
The farm boy was spotted and two soldiers aimed at him, preventing him to run to the farm house. The farm dog had been barking for a while, and now its barking was renewed, but the British paid no attention to it. England is a dog-loving country. Killing a dog would be a far more evil crime than raping a Brigadier’s niece, or two for that matter.
“Come here, lad! We ain’t gonna hurt you”, Corporal Baxter told the Ural farm boy, who didn’t have the foggiest idea of whatever he was saying, but he heard the tone of his voice and approached the group of khaki soldiers, his eyes locked on the girls who had just been gang-raped. The soldiers were smiling, smoking a cigarette or drinking out of a flask of scotch, or simply out of their canteen. Water with a touch of gin. Corporal Baxter went on…
“Come on and cheer up, my lad! That’s it! You would like to taste these girls, wouldn’t you? Well, take your pick! One has brown hair and is about your age, and the other has even darker hair and is a bit older, or less young shall we say. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
The boy followed the laughing Corporal’s gesture toward the younger girl with dark brown hair. He had large blue eyes that grew even larger as he contemplated Violet’s nakedness, the wide-open remnants of her khaki shirt increasing the erotic sight of her small breasts where she lay exhausted, her limbs still forming the same X as when she was being restrained. Her semen-filled cunt received most of the boy’s blue gaze as he advanced upon her.
“Stay away from my sister!” Esther hollered where she lay on her side, stark naked where the boys could see her curves at full leisure, and her delicate feet with their soles dirty with Ural earth. At some point, the soldiers had freed Esther from what was left of her uniform and ran their hands and kisses everywhere on her, including and especially her bare feet.
“Shut up, tramp! Shut up if you don’t want your ass raped with a bayonet!” the Lance Corporal barked, while the farm dog kept at its stoic job of barking in alarm. People from the farm’s neighbouring farm were no doubt watching as well. The Englishmen didn’t care about the peasants, as they stood tall and smoke and felt like little kings.
All soldiers watched the improbable encounter between the peasant boy from Ural and the maiden from London whose uncle had friends in the Horse Guards. This was happening!
The boy had his cock out of his dirty trousers, with spots of hen droppings on them, as he knelt and he began to masturbate, while Violet watched with a mix of horror and fascination, her dainty nose smelling his bizarre mix of dirty smell and boyish musk. This was her first time seeing a boy about her own age, although she sensed that this boy was probably a bit younger than sixteen. What a horrible way for losing his virginity!
“Don’t… Please, don’t do this,” Violet said, as if talking to a boy on the verge to jump to his death from a white cliff near Dover. But she wasn’t resisting.
The boy didn’t understand and didn’t care. He lowered himself upon the naked English girl and from up close, she saw the acne on his face and smelled his breath. He had a bad breath and wasn’t as handsome as he looked from a distance. Violet recoiled, but he pressed himself on her and kissed her!
“That’s the way, boy! Yes! Go on, boy!” Corporal Baxter yelled. The farm dog kept barking. The father was watching from his window, but dared not go outside, afraid that the soldiers would turn on his house and find his daughters in the cellar. He was right to be afraid of this, but he risked losing his only son! The dilemma was killing him.
The boy was now attempting to get inside Violet, who cried and suffered under his bad attempts. To ease her pain and get it done quick, she helped him and opened her legs wider under him, knowing that if she didn’t, he would keep on fumbling and perhaps turn angry and violent. She had gained a lifetime of experience in these matters in a short while, when the soldiers had urgently filled her up with bad memories.
The boy grunted in Violet’s face, sometimes clumsily kissing her neck, where she felt his heated slobber along with his furious prick inside her. He grunted louder and more eagerly, increasingly so, until he screamed, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!”
The Corporal applauded the boy’s performance, but some of his men aimed at an approaching man, a middle-aged peasant coming from the farm house, unarmed, while his dog barked louder than ever. The soldiers quickly understood this was the boy’s father. He looked both angry and afraid. He began yelling at his son.
The son grew afraid and ran toward nearby woods, leaving his father alone with the English soldiers, whose uniforms had tell-tale smears of earth on their knees.
“We ain’t going to hurt you and your family, my brave friend!” Corporal Baxter told him, but he was reminded that English is of no use in Ural. He pointed at the girls, silently inviting him to take his turn inside of either one.
The forty-something peasant realized here and there that this was the true reason he had risked himself near the foreign soldiers. He wanted to fuck a maiden, even more so now that he saw them from up close. They were gorgeous, both of them!
