The Englishmen under Baxter are in dire straits. Two girls are at the mercy of events. Major Sidorov keeps on being a lucky bastard. Morals have a dubious lead.
In the farm house, Corporal John Baxter had to do some rapid thinking. What shall he do? The farm dog kept barking, seriously getting on his nerves. They had hastily taken refuge in this small house, bringing Esther and Violet along with them while the family father, between two soldiers, kept muttering things in Russian, about feeling guilty and ashamed for what he did, while avoiding looking directly at the girls. None of the British except Violet understood Russian, and no one in these parts spoke English.
“Henry! Jeremy! Go down in the cellar, see who’s there!” Baxter ordered while grinning at the father, who stared back at him silently with notes of amusement in his eyes.
Both soldiers soon came back and reported that no one was down there, but there were lots of beer kegs and some liquor and there were pieces of smoked ham and sausages, and a cat that ran into a dark corner.
The soldiers soon began to bring their attention back to their captive girls, but Corporal Baxter was having none of this. “Enemy soldiers may come any minute! There’s no time for this! And one of you, shoot that dog!”
Indeed, the dog kept barking non-stop and even an English Corporal felt this had been going on for too long. The soldier Baxter had nodded at hesitated; raping girls was fine in wartime, but killing a dog?
Sensing this was about the dog, the father offered to go calm down the dog in a Russian no one of his distinguished guests understood. Only Violet understood his words and she felt a sordid sense of admiration for his courage in front of seven armed men, although he did rape Esther her elder sister.
Another soldier went outside with a Victorian-era revolver, an Enfield Mark 1, .476 cal., while the father began to yell at Baxter, in tears, begging him to spare his dog in words that met the Corporal’s dumb-looking face.
The soldier got outside and the dog barked louder, frantically. One shot was heard.
It wasn’t the Enfield revolver.
The soldier fell while the dog went into its hiding place, no longer pulling on its chain, and now quietly howling as it knew the sound of the son’s rifle. For the son had run and met his mother and sisters at the exit of a secret tunnel that led from the cellar to the nearby wood. You don’t undergo occupation by the Red Army as a peasant without developing some shrewd survival skills; the father and son had worked day and night to dig that tunnel while disguising the daughters as young farm boys.
The mother had handed his rifle to her son, and she herself kept the father’s Nagant revolver. The elder sister had run to a neighbouring farm, whose father, while grabbing his old rifle, sent his younger son running to the next farm, and before long, Corporal Baxter would have a dozen armed farmers and farm boys besieging him.
With the Lance Corporal gone and one soldier dead, Baxter didn’t know what to do. Now there were only six of them left and he sensed that something bad was about to happen if they stayed in that house. He tried to think, but had no idea what to do, other than grab the father, walk out the door and go out a few yards, forced to do so because the soldier’s body lay on the threshold. He was struck by the countryside’s beauty on this gorgeous day, but also struck by distant gunshots from the town two miles away. Something in him told him to throw his gun down, raise his hands and hope for the shooter’s mercy, but he was too proud to do this: he was a King’s soldier facing peasants.
Then, holding his revolver at the father’s head, Corporal Baxter, out of his well-fed face, shouted out to wherever he thought the shooter was, and made his threat in plain English…
“Hey you out there! Come on out right now! Come out and drop your rifle, or I’ll shoot your father as dead as a door nail!”
The son’s bullet flew through his head and Baxter’s squad-leading career ended right there, with his brain shutting down for good at the feet of this Ural farmer, on this gorgeous day, thousands of miles away from any place where English was spoken and understood.
The five remaining soldiers inside grew terrified, wondering what to do. The father ran to the dog, unchained it and then found shelter in the nearby wood. None of the surviving soldiers dared venture outside, for good reason. They had heard the rifle shot, seen their leader fall, and knew the shooter was out there aiming at the open door and was a crack shot.
“Do, do you know any Russian?” Jeremy asked of Esther and Violet while avoiding the gazes of the girls he and his mates had raped.
Esther cast a “go to hell” look back at him and began playing chess with herself, after spotting a chessboard she didn’t expect to find in a peasant’s house.
Violet cast him an amused smile, all too happy to see two of the soldiers dead and the surviving ones in such dire straits. She knew some Russian, but there was no way she was going to help her rapists.
“William,” said the oldest soldier to the youngest one, “William, go outside and tell this shooter we will leave!”
“Why don’t you go out yourself, Henry?”
“I’m the one in charge! You do as I say!”
“They don’t speak English around here, you idiot! What do you want me to tell him?! He’ll shoot me like a duck as soon as I walk out!”
Henry wanted to punch the young soldier, but Jeremy stopped him, while Violet and Esther cast an amused look at their bickering.
“So, what do you suggest we do, bright young man? Sit here and wait our turn to get killed?” Jeremy asked of William.
“Let’s think,” William replied. “This peasant either lives alone in this house with his son, or he has a wife and other children who aren’t home. The son is probably gone off to alarm the neighbouring farm, and before long we’ll have armed peasants surrounding us, and the local people hate us!”
“Nonsense,” Henry cut in, “we’re the King’s men, we’re here to restore their beloved Czar into power! We’re here to…”
“How did you make it to Private while being so stupid?”
“I’ll fucking kill ya!” Henry hollered, rising his bayonet at the rookie soldier, but again, Jeremy held him with ease as he was the squad’s strongest man.
“Keep on talking, Will. What should we do?” Jeremy asked.