“No… No, please!” Esther blurted out as she saw the older peasant walk straight at her. “Please! You’re too old!” the maiden said, oblivious of the sex she had had on many occasions with her late uncle Chester.
The peasant was upon Esther! Who screamed in horror as he crudely shoved her flat on her back and began licking her tits as if this act was the key to eternal happiness. After a short while, the man turned her around, where she now lay flat on her belly, and he began slobbering her butt, licking it with all he had while the soldiers cheered him on and the farm dog kept barking, while the serene clouds cruised way high up above the solemn pines, and Esther was crying and begging the father to stop, to spare whatever dignity she had left. Her sunny butt remained prey of his slobbering affections while Corporal Baxter laughed and asked her whether she liked this.
The older peasant was now like a cowboy on her legs, where his cock jutted out above the daylight moons of Esther’s butt. He began to masturbate! His cock wasn’t all the way hard, so he gave it a tight rubbing, until it was so.
Then he laid himself on his side while nudging the exhausted girl until she was also on her side with her heavenly curves in line with his penetrative branch, where he lost no time and gave Esther the full strong benefit of his branch, country bred in Ural. He loved how the sun played lights and shadows in her black hair against the pure white of her skin. He knew he was going to remain stiff and hard inside her all the way to the breeding explosion.
Violet watched the unthinkable happening before her very eyes! Everyone watched it while the dog kept barking tirelessly.
Tirelessly, the peasant bucked Esther in this side-way position, holding her hips with caressing hands, filling her with horror and disgust, and loving the sight of her buttocks as he country-bred her.
His middle-aged man’s groaning detonation echoed against nearby pines as he fully unloaded and gave Esther an orthodox belly-full of semen. The Protestant girl raised in London was now stone silent, unable to wrap her head around the brutal fact that she had just been raped by a Russian peasant in the far reaches of Ural.
The wind from the south carried firecracker sounds that tore the morning’s blue-sky peace.
“Fire-shots!” Corporal Baxter ejaculated as he was lowering his trousers again and about to try out a masturbation session over Violet’s tits.
“What’s this?” the Lance Corporal blurted out of his astonished face, echoed by most men. The farm dog kept barking on, its tail waggling about upon seeing and hearing so many unusual things at once.
More gunshots in even greater concentrations echoed against the transfixed squad of British soldiers, who suddenly felt really far away from home as they realized that the small town was under attack!
“Impossible!” Baxter bellowed. “Impossible! The Bolsheviks are too far! There’s the Czech Division between them and us!”
***
Belyyfontan was being attacked indeed.
Corporal Baxter and his brave men decided to seek shelter in the nearby farm house, although they avoided the barking dog that clearly didn’t like them. Lance Corporal John Armstrong had made a case for running the three verstes to town and help their brigade make a stand, and lost his argument, and the Lance Corporal ran to town by himself, seeking glory in a battle that was already lost.
The 1,600 strong English force had found comfortable lodgings and much comfort near the local women. They had made themselves at home, like Hannibal in Capua, the Ural Russian version of it, and they did not expect any enemy since two Czech brigades were between them and the Bolsheviks. Something unpredictable had happened.
Both Czech brigades had mutinied and killed nearly all their officers! And now the turned-Red Division was attacking the town! Woe betide the softened British force!
With the highest-ranking officers spending a quiet time in the mansion up north, only Captains and Lieutenants were left in town, and most of these brave officers made more of a stand to hide themselves and their lady companions than help organize a defense. It came down to the Sergeants and Corporals to do something, and by the time these back-bone petty officers had realized it was up to them to do something about it, the enemy was already swarming the streets!
The British soldiers were systematically hunted down by the turned-fanatic Czechs, who kept shouting Bolshevik slogans as they shot and bayoneted the British. Most of Belyyfontan was populated by poor people whose daughters had endured the assaults of British soldiers, who had behaved even worse than the Bolsheviks, so they turned on the garrison and joined the Czechs in the fight to liberate the town!
The well-off townsmen of Belyyfontan had quickly secured privileges from the occupying British. Their house were easily spotted since they all had a large white flag for Czarist support on their porch, and the local populace knew where to find them anyway. The panicked Englishmen who had avoided being slaughtered in the streets sought refuge in these privileged houses, where concerned fathers promptly hid their daughters.
When such a house was soon spotted, it was quickly surrounded and a short siege was fought that ended the same way every time: there were too few defenders and too many attackers. And when the Czechs stormed the house, the surviving defenders were either captured or slaughtered, and the ones who did survive witnessed the gang-rape of all female members of the household. These bourgeois houses would be turned into military brothels.
Shrill screams were heard inside the captured houses while British soldiers either tried to flee in the streets or found some cover and began shooting at the attackers, only to be shot themselves or bayoneted not long after. In this wild confusion, boys and old men of the town joined the Czechs and took whatever weapons they could find — pitchforks, axes, knives, staffs or their bare hands– and attacked the Englishmen! Kill the King’s men! Kill them all!
Most of the surviving British ran into the country, where farmers began shooting at them upon realizing they had either lost their rifles or had no more ammunition. Those British pigs who had harassed, sometimes even raped farm- and shepherd-girls weren’t exactly popular in the countryside. When the news of the mutiny spread, the peasants immediately hoisted a red blanket in front of their farm house to show support for the Soviets. And began hunting down the enemy like vermin.
In town, the white flags were ripped from the well-off porches and trampled in the dirt! The change had been too sudden for the owners to take these flags off, and now they paid the price as Czech soldiers and lower-class folks stormed their houses! As per the unwritten rules of war, the victorious Czechs overran each and every house with a white flag, and after slaughtering the handful of British defenders in it, they began “inspecting for hidden weapons”, looking for girls, as the battle rush made them horny. Not a single town girl under the age of thirty-five was spared.
The Mayor’s daughter had escaped the sacked towns-hall, only to fall in the hands of a small mob made of old men and Czech soldiers and schoolboys, who were all strangers to her since she did her schooling at home, while waiting to be married off. She was offered a brutal marriage with the populace. The poor girl, who had been successfully hidden from the prior Bolsheviks, was a virgin to this day. Her auburn hair became ablaze under the sun as she was paraded in the street and surrounded by a growing crowd of inflating lusts. And low-class women who jeered at her. Some of these townswomen offered themselves to schoolboys and an open-sky orgy ensued where boys screamed the loss of their innocence inside some half-naked neighbour whose inhibitions had fallen as he learned that some grown women secretly wanted apple-cheeks lads.
“Ilsa! Show us your titties!” Someone in the press of men yelled at the captured daughter.
“Look at her legs!” another man bellowed as he rose the hem of her dark dress to reveal a pair of thighs where no man had ever put a hand on.
Ripping sounds and loud cheers and whistles saluted the wide opening of Ilsa’s fancy dark-mauve dress — and an old man with missing teeth, whom she had known by sight for years as a beggar, pressed the sides of her corset, opened it and made short work of her petticoat, where his eyes and his bad breath met the revealed flesh apples of her bosom!
Where he became a wrinkled baby sucking for whatever milk the she had.
Ilsa protested, saying she was the Mayor’s daughter and only sixteen, but she soon found herself naked on the street dirt, and shrieked in shame as a Czech Sergeant fingered her, then shrieked in pain as the sweaty-faced Sergeant yelled something and thrust himself inside her, entering deep and hard and not lasting long; leaving her shocked with a load of sperm inside her bruised virginity while a Corporal laid down on top of her, commented on her fiery brown bush of hair, and didn’t mind sloppy seconds, for she was as beautiful as a spring flower under this autumn sky where the wind had just turned.
Although they had changed sides, the Czechs still raped the women in descending order of rank, like they had done in Yekaterinburg — from the officers to the Sergeants and Corporals, down to the rank-and-file and to the drummer boys. Except most of the officers were organically elected among the natural leaders. One forty-year-old chaplain, popular among the troops for his inspired sermons, looked in the face of a hastily stripped girl with the eyes of a demon as he penetrated her and raped her on the floor of her bedroom, with men holding her limbs and calling her a “Czarist whore”.
Today’s sermon was a guttural act of grunting and dumped frothing slobber on the girl’s face until the chaplain’s final blessing from hell.
One young townswoman was grabbed by old men, bent over a well and gang-fucked with a mix of deep shame and secret excitement as each of these old men furnished her with time-tested sperm oil. Such strength where they held her slim waist! Such thirst for her in these old veterans!
Another young wife was grabbed by a gang of boys, who hastily stripped her naked and submitted her to a collective shower of jism as they masturbated all around and over her revealed nakedness; some of the boys eventually raped her and she didn’t know what to make of this as a screaming boy filled her up with the chance for a baby whose father would be weirdly close in age to this newborn. A future fiction writer was there on that day, and years later, he would write about this lovely woman who said he was too young, but didn’t stop him, and how he religiously kissed her bare feet and ejaculated on them while contemplating her long brown hair under this October sun at noon.