“Quite frankly, I’m at a loss, but we must do something and quick. In a few minutes there’ll be a dozen angry farmers surrounding us! We’ll run out of ammo and this crack shooter will be deadly for any man trying to shoot out of these windows, and we can’t negotiate we don’t speak Russian! We must get out of here now! Oh wait, I think I’ve got something…”
***
Major Ivan Sidorov’s Thoughts…
In this old mansion buried deep in the northern woods, its walls riddled with ivy and long-gone memories, there I stand. Shaving myself in an upstairs bedroom where I spent the night. It is a stately mirror fitting for such a stately bedroom with a massive bed that’s like everything else in this mansion — at least a hundred years old, in a gaunt room with dark wooden walls where each shadow has perhaps something more than darkness. I don’t care about taking my watch out of my pocket and looking at it; I like not knowing what time it is. Here I can hope to spend three days of quiet or a bit longer if there’s enough food.
The men have spent the night downstairs with our lovely captives, and how can I blame them? Having young women to do as they please with is something still a bit new to them, although many of them partook to the orgy with the Soviet prisoners, but there are corpses to bury and the men may still turn against me, I’m an officer. I need to have Sergeant Novák on my side.
As I finish shaving, I think of that morning where I did just that in Tobolsk, the very morning I met Grand Duchess Anastasia for the first time. Nastya. The Merry little one. We played colorito while she played footsie with me under the table. Oh God! She had such wonderful dainty feet! So feminine! And now I’ve turned against her kind again by returning to the Red Army!
Something’s written on the mirror! How come I didn’t notice it before? It’s dark. Looks like written by a stick for lips, the kind only rich women can afford…
“You’re a traitor. Rapist!”
Then I could swear I heard some faint, light footsteps. Perhaps a girl, laughing? I quickly finish shaving, half looking at the mirror for I”m dead afraid of what I might see in it. I cut myself, but don’t mind. As I quickly walk out of this eerie room, I think I heard a merry girl’s voice say something. “Rapist.”
Downstairs, I found the men still having their fun with the naked girls, each one in tears as the fifty-plus men subject them to a slew of debasing kisses and caresses, never getting bored with their adorable bodies. The Czech hunters were oblivious to the stench from the English corpses. They also seemed oblivious to their officer and his whereabouts. The First Lieutenant was presently feeding crows in the gray morning.
“Sergeant Novák, you’re in charge of your men! I’m just the brigade major, remember?”
Still naked, the tall Sergeant displayed the body of a Czech Apollo, and I heard one of the youngest girls say she was a bit lucky in her misfortune to have been used by such a gorgeous man. He looked around for pieces of his uniform and finally spotted his tunic.
Most of the mutinied men were casting suspicious looks at me and my Major’s White Army uniform as they slowly cleared the cobwebs. I could hear them think about their officer and what could have happened to him.
“The First Lieutenant’s dead,” I said plainly in my accented Czech for all to hear. “He was killed last night, don’t you remember?”
The men all looked at each other, unable to foggily remember what the others had done before the orgy, where they ended up quite drunk. The Sergeant was quickly getting dressed again and ordered the men to do likewise, and then instructed them to get those corpses outside and bury them. Four soldiers were designated cooks with the mission to prepare breakfast for us and our beautiful captives.
“You give us good sex, we give you food!” I told the prisoners, looking personally at the blonde lady I had seen in Petersburg four years before. She looked back at me and yelped as she recognized me while chastely hiding her breasts, although I could see the rest of her beauty where she sat on her heels, next to the blonde nun, who did a much better job at hiding her nakedness using her arms and legs.
I spoke again to my most precious ally among the mutinied soldiers…
“Sergeant Novák! These are your men! I’ll personally recommend you for promotion to Captain in the Red Army! These are your men. This is your company of hunters. You decide whether these young ladies remain naked or they get to put on some clothes. Just have some men escort them everywhere they go. As for myself, I’ll remain the brigade Major and I think this is now a Red Brigade! My first act as such will be to get those dead gentleman underground, and I recommend that you open the windows; it’s getting stuffy in here!”
Stuffy was a gross understatement. The two youngsters vomited in a corner of the ballroom, mixing their erotic nakedness to the most unglamorous smell of a stomach’s spilled contents. The stench and horror from the corpses was too much to bear. The naked ladies were all taken outside under escort. Breakfast would be postponed. And besides, we all needed some fresh air.
This was a warm day in October. I remembered a British soldier with whom I had spoken in my atrocious English, a Lance Corporal by the name of Armstrong telling me he once travelled to Canada, the Frech-speaking part of it, the Province of Quebec or Kvebek I couldn’t say, and over there, they have a name for this warm time of October; the Indians’ summer.
While soldiers found pieces of red cloth to put on their pale-khaki uniforms and show their newfound Bolshevik allegiance, others kept gazing at the naked ladies, some of whom followed suit and vomited like the youngsters had. We would of course make the naked aristocrats wash the ball-room, then let us wash them using buckets of water from the well, as a requirement to win the right to put on a dress and earn their breakfast. These ladies clearly needed to learn the value of honest work.
Soldiers began carrying the dead officers outside. Some of the dead gentlemen had a red sash that was put to good use. The sashes were cut and the men shared pieces of its red fabric to adorn their uniform. All thirteen corpses were quickly buried in shallow graves, soon to be devoured by wildlife.
We were done with the burying of the Brigadier and his snob club of officers, and the Czechs were into building crude wooden crosses like good Catholics for those Protestant gentlemen, with some of the young ladies even helping out. In the end, one of the men said a short prayer and we observed a moment of silence for the fallen men, while one of the ladies kept sobbing in the mourning of her lover with the blonde nun comforting her.
“What shall we do now, Sir?” asked First Sergeant Novák.