The female Soviet prisoners were freed from jail… and gang-raped by the celebrating Czechs. They endured the ordeal like professional whores who had grown used to be ill-treated. The young female officers were fought over by the soldiers, since the red squares on their collars guaranteed a massive ejaculation where grunts and victory cries echoed against jail walls, and the rats remained hidden from the trampling chaos where unwashed women quietly whimpered and waited for this storm to abate. Raped in their torn, filthy uniforms that acted like rags enhancing their erotic debasement.
Joseppe Constantini was an Italian merchant who had solved the problems of life by living a simple, happy life in this small town lost somewhere among the pines and mountains and valleys between Moscow and Yekaterinburg. His business was not much, but it didn’t take much to earn a living in this small country town. He had arrived there with his wife in 1904 and his then-toddler daughter. This toddler had grown into the town’s prettiest girl, by the name of Stefania. She had a smile that was a sun of hope and made any trip to this town worthwhile. Her brown eyes were gems more precious than anything for any boy who had met her.
Her father had kept her successfully hidden from the Red Army, then from the White Army, until she fell in love with a dashing young officer in the British force.
When all hell broke loose, Joseppe’s house was besieged for more than an hour, defended by this dashing Lieutenant and a handful of King’s soldiers who suddenly regretted not being in France fighting the Germans with better odds of survival, while Stefania was herself helping to re-load the rifles and even took a rifle and shot at the attackers herself when one man had fallen. But then, her lover recoiled from the next shattered window and she saw he was wounded in his neck and looking back at her with shock in his grey eyes from Dublin.
“Hide… save, your- self…” the Irish Lieutenant feebly whispered as she kissed him, bathing his handsome face with her tears. He used his last breath to warn the girl he loved.
When they overran the house, the Czechs found Stefania crying her heart out over the officer’s body. He was the only man she ever loved.
“Stefania! Nasconditi!” (Stefania! Hide!) Joseppe said as he got beaten up by mutinied soldiers, but it was too late. Soldiers went through all rooms and soon found his wife and Stefania’s two younger sisters, both at the very dawn of their maiden years, and the girls began shrieking in glass-breaking intensity as the mad soldiers, too battle drunk to know what they were doing, began to savagely undress the young maidens!
As he saw Stefania with her long dark hair, in her royal-blue dress that powerfully hinted at her kneeling beauty where she kept crying over her dead lover, while his men groped her, the elected Captain leading the Czechs whistled and grinned. “Well well well! Look what we have here! Grab her!”
Stefania was grabbed by soldiers ignoring her father’s Italian threats. Joseppe was knocked out by a well-aimed rifle-butt while the last two defenders were duly bayoneted, one of whom had a raging erection as he heard the shrill screaming of the younger sisters and the wife being raped in the other rooms, and gazed at Stefania about to be raped. This soldier died with an indignant look on his face, because he was only 20 and felt he had the right to live and witness the rape, and then perhaps go back home to his fiancée.
Stefania’s tears were licked off her pretty face by the newly elected Captain as he licked and drank her peachy soft cheeks. And he proclaimed in Czech that she was to be raped by order of rank, that her beauty deserved that the custom be strictly observed, without stating the obvious fact that this served his own best interest as his erection was growing stiff down there.
She tried to claw his face, but she was restrained by grinning soldiers, so she spat in his proud face and looked at him defiantly. He just smiled grabbed her chin, pinching it so hard she winced in pain, her lovely mouth ajar. Then he slapped her and enjoyed her yelp while her young sisters shrieked and called their mommy, who was herself being abused in the next room.
“All right, boys! Let’s have her right now and undress her later! Get her on this table! We’ve done this before…”
A table was cleared of some remaining tin plates and cups, then the sobbing girl was bent over it, then the leader himself rose her blue dress along with the hem of her petticoat and he pushed all her garments up her legs and against her waist, crudely revealing her bottom amid her sobs, their jeers and laughter and the shrill screams from the other rooms. Stefania’s bottom was just as soft and white as her cheeks. Men groped her curves of peachy splendour that fed their raging erections. This was going to be a well-deserved fuck after a well-fought siege!
The Captain grinned with an evil smile as he fingered Stefania, who cursed at him as she felt his fingers inside her, but other men were pressing her head on the table while contemplating her long raven hair, while she kept hearing the gang-rape of her beloved sisters, and she cried more for them than for herself. Stefania was a tough girl and almost a young woman, and she felt proud to be the same age as Grand Duchess Anastasia, whom she hoped was still alive. She was a Czarist at heart and hated those Bolsheviks touching her!
The penetration happened. Brutal! Stealing her virginity from her, from her dead gentleman, as the brute broke her in. Painfully so. With unwelcome hands on her waist and about everywhere else as well. Their victorious cheers and jeers deafened her as she screamed on, her cheek pressed on the table…
“Aaaaahh naaaaaaaooooo! Noooooooooooooo! Aaaaaa hhaaaa haaaa haaaaaaaaaaaaa RRRRRHHHHHHHAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA NNHAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
As she wailed, Stefania showed a face just as beautiful as her most beautiful smile where her cheek slid on the tabletop in rhythm with the demise of her virtue. A soldier gently stroked her hair while restraining her and as their officer ploughed grunting new paths inside her, the men around her felt that the trip was worthwhile while eagerly waiting their turns, basking in their hard-fought victory that had left four of them biting the dust.
Two wounded men were also there waiting their turn. They wouldn’t have missed this for all the coffee in Italy! Stefania’s wailing, her eyes, her white skin against the royal blue of her tucked-up dress, her raven hair, the scent of her wailing panic… all of her made a lovely music for all their senses!
Her lovely face sliding on and on, on the well-polished table, Stefania screamed her life out along with her young sisters in other rooms. Her hands were brought together in the small of her back as the Captain now raped her while holding her wrists together and using her arms like some sort of reins, and indeed he bred her like a prancing stallion as he got lost in her long dark hair and kept feeling her white buns under the mess of her tucked-up dress, and his eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets as he felt God’s bliss and filled the room with a Czech war cry…
“AAAAaaaaaaahh Vyhráli-isme! (we won)!!!”
Something in her eyes was extinguished forever as she received his jism.”N-haaaaaa haaaaaaaaa…”
The next man urgently took his own turn and soon filled her up. A third one did likewise. Then a fourth man…
All this time, her younger sisters kept on screaming as if they were trying to wake up the dead. Joseppe had come to just in time to see the second or third man rape his elder daughter, while hearing his younger ones sharing the same fate and completing his shame. The evil eye had burst in his house in the form of Czech men. And old men from the town showed up as well, and joined the circle of soldiers waiting their turn while pillaging his liquors and whatever things that had some value. Joseppe cried like a baby.
“Stefania… Noo! No!” was all he could say and do, restrained and tied up as he was by grinning men who knew enough Russian to tell him that his daughter was about to become the regiment’s favourite whore.
Stefania’s rich blue dress was pushed hard, further away up her waist, so the men could see the full splendour of her buttocks and her slim hourglass shape as some amaretto was being poured on her, perfuming her skin with sweetness where some dirty soldier licked her butt with an avid tongue that never hoped to taste such skin, before the man, urged by many others, became one with her.
The bearded soldier pounded her while grunting like a Czech bear, a love-sick bear! His grunts melting on her like warm snot on the ever-creaking table. Stefania would remain haunted by the gentle brushing of his beard against her buttocks when he kissed her flesh after filling her up. Her cheek sliding forever on the table, she swore to return to Italy and become a nun, as it would take a lifetime of holy chastity to erase the shame.
“Gigliola! Lucia!!!” Stefania yelled on and on, more worried about her sisters than herself as she kept receiving the platoon’s homages as the pairs of hands followed one another upon her graceful, yet robust hips. The monsters! Lucia and Gigliola were so young!
It didn’t matter to those brutes. A battle of life and death is something way too violent where all inhibitions go down the gutter and all laws, conventions and rules of morality get obliterated. When those soldiers overran the house, they killed any surviving men or rendered them helpless and then they turned on anyone who had tits and a pussy.
As she was owned by more and more men, her cheek sliding on that same table where she had played solitaire since her early childhood, Stefania realised that those things happen all the time around the world, that it was shocking, too shocking for most writers to write, and yet it was just as much part of life as the sun in the sky.
Stefania couldn’t help but picture Gigliola and her perfect Milanese features twisted by fright as the troops grabbed her and began ripping her dress off—-her favourite emerald-green dress that suited her black hair so well! This while Lucia, as blonde as her mother, tried to defend herself from her childish height, with little fists that had the men laughing while they began to proudly show her their cocks, in a scene not unlike one where Alice in wonderland gets suddenly gang-raped by the Queen’s deck-of-card soldiers, with cocks in two colours — red for her pussy, black for her ass.