“Like I said, this is your company, Captain!” I replied, smiling. I looked at all the men and felt they were beginning to accept me, some of them grinning at me, but there was no way to be absolutely sure. And my life would be just as much at risk if I went into these woods alone than staying here.
“What do you think’s going to happen, Major?” inquired a young fellow by the name of Swoboda.
“What I think, Ludvik?” I replied, using his first name as I recalled how he raped the strikingly beautiful brunette, how he got lost in his basic act of thrusting inside her like a madman while gazing at her tits and forcing his thrusts deeper while he remained propped up on his arms above the tumult of her bosom and the aimless shaking of her sobbing head. “What I think? I think that our own brigade has turned Red and is going to attack the town and slaughter all the British in it. I think this is happening right now as I speak, and the town’s too far for us to hear the gunshots, and the privileged folks of this town are going to have their house sacked and witness the gang-rape of their daughters.”
“You mean, the entire brigade? Turned Red?!”
“Yes, Ludvik. Exactly. If we turned, then chances are that most of the brigade also did, nay, the whole Division! Our General’s dead, long live our General!”
Sergeant Novák, or rather Captain Novák ordered a toast to celebrate.
***
Inside the farm house, William had become de facto squad leader. Violet and Esther began protesting when the eighteen-year-old Private told the others what his idea was.
“We’re going to strip the girls naked and use them as a shield, then we run for it!”
“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard!” Henry said.
“Do you have a better idea, wise man?” the youngster replied.
Henry bolted at William, but the others restrained him.
“All right, we’ll do that!” said Jeremy, and this settled the matter for the others as well.
“Wait, but no! No!” Esther protested.
“Yes!” Jeremy bellowed. “Yes! Disrobe now or we’ll do it for you!”
Violet had already begun to undo the buttons that had survived her initial rape, and she presently dropped her field shirt, lighting up the dark wooden farm house with the bright flash of her skin, wowing the soldiers for a fleeting moment where they forgot their deadly predicament. Violet then undid her belt and dropped her khaki trousers down to her dainty ankles, where her rapists had left her barefoot. She stood naked amid the men gazing at her, at her thin beauty, at her feet, her face flushed with shame, in silent tears, her eyes filled with hatred. “I hope they kill you all!” she thought.
“All right, Esther. Strip!” Henry ordered, happy to use some authority after his defeat to a youngster.
“I… can’t… no…”
“All right, grab her!” Henry added, smiling wide while gazing at Violet’s charms and trying to resolve the unfathomable equation of her hip curves, slender and yet vast relative to her mouse-size waist.
Esther filled the little house with her screams as three soldiers promptly released her from the social weight of her uniform, enjoying the act of further tearing her field shirt and forcing her trousers down, even kissing her spacious butt as the girl kept wailing in despair.
Outside, fifty yards away, the farm boy wondered what the deuce was going on inside his father’s house. Were they stupid enough to rape the girls again while besieged, with the door open?! That fat Corporal had indeed showed an award-winning degree of asinine intellect. The result lay in a pool of blood near the edge of the house, among the dog’s shit.
A boy from the neighbouring farm came at him running, holding a rifle. Mikhail recognized Stefan, a boy about two years younger than himself and already a good shot. Before long, other farmers would encircle the doomed Englishmen, who would then be forced to shoot back and would eventually run out of bullets, or forced to surrender, and Mikhail had made up his mind — These English pigs would be shot like dogs! Girls of the neighbouring farms had been harassed or worse by those English brigands. His sisters had been spared thanks to the secret tunnel he and his father had dug in addition to the usual farm chores; he had the earth embedded in his fingernails to prove it.
Mikhail told the younger boy to stay hidden and do nothing as he kept his aim on the open door.
A girl appeared, the very one he had raped, with brown hair and a skinny figure. She was, naked?! Then the other girl appeared, the one with black hair and a fuller figure. Also naked?!
As he kept his rifle aimed at them, he saw the soldiers hiding or trying to hide behind the panicked girls, whose cowering cries he could hear, but then the thinner girl ran forward and the English soldiers ran for it to his right! One soldier had stumbled on the dead Corporal and tripped. Mikhail aimed and scored an easy kill. At fifty yards, his head looked like a large balloon he couldn’t miss.
“This wood! Let’s go there!” Jeremy said, panting amid his running. Henry and one soldier followed him into the wood behind the house, while slender William was already far ahead and kept on running toward the east, and disappeared in a thick forest.
“I think… I think we’re, safe here!” Henry told the two others as he leaned on the sturdy trunk of an old birch, with the high canopy of pines casting comforting shadows on him and the other survivors.
Jeremy saw a man. The father. Standing five yards away. With a revolver pointed at him. And a loud Pow!
He felt as if a giant punched him on the chest and his legs sank under him as he heard another gunshot. Jeremy realized he was floating above the scene where Henry also fell while the third soldier crouched and aimed his rifle at the father, but he yelped as the dog seemed to leap out of nowhere and caught his leading arm. The third man failed to aim properly. The rifle went off and missed way high as the angry dog, a large shepherd dog, buried its teeth in the screaming man’s arm. Then the ominous Nagant spoke again, from point-blank range, and its fast bullet delivered its fast message through the man’s panicked brain.
Jeremy felt he was floating in the air, and saw his own lifeless body lying there at the foot of the birch, along with his two fallen mates; and then he felt he was flying higher, and higher. He was in the sky! So high! He wished himself back home, and the clouds went by him at a demented speed, and there he was. Whitby! Why didn’t he enlist in the Navy like his brother did? He’d be still alive, but then he remembered. His elder brother had been killed in action in the battle of Jutland two years ago.