Indeed, the soldiers, turned into pigs, felt that those little ladies were worth completely undressing. Gigliola looked suddenly very erotic as they swiftly stripped her out of her green dress and ripped her nightgown off her budding breasts where wine-brown nipples were already like a woman’s, and presently sucked by those pigs while one gave the wailing, protesting girl her very first man’s finger to force her body into unwanted wetness, while little Lucia tried to push the men back with her little hands, the hands of a fairy as she shrieked and the men laughed at her while freeing her long golden hair from white ribbons and feeling her body through her dress.
Gigliola was tossed on her twin sister’s bed and forced to remain there on all fours, naked and fingered and screaming amid the sweaty circle of men, a prisoner of their strong musk, while Lucia used her fairy’s hands and her shrill screaming to no avail as the Czech Bolsheviks ripped her white dress and her petticoat off her! soon baring her little breasts, where she had small rose buds for nipples that could no longer avoid being sucked by the soldiers! And later by old men, and boys, from her own town.
Gigliola and Lucia could feel and smell their erections! No amount of screaming would prevent the worst from happening.
With an erection proud to do such an evil thing, the Corporal who had been fingering Gigliola pushed himself inside her virginity and altered her as she screamed with unknown pain under the strain from this madman who grunted like a rutting baboon upon feeling how tight she was. This man had never had a girl with such raven-dark hair, since his wife back home was a ginger head with freckles on her face while the Soviet girl he’d had was bright blonde, so he immensely enjoyed raping this girl who was just like the girls in his innermost dreams. And felt with intense satisfaction he was going to last long enough to really enjoy her.
Lucia was soon Eve-naked and bent over a small desk she used to do her homework on. It was a white desk where her cheek was pressed on while men took whiffs of her blonde hair as they restrained her and an argument erupted between two Sergeants as to who was going first. A middle-aged soldier used the opportunity to plunge onto her peachy buttocks, and pressed his ill-shaven face on them! licking her buns with despair in his tongue, as if trying to capture eternal youth, filling his nostrils with her scent, while another man quickly got rid of her ankle-high shoes and her white silk socks, leaving her as naked as a nude fairy. Surrounded by mad cocks as the waiting men masturbated or helped restraining the shrieking young lady who was being forced into early adulthood.
The bedroom was soon filled by gorilla-sounding grunts as the Corporal baptised Gigliola’s womb and the Sergeant who had won the fisticuff entered inside Lucia, causing the poor girl to shriek in absolute pain as he had forgotten to slobber his cock or to finger her first, and the small lady received him with only a token amount of juices from her adrenaline-rich terror.
“AAAAAAA AAA AAAAAA AAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA NNAAOOOOO AAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA…”
Lucia’s shrieks met the ears of both her sisters. Gigliolia, raped on all fours on the creaking bed where hands held her taut buttocks as the second man victoriously slid inside her war-prize body. This man would later be haunted by guilt for raping a girl just as young as his own daughter. And this was why he erupted so soon with such a geyser of sperm. Inside the raven-haired young lady.
Stefania overheard Lucia’s house-shattering shrieks as she herself had a victory-sliding Czech inside her, gang-raped as she was near her dead lover. With her father forced to watch.
Her mother was also being raped, but as an afterthought. In fact, the blonde mother had been duly stripped naked, but was only used for stimulating erections, by men who would not waste semen inside an older woman. Silvia was still charming to look at, especially naked, but her slightly sagging breasts were no match for Gigliola’s spring apples or Lucia’s rose buds.
Many of those men would be struck by horrible guilt afterwards, when their battle-rushed body would calm down and settle in that realisation of “what have I done?”
But for now, nothing felt better than Gigliola’s white butt being repeatedly struck, or Lucia’s cock-hardening curves of small proportions being repeatedly flattened in this mad celebration of victory, where one man after the other found that a small girl like Lucia could pull a huge load of semen. The troops did their utmost to make her pregnant as each one of their grunting strokes turned Lucia into a woman.
Stefania was well worth stripping naked.
After eight men gave her their sperm, the Captain showed sound judgement as he felt it was time to get rid of her royal-blue dress and see what hidden treasures she had. It was a feast to rip her dress off her while she screamed out of such a pretty face, her eyes filled with tears; her eyes that nonetheless filled men’s heart with life and hope, where she could see her lover’s bloody corpse while she was being ruthlessly undressed in front of her sobbing father, with her sisters’ persisting screams in the background and the ever-present wailing of her mother.
The fancy buttons were sent flying off her forced-open dress while she protested, her small wrists restrained, her ankles tightly held where men were quickly pulling her shoes off her feet. She went on screaming, only able to attract more men from the streets and into the house as she shrieked and begged the Czechs to please stop This! knowing she would die of shame if her father saw her in the nude.