He flew to his own house and saw his lovely sister, Maude. The very girl he had lost his virginity with. It was their secret. Maude was kneeling by her bed and praying. Praying for her brother Jeremy to come back home safe, to come back to her and love her again in secret; in mortal sin. His father was gone to work while his mother was in the kitchen, making bread as usual, sometimes looking at the calendar and he could almost hear her think. About him. Why did he do such a thing as raping girls? If he hadn’t, he would have kept his head and would be still alive and thinking on his feet like a good soldier ought to. He would have lived. For his folks. For Maude.
Someone lay a hand on his spiritual shoulder and an all-mighty voice said, “You are forgiven, my Son.”
Stefan ran to the front of the farm house, where he found himself alone with two naked girls. He didn’t know what to do and looked down at the grass, shocked upon seeing what he had seen! One of the girls spoke to him in passable Russian…
“I’m Violet, and this is Esther. Can you please hide us?”
Without thinking, Stefan took Violet by the hand and Esther followed. He led them beyond the road and into some thick woods. In these woods, the country boy had built a secret shack along with friends from other farms, including Mikhail. That’s where the twelve-year-old boy from Ural led the naked young ladies from England.
“There’s food in there! So, eat! You must be hungry. I’ll go get you girly clothes! Stay here. You’re safe.”
Stefan ran to his own house, where he told his mother about two English girls who had fled soldiers from her own country because they were harming them!
“I’m not surprised to hear this. Those English pigs know no boundaries! They even shot at the poor girls! I heard the shots. And both are naked? All right, take two of Lidia’s dresses,” the mother said with tears in her eyes. Lidia had been taken by the Bolsheviks and raped to death. She was only seventeen. “Bring these girls here, Mikhail, please do bring them here. I’ll raise them as my own daughters!”
As she spoke, the brave mother broke down in tears! Stefan lay a comforting hand on her back and promised her he’d do just that. He said he had hidden them in a safe place and would wait until the sun went down to safely bring the girls to her.
Stefan then went to find his dead sister’s dresses, of which he took two week-day dresses and, satisfied they were pretty much the right size, he went off, carrying both dresses under one arm while carrying his rifle in his right hand.
When he reached the secret shack in the woods, he heard the girls screaming in panic and ran forward!
“Ha ha! I knew it, father! I knew that Stefan would have taken the girls here!” Mikhail told his father, whose face was looking like the mask of a lust-filled demon as he anticipated another round of forced sex inside the girls.
“Well done, son! This time I’ll take the thin one and you take the one with the fuller butt!”
“Hold it right there!” Stefan said, standing fifteen yards away and aiming his rifle at the transfixed duo.
“Come on, Stefan! You ain’t gonna shoot at us!”
“Try me!”
Both father and son saw the steel-ice resolve in Stefan, who remained motionless while aiming at them. The girls had cowered back inside the shack and fallen silent. Mikhail began rising his rifle toward Stefan.
“Drop your rifle or I’ll shoot you! My mother has lost her daughter, remember? And she wants these two girls to adopt them!”
“Drop it, son!” said the father, as he secretly took hold of his Nagant revolver at his belt, his left hip toward Stefan, so the boy couldn’t see him take his revolver. The father’s soul was obscured by the evil prospect of raping the girls again.
Mikhail dropped his rifle and grinned, “All right, Stefan, you win!” He had seen his father’s ruse.
The father smiled as he rose his Nagant and aimed it at Stefan before the boy could react. His eyes went round as he shouted, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” and dropped his gun, before falling like a sack of potatoes, his face making a gentle thud in the earth among the forest ferns. Violet was there, standing in a sombre show of pure-white nakedness, with a bloody knife in her hand!
She looked like some antique Celtic girl fighting a battle in the nude to show her courage, now motionless, with fierce satisfaction in her eyes and blood reddening her blade.
It was no knife. It was the bayonet that Violet had taken from the dead soldier’s belt when she and Esther had remained by themselves in front of the house.
Mikhail stood there like a statue, unable to believe his father was gone.
“I sincerely apologize, Mikhail. I had no intention of hurting anyone of you!” Stefan said.
“He… He’s dead!” Mikhail blurted out as he gazed at his father, who lay facedown in the earth with golden autumn leaves mocking the dead man with their sunlight. “Stabbed through the heart! Dead! Dead!”
“Yes, and I’m sorry, Mikhail, but now you know what it’s like to lose a member of the family. This wouldn’t have happened if you had been reasonable. But don’t you see why my mother wants them as her daughters? I myself would be very happy to have these two girls as my sisters! Let’s turn something evil into something good!”
As he floated above his own cadaver, Sergei’s soul began to cry and begged God to forgive him. Stefan was right! Sergei felt a hand on his spiritual shoulder and heard an all-encompassing voice. “I forgive you, Son, but now you must suffer and learn. Now come down below…”
Mikhail hesitated. He felt like taking revenge upon the girls, but deep down, he was a good boy. He turned back and said he needed help to get his father buried, that he needed to get the parish priest. The said parish priest was in his town house, witnessing the gang-rape of his wife and his daughter at the hands of drunk Czechs.
After Mikhail was gone, Stefan helped both girls get dressed, while avoiding looking at the dead man. He briefly signed himself. Afraid that Mikhail would change his mind and return with a bunch of friends, Stefan said a brief prayer for the departed soul of Sergei, then led both barefoot girls in a walk through the forest he knew well, toward his home.