Stefania’s dress was ripped open, intensifying the ivory white of her fancy corset. The leader smiled and ordered the men to restrain her good, then he pressed the sides of the corset and freed its busks in front. Her corset was urgently opened! then her petticoat ripped apart! Stefania’s screams shattered any leftover dignity in the house as her breasts came into view, perky! White mounds of skin cream; orbs from heaven catching the room’s daylight with a silver necklace showing a Catholic crucifix on her cleavage; white mounds with rosy-brown nipples causing all men present to become madly erect, including her own shamed father.
A small mob of old townsmen and boys had materialised around her and made the large house too small and crowded. Amid the mob, Stefania recognised Jouko, her sixty-year-old neighbour, from Finland, who was always so nice and warm, but now he had the eyes of a madman as he drank her naked bosom with his gaze, and Jouko caught side of her slender figure, Eve-nude and restrained by yelling jeering soldiers and school-boys, with her intimate triangle of black hair between her pristine thighs! Her carpet! Touched! Hidden by hands of boys and men as she screamed on, mad with shame.
The waves of her rape organically became organised. Stefania was lifted off her dainty feet, kissed there by some boy she knew by sight while she was spread-eagled in their arms and held there, screaming louder and shriller than ever, her voice turning husky as the organically appointed Captain of these Czech brigands stood between her squirming legs and speared himself inside her, deep to the hilt, as he looked at her and her jiggling tits with the face of a demonic satyr! Just like he had planned! He had raped her from behind, now he was having her again full-blast forward!
This while Stefania kept hearing and sensing her sisters sharing her fate, her mind’s eye seeing Lucia’s too-young buttocks repeatedly flattened in urgent rapes, under mad grunts from soldiers and men from this very town! Lucia’s vagina filled with cocks well before her fit time.
Captain Sedlák, born to a poor peasant family in Bohemia, raped the eldest daughter of an Italian merchant, the said father kept standing and made to watch Stefania’s tits-jiggling ordeal where she was kept horizontal in some chaotic poetry, her naked body offered like a holy relic for the jeering multitude as the Captain went full steam ahead and violated her with even more delight than the first time, for he could now see the convulsions and the bitterness in her lovely face where her long dark hair kept swaying where she was constantly being groped and teased and laughed at and spat on by the compact mix of soldiers and old men and boys, some of whom lived on her street.
After the Captain’s urgent and loud bliss came the Sergeants, the Corporals and the Privates in this carrousel from hell where Stefania was given far too much semen than her pussy could handle, and much of it dripped down on the Turkish carpet covering the floor under the savage press of men, all of whom brandishing an eager cock. She was the town’s most wanted girl!
Stefania found it was even worse to be gang-raped by boys and old men that she had known for years. Seeing their true face as each one looked down upon her while raping her was unbearable. In the midst of this press and the never-ending buffeting and thrusts where she took cocks of all ages, Stefania learned that social rules and law are but a thin veneer hiding man’s animal nature. Eve had sinned with the apple and ever since then, man was a lot closer to dirt than heaven. And those orthodox men raping her like a bunch of vociferating pagans saw her Catholic crucifix and saw in it a fitting reason to ease their conscience.
“Catholic tramp! Take this! Uuughhh!”
“She got what she deserved! But she’s pretty! UUHHHHGGH!!!” ejaculated Jouko while spitting on her and filling her up. The old neighbour couldn’t believe how good it felt to ejaculate inside Stefania the town’s prettiest girl!
In this supreme moment, Stefania felt a nascent orgasm within her as her body jerked in their arms and men laughed upon hearing her forced moaning. Then a boy a bit younger than her materialised and yelled, “Stefania!” as he clumsily tried to penetrate her. His grandfather was there and tossed him aside!
“Look, Petia! This is how it’s done! Uughh!” and with his strain and these winged words, the sixty-something man expertly entered inside Stefania and as he forced-fucked her, he had leisure to compare between her and the Soviet officer he had raped some weeks before. For starters, Stefania had even better tits. There were no words to convey how he felt inside her while she avoided his gaze, her circling eyes looking at all those men and soldiers restraining her, looking at all of them like a trapped animal as her breasts kept jiggling amid this press of men and erect cocks. Her face always bitter as if she just swallowed a dozen lemons. While the boy’s grandfather kept yelling and grunting his mad pleasure in her face…
“Aaaaahh! This one’s much better! Oh God! The youngest girl I ever had! Thank you God! Thank you thank you thank you yes yes yes yess aaaaaahhhhh! Soo good to rape a Catholic girl—YES! YES! yESSSS!!!”