The girls, who had each been cruelly abused, weren’t exactly walking fast. Stefan helped them and also took a long circle around the usual route, afraid that Mikhail would have changed his mind and would be waiting for him with several friends in ambush. It was a long walk, at the end of which both girls had bleeding feet, but then, as the sun sank near the horizon and the autumn sky turned bright orange and the tall pines seemed on fire, casting long shadows, Stefan knew the rivulet he was crossing, while both Violet and Esther winced in pain as the water woke up the fire in their bleeding feet. They were now only a couple hundred metres from home!
“Stop right there, Stefan! Drop your rifle!”
It was Mikhail. Stefan had no doubt he had friends with him. A sorry lot!
Mikhail showed himself, twenty yards away, his rifle aimed straight at Stefan and the girls. Sure enough, several boys showed up beside him, each of them taller and older than Stefan. Five or six of them! Esther screamed and began to cry. Violet looked at them like a panther looking at prey.
Stefan spoke: “Mikhail! Look into your heart and ask yourself: would God approve of what you are about to do?”
“Stop preaching, little boy!” Evgeny snarled. Evgeny was the oldest one. He also had a rifle, like two of the others.
“Nice boring sermon, Stefan! Go cry to mommy!” said another tall boy as he advanced on the girls, who both recoiled, but two other boys had moved to cut them off.
Before long, the bad boys surrounded the trio and Violet heard their command. Disrobe! Esther predictably shook her head and was soon grabbed. Evgeny let out a loud “ooohh!” when Esther’s breasts made a sudden appearance amid her shrill screams and the sharp fabric-tearing sounds. While Stefan got beaten up and the valiant boy defended himself with surprising strength and courage.
“Ya’ll have to kill me!” Stefan said as he punched back and one of the taller boys hit the ground, but another boy grabbed him from behind.
Violet ran. Two boys went after her, including Mikhail, who dropped his own rifle to run faster, obsessed as he was by the prospect of stripping the girl naked and know again how good it feels to become a prisoner inside her. Mikhail was the first on her.
He shoved Violet down on a bed of fallen birch leaves, and he leaped upon her, and met a burning, searing pain in his abdomen. The other boy looked at the scene, and stopped as he watched Mikhail’s body grow limp and lifeless on Violet, who now struggled under Mikhail’s weight and after some efforts, freed herself from his body. As she stood up, there was a large smear of fresh blood on her light yellow dress. She was holding a bloody blade; a bayonet! They had not seen she was armed in their blinding lust!
The boy screamed and ran away.
Esther heard a motherly voice. She realized that the boys around her had morphed into statues of stupor and she saw a woman holding an old-fashioned rifle. Stefan picked up his rifle and aimed it at the four boys, none of whom dared to make a move.
“Aren’t you ashamed, Roman? Simeon? Boris? And you, Alexandri, the son of such a honest man? Run now and I won’t say anything! Run or I’ll shoot you like rabbits!”
The boys ran away. One boy remained, the fifth one, unarmed and showing the way to where Mikhail had run after the other girl. When she saw the country woman and Esther crying in her arms, Violet broke down, dropped the bayonet and ran at the mother to join Esther. The mother, tears in her eyes, comforted her newfound daughters…
“It’s all right! You can stay here! You’re safe! Maroushka knows what war does to girls, but now you’re safe!”
Stefan found Mikhail. He had a deep stabbing wound in his gut and looked at him in panic as he quickly lost blood. He needed a doctor, and quick, but the doctor was in town and the town was being sacked. Mikhail was going to die. Stefan felt sorry for him. If only he had chosen to be honest and righteous, he would still be alive. Now he was about to join his father. Stefan told the other boy it was no use. Both boys signed themselves, and Mikhail screamed in terror, causing even more blood to gush out of his wound.
“I’m sorry, Mikhail, but there’s no way to go fetch Doctor Strabovski; the town is being overrun by Bolsheviks. Pray to God and ask His forgiveness, for what you were about to do was pure evil!”
“I’ll kill you! I swear you ain’t gonna get away with–Aaaaaahhh!”
Both boys signed themselves as the dying farm boy kept screaming in agony. Darkness crept around them. Death was there to reap another soul. Stefan and the repenting boy remained with Mikhail and ignored his raging threats, while Stefan kept telling him to pray and repent. They made sure Mikhail didn’t die alone while Maroushka took Esther and Violet home. Mikhail’s dog showed up and whimpered near him while licking his wound. Sensing the tragedy, the brave dog began to howl, and would sit there, howling, guarding the corpse the whole night and the next morning, keeping the crows away until some neighbours fetched the dead boy and brought his corpse to his mother and sisters for a proper burial.
Back home, Stefan found some happiness as he looked at the famished girls while they ate some comforting bortsch. Esther wearing a Sunday dress from his dead sister’s wardrobe, Violet wearing a clean dress from the same wardrobe. He now had two elder sisters, who would share the old bedroom of the one he had lost. He took Violet’s hand and smiled.
“I’ll go make some hot chai,” he told his new sisters.
***
Major Sidorov’s Thoughts…
It was a fine morning with the breeze carrying autumn’s forest scents. After the burial and breakfast, we decided, me and Sergeant Novák, that there was no point in going to town to see what was happening. The attack was highly probable and it could only come from our own brigade. There was enough stored food in the house to last us for nearly a week! And we decided to spend a few days here in this mansion, to take time out from the war with our lovely little harem.
Soon enough, with the front being broken by our brigade’s defection, the front would move to us. But what about the rest of our Division? Did the other brigade remain loyal to the Czar? If so, they were going to quickly retreat east and then run into us! Their cavalry first.