And like a madman, the old produce store-keeper raped Stefania, whom he had often seen in his store, raping her with his hands locked around her waist and looking at the tumult of her moving breasts, enjoying her tired whimpers, while he hammered her on and on amid the loud crowd of eager or satisfied men, and at last, the old satyr felt the magic in his wobbly legs and shot a huge load inside her!
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!! This… how t’s done…”
His grand son received a pat of encouragement on his shoulder, from a Czech soldier, as he took over. This time his charge was a success, and as she looked up at him, Stefania felt sorry for him as she received him deep and he began to pound her, his eyes avoiding her gaze and remaining locked on her ever-moving breasts, and she was taken by a sudden surge of moaning heat and tightened her legs around him as he soon screamed the loss of his virginity and gave her an incredible amount of local pudding.
Then another school-boy raped Stefania and she was hit by a violent climax, her body surrendering to this massive rape where such a young boy was allowed to take his pleasure inside her! She felt the air and a boy’s slobber kiss her feet and her lower legs, along with a legion of hands, and in this surreal moment where bliss forced itself upon her, Stefania failed to keep herself from feeling how erotic this was, to be naked and raped by her own town, in a grand flourish of grunts and unrestrained frenzy as these men’s secret desire for her was exploding in broad daylight. With her father watching. While both her sisters were being horribly raped.
Her own father stood there, restrained, with an immensely hard erection pushing his trousers, while the jeering multitude kept giving her their sperm. Her eyes met the room’s crucifix and Stefania was surprised to see it was still upright and not inverted, although what was happening to her and her sisters was positively evil.
Stefania knew and dreaded this moment. They took her father and forced him to walk near her, while dropping his trousers and freeing his cock where veins were at the bursting point. She fainted!
They woke her with a pressing collective assault of kisses and tongues all over her body! The Captain gleefully sucking her free-moving breasts while others worshipped every little inch of her, from her bare feet all the way to her long dark hair, with concentrating circles of moving hands where her skin was softest. Exploring her nakedness while Joseppe lost his mind and began to masturbate.
“Now girl!” the Captain said in Russian, smiling under his cheap moustache, “You choose! You get fucked by your own father, or you suck his cock!”
“I… I want to… be fucked…” Stefania heard herself say, as if she were someone else, and her pussy exploded with forbidden anticipation as her body ran away with her, crazy-mad by the horrific notion of getting fucked by her own father.
The smiling press of men, and boys and old men laughing at him, moved her and bent her over the table, where her father laid eyes on her graceful nakedness for the very first time, at full leisure to see her well-shaped ass and her slit that seemed to be waiting for him. He cried like a baby as he realised that something monstrous within him actually wanted this intercourse to happen. Like many fathers with such a beautiful daughter, he had at times fantasised about her during sex with his wife.
Like in a mad dream where the whole town was cheering and mocking him, Joseppe found himself holding Stefania’s hips and curves, and he began to caress her! Running his hands around the contours of Stefania’s butt! Contours that deserved to be immortalised by Michelangelo.
And with his stiff cock full of hot veins, Joseppe touched his daughter’s butt cheek before inserting his crime inside her while the soldiers near him laughed, and felt horny at the close sight of this incest.
Stefania began to moan hard, her cheek kissing the table and she did not resist, and she felt too dignified to say “Father! No!” because she knew and half-accepted that her bruised body, and her tired mind, secretly wanted this sombre act to happen. His hands were warm and fatherly upon her as he took his shame and pleasure, even telling her he loved her, his eyes hypnotised by her bottom against him, with her narrow butt-crack that seemed all-powerful and enhanced the white daylight of her skin, and kept his cock tight and hard inside her as he fed her his hot strokes while hearing her immoral moaning.
Soon, Joseppe was pounding her in the crowded room that suddenly fell silent. Only the sounds of flesh against flesh, his moans and Stefania’s were heard.
Silvia his wife was kindly escorted in the room, where she cursed and fainted as she saw her husband raping their daughter against the table, in this dignified room that had seen so many happy days for them, a good Catholic family who feared God.
The crucifix high on the wall was a silent witness of the supreme sin where Stefania moaned loud and high under the empire of an all-encompassing orgasm where she found herself wishing that her father would keep ploughing her until sunset, and then she had a fierce after-shock climax that had her shivering against the sturdy table as the whole room was filled with Joseppe’s long wailing cry of despair as he blissfully exploded inside her!
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