I told Novák that starting tomorrow, we would be wise to set a proper perimeter toward the west and look out for enemy cavalry. “They have hussars, Cossack hussars,” I told the First Sergeant, “and as we both know, cavalrymen make nice targets for hunters in the forest, but for to-day, let’s have some fun with our young ladies! We should ask them their names. After all, we haven’t been properly introduced, what do they know of us beside our cocks and the fact we’re Bolsheviks?”
Novák grinned.
The blonde lady I had seen in Petersburg looked lovely in the white dress she had been allowed to don. She was Princess Anna Nikolaievna Yusupov, the second-born daughter of the late Prince Nikolai Yusupov, a rich noble of ancient birth.
“He was massacred in his own hotel in Petersburg when the Revolution broke out,” Princess Anna said, with sadness, using a voice that showed a musical contrast against her grim tale. “Massacred by angry proletarians, shortly after sending me away with both my sisters. We three wound up here after a long flight fraught with dangers, here, where the English protected us in exchange for what you can guess, but they kept my young sisters’ virtue intact, until you showed up!”
There was little doubt as to who her sisters were. Both youngsters.
“So I raped a princess last night!” Sergeant Novák ejaculated as he cast a triumphant gaze at the darkest brunette, who looked down in shame, her face blushing. Her sister hugged her, both girls looked at by a wide circle of twenty-plus unwashed soldiers, as they cried together, their forbidden beauty hinted at by their dusk rose dresses. The other sister was two shades of brown lighter and half the men liked her better since she had a bit more breasts and hips a bit fuller. Although the more petite one was known to generate huge loads of semen while making nice warm whimpers when fucked.
They were prompted to say their names and spat them out amid their sobs. The little lady with the browner hair and fuller hips was Lyubov, meaning Love. The truly petite one with black hair was Snezhana, thus called due to her skin being as white as pure snow.
The rest of the womenfolk were forcibly invited to kindly introduce themselves, which they did as they preferred not to face our wrath and liked to remain clothed.
The blonde nun I had raped was Sister Irina, born to a rich noble family of Moscow.
The strikingly beautiful girl with dark hair was Sofia, the daughter of a Count whose country mansion had been sacked and set ablaze by an angry mob of moujiks. She had escaped through sheer luck.
“Lucky for us!” said the heavy-set soldier as he blew her a kiss in the most fashionable gesture he could muster — a gross attempt.
The two other ladies were Irina and Nadia, both of them noble socialites in Petersburg before the Revolution, now members of our impromptu harem.
“I suggest we take them out for a stroll in the forest!” I said, using the social tone of an Englishman proposing a friendly game of croquet on a sunny day.
“That’s a grand idea!” Novák said, his eyes on Snezhana. “Let’s have an English-style picnic under the sun!”
Things were organized with military efficiency. Food was taken and carried and the crying miladies, all seven of them, were kindly escorted outdoors, knowing full well what was in store for them. We wanted to see how bright their skin would be under the sun; and they knew it!
We walked to a clearing only a verst away, with a pond where ducks enjoyed the quiet of the day.
“All right! Let’s begin the fiesta!” Sergeant Novák shouted as he grabbed Snezhana and hastily tore open her dress-top, and since she wore no corset as she wasn’t allowed to, the adolescent girl had no choice but cry and make little fists where grinning Czechs held her wrists while Novák devoured her maiden’s tits with his mad slobbering tongue.
“Noo! Please don’t!!!” Sofia begged amid the clearing, the place now full of female lamentations, as the heavy-set soldier ripped her mauve-blue dress open and gave a rush of fresh air to her white breasts, which he pressed his mug against and sucked avidly, engulfing one in his mouth while Sofia screamed her life out!
Sister Irina was grabbed by me and two others! I felt suddenly fascinated by the notion of sex with a blonde! She was from a noble family and this was enough for her breasts to make me breathless when I roughly uncovered them as the entire place was filled by sounds of ripping fabric, shows of panicked female flesh and pointless screaming, head-shaking tantrums and powerless rage in the form of tight little fists where wrists were cruelly restrained.
What followed was predictable. My cock was out like a sword of punishment for Sister Irina, whose buttocks and legs were bright under the high sun as I threatened her into being a good cowgirl. I laid down on the grass and she rode me while facing away from me, crying, and forced-kissed by a kneeling soldier who gently hugged her as she felt my penetration and bitterly sobbed as I took her waist and began to move her to my liking while the lad kept kissing her.
I heard the rapes happening around me, recognized Anna’s lovely voice amid the cries and whimpers and loud grunts, as I enjoyed the priceless view of Sister Irina’s butt where I kept her moving on my lap, holding her taut waist as I kept impaling her. I felt her tight and hot around me, I also felt her feet against my hips and congratulated myself for having thought of dropping my trousers all the way down to my knees, my boots preventing them to go any further down.
“You’re a very good fuck, Irina! I love your golden hair under the sun! Makes your whole back ablaze with gold!”
Sister Irina wasn’t too flattered by my compliment. She kept sobbing while the lad who had forced-kissed her now stood tall near her and masturbated, and another soldier did likewise, this one much older.
I felt a most pleasing tension around my balls as my cock promptly reached its boiling point inside her, with the pressure from my hands around her waist, the sight of her back covered by her long hair leading to the insane show of her buttocks, her skin suave in ungodly scent and her feet keeping their lovely little pressure against me as I enjoyed this act of fucking a noble girl.
“Too bad your father isn’t here to watch this!” I jested as I kept her riding me and sailed into the land of no return. It was wonderful to feel the twitch of my cock inside her tight sanctum as I made her ride me like my own personal slave, while she was kept moving between two soldiers who now masturbated like demented satyrs above her cock-riding splendour.
I erupted with flourish! Inside the noble nun! “AAAAAAAAAAHHHGGHHH!”
She received the sperm from us three, all at once! Her pussy got flooded by my eruption as I felt weightless and forgot where I was, while the lad and the grown man uttered their bursting satisfaction as she received their pungent tribute on her face and tits!
“Oaah God! Why did you abandon me?” the defiled nun said as we ejaculated inside and upon her.
I got up to my feet, and drank out of a flask of vodka while I basked in my sunlit victory and contemplated the sin-filled scenery around me. It was a bucolic debauchery where all the young miladies had been urgently stripped naked and were now receiving the urgent assaults from over fifty soldiers!
The heavy-set soldier was naked from the waist down and, his bright eyes silently telling the tale of his consumed pleasure inside her as he now smiled down on Sofia and watched a fellow soldier rape her in a surreal scene, where the powerful beauty of her buttocks kept getting flattened against the grinning soldier who had the lucky spot of using her while feeling the softness of her bottom in repeat collisions, where he held her czarist-white hips and enjoyed the unthinkable occurring to his full benefit.
Sofia rested on her knees and elbows and her graceful long hair of night gave shimmering plays of light following the rhythm of her whimpering defilement. Her whimpers were indeed something to hear! A line-up of ten men were waiting for the privilege of mounting her, masturbating with pride, for they were strong young men with erections to be proud of as their eyes kept devouring her in wild anticipation!
The man cursed as he ejaculated inside her, and kissed her butt before promptly leaving his spot for the next soldier, who eagerly knelt behind her and gave Sofia his deepest sympathy for her dead virtue, in what began to look like a contest to see who would fuck her the hardest and deepest. And perhaps make her secretly enjoy it. Given the sobbing sounds she made while kissing the ferns, Sofia was far from enjoying the forced sex.
“Maybe this is her first time having sex outdoors!” a Corporal observed.
“Yeah, maybe,” replied the heavy-set man. “She’s in love with me, she just doesn’t know it yet. I’m gonna give it to her one more time and she’ll marry me!” his gross face grinning while he masturbated his well-girthed cock, his eyes never leaving the scene where Sofia kept kissing ferns while offering her curves to the sun. While ten men bucked her like breeding bulls.
Both youngsters were whimpering nearby. Snezhana was smiled-down on by Novák as he smoked a cigarette while watching her prolonged defilement as she screamed under each new man. Novák had told me he had enjoyed her on all fours, but the men, as I could see, were stylish enough to use her the good old way where they could kiss her, lick her face and ask her plainly if she liked having sex outdoors, all this while properly pounding her in unrestrained frenzy until they burst loud and full inside her.
Her sister Lyubov was being given the same brand of brutal love by a second squad, while the light-brown-haired ladies were both just as Eve-naked and were used as supernumeraries by the Czech hunters, who felt they were both beautiful, but looked weirdly plain next to the five others! So they used them for breast-sucking and skin-kissing entertainment once they had spent a load inside the others. It was a beautiful abuse!
“We clearly hit the jackpot, Captain!” I told Novák while offering him my flask of vodka, and he had enough good taste to take the flask and walk to the group of men holding Princess Anna floating in their midst, spread-eagled in their arms, while taking their fun turns between her noble-white legs and she kept fiercely protesting…
“I forbid you! You, ahh-naaoooo! Have no rii-ight! I’m… A Princess! Ancient-aahaaa, lineage! Naaoooo! Aaha–noooo Forbid yaaa! aaaa-ha aaahaa…”
Anna was well-fucked, naked and floating amid the men, her breasts a perfect sunny sight where they jiggled along with the harsh thrusts she kept receiving from the happy mob while her angry face seemed even more beautiful! Her long golden hair kept swaying along with her raging protests and the strokes from a soldier who soon died inside her, only to be replaced by another man from the rank-and-file, or a Corporal, who said she was “only good to fuck and receive sperm from the Bolshevik soldiers now that the wind had turned! Uugghh!”
And the man would remain silent, his face stern as he punished the fallen princess and his gaze drank her captured beauty while she kept protesting, kept whimpering and saying she was a princess of ancient birth while the men mocked her and Captain Novák poured vodka on her breasts!
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA YYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!” uttered the soldier who erupted inside her.
“Come on, Major! Your turn! Give her the privilege of an officer!”
I couldn’t refuse such an invitation. My cock was still half-flaccid from the earlier play inside Sister Irina, but I stoically masturbated where I now stood between Anna’s legs and above her vulva while she kept writhing and squirming and screaming threats out of her angry face, which only made her prettier to me!
“You’re very pretty when you’re angry, Milady!”
“Go to hell, Major! aahaa naaoooo… Aaaa I’ll have you hanged! Skinned alive!”
Those winged words were also for Novák, who was bent over her, lost in the act of licking vodka off her breasts, the gorgeous tits shimmering under the sun, with slobber mixed with the liquor as the breeze brought me the fermented whiff of it, and I kept masturbating over the golden-hair triangle of her ever-protesting vulva where she kept squirming and yelling threats amid the thick press of men, amid their sweating faces, their mocking laughter and their jeers. This was exactly the fantasy I had about her four years ago when I imagined the soldiers suddenly attacking the gentry and grabbing all the miladies before gang-raping them! Which we could physically do. There were thousands of us parading on that day; all tied up by our collective fear of the sacred Czar we had been sworn to serve and protect.
As I pictured her getting urgently undressed by us in front of her then-alive father, I masturbated myself into a state of glorious stiffness, which Anna soon received the full benefit of as she yelped and screamed in anger, knowing it was me inside her! I grabbed her waist and began to pound her in unrestrained abandon, with immense glee, knowing she was of such a high rank!
“How do you like this, Milady? aaahh ahh ahhrrrr! I’m a Major promoted from the–ahh ranks!”
I basked in her whimpering protests, and especially loved it whenever she repeated she was a princess of old lineage, while I greatly exerted my own humble lineage inside her. Deep to the hilt! Raping her like a true soldier! I was barking at her! “Ahrrr aahrr ahrr ahhrrr aaahrr ahhrrr!”
Novák was still sucking her tits, partially hiding the tumult of her shaking head of blonde hair from me, but I saw enough of her distress for it to add to my sense of victory as I felt her unwilling vaginal contractions! The forced coitus was lasting delightfully long!
“Wrap your legs around me, Milady! Wrap them around me! Say you love being raped by Red soldiers! Say it!” I ordered as I felt her inner contractions increasing where I’d soon be forced to surrender myself.
“Go to hell! Nooo oooooooh naaahhhh!”
She squirmed and protested, but the men around her made her wrap her legs around me while Novák was now taunting her and I suddenly saw her slobbered tits, so bright and shimmering under the sun! Victory! She was ours! Her nipples as white as the white sun.
“I love your breasts, Milady!” I uttered under the pressure inside her, then her heels began to strike my buttocks as I frantically pounded her in all-out frenzy, feeling her legs wrapped around me and loving the sight of her ever-bobbing head and the ever-moving dance where her distressed breasts were getting touched, kissed and gazed at by the jeering soldiers. Ooh, those strikes from her feet behind me…
“Aaaaaah yes yes yes yes YES! WE WON!!! UUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRHH!!!”
I exploded inside her! Hard! Violent ropes of sperm that summarized my innermost desire and frustration toward her kind. My scream of bliss echoed against the tall pines as she received my pudding from St. Petersburg, my load abolishing the distance between us.
She bitterly cried.
I then watched no less than eight men, if not ten or twelve, take their urgent turns inside her, without a single hair of her touching the ground. Novák screamed like a dying man when he emptied his balls inside her and thanked her.
Twice she moaned and failed to escape her own climax! She was just good to fuck! And well fucked! I could swear she was secretly enjoying this.
We gang-raped her and all the others until the sun filled the sky with bright orange and some scattered clouds slowly turning from a delicate gray into a dark purple gray with streaks of rose.
I would never forget the time, in mid-afternoon, when I sucked Sofia’s magic breasts, where she was wet from a forced bath in the pond. Each pearl of water on her skin held a universe of light, the secret of life, as I sucked her wet breasts!
Then the miracle happened. My cock was armed and loaded again! I turned Sofia around and began licking her fantastic butt! Her skin wet and fresh! I kissed her feet, then watched the heavy-set soldier use her again, on all fours. He asked her to marry him before exploding inside her in a demented frenzy where his fingers sank into her abused buttocks, with earth embedded in his fingernails from when he had buried her dead gentleman.
By the time he was done, my cock was throbbing with lust and madness!
I took this strikingly beautiful girl from behind, her raven hair nearly covering all her back as I began using her bottom as curves only meant for my selfish pleasure, but Sofia began to moan when I thrust myself inside her and we became one in spite of her youth vs. my growing years. With such raven hair, Sofia struck me as the image of a daughter I could have had with Sumeyye, the best of both worlds— hair as black as Turkish night, skin as bright as the Russian winter.
I ended up holding her little wrists together and basking in her whimpers while standing on my knees and abandoning myself to the soft repeated collisions with her buttocks as I used her arms for good mounting leverage and thus fucked her even deeper! She moaned like crazy, begged me to please stop and called the guards!
“Guards! Guards! Kill this man! Nooo I–this is so well organized!”
And as she spoke in her ravings, she shuddered! I felt it through her butt, through her wrists where I kept using her arms like reins. She was climaxing… “Guards guards! I’m raped! Come and join them!” she said, demented amid a long series of hot whimpers!
I looked up at the sky and there are no words to aptly describe the mix of my guilt and unreal pleasure as I exploded deep inside Sofia and felt that special place where searing pain meets absolute pleasure. The clouds seemed to dance as Sofia took my load! I nearly passed out from the sheer pleasure.
In the middle of my bliss, I heard Novak speak.
“We know you love this! Just say you do! Say I do!”
I looked and saw Novák talking to Snezhana, with his tongue, his head now buried between her snow-white legs as he kept giving love to her cunt while others were pinning her on the pond’s bank, restraining her wrists while taking turns in sucking the small insolence of her breasts. Such a petite girl! Her skin so bright against the grass. Later on, at sunset, I would desperately masturbate over her face and give her breasts the very last drops of my semen; glistening with fiery glow under the all-orange sky. A swimming duck seemed to watch.
“We know you love this! Say you do!” I told Sofia mid-afternoon, before watching how the next couple of men also used her on all fours and gave her as many orgasms she did not wish for. My eyes were more than pleased to watch her getting thus used, my gaze following the insisting motions where her armpits met the overhanging curves of her young bosom, one nipple visible to me. Such a delicate bud of girly flesh, and the storm of war a man would stir just to taste it.
“We know you love this, Milady!” I told Sofia later, before washing her with the pond’s water and giving her a long, deeply felt cunnilingus, my nose caressing her raven bush of intimate hair until she begged me to stop before squirting my face and yelling her moaning surrender at the heavens.
The sky where the wind had turned.
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