The small British garrison proves as stubborn as a bulldog. The Soviet Brigade fights on and they have women for some distraction. Others = Ghost love
Major Sidorov’s Thoughts
My life now is a series of autumn days that all look the same, with trenches and the imperative of never showing my head to the enemy. We’ve already lost four officers to snipers. The only artillery they have are 3-inch Stokes Mortars, but they’re deadly accurate within 500 yards and can reach 1,200. Our few pieces of artillery are shelling them all right, but they just won’t quit! Thankfully, my shelter is out of reach of their mortars.
I’m part of the Soviet Czech brigade besieging a stubborn English-held position near Birsk while the rest of the army corps has moved on to the East where the new frontline is crystallizing, still some distance away from Yekaterinburg. The Kazakh cavalry regiment is patrolling and protecting our supply line while roaming the farmlands around Belyyfontan.
They’ve captured a female pilot, an American adventuress. She’s now available in the pleasure shacks. I went once, just for the thrill of knowing what it feels like to enjoy an air-woman. I did not use her holes; only enjoyed the touch of her and ended up using her feet to let my semen rain on her. She has common-place brown hair that has not been washed in a while and I’m afraid there could be lice. There’s something pretty in her face, the kind of pretty unique to rich daddy’s girls. She has some mystery, perhaps because she’s a pilot. The disgusted looks she gives me remind me I’m twice her age.
The horsemen have left her with her flight jacket and it’s fun to look at her tits while she’s wearing it open as per the unwritten rules she has to follow to get food. She speaks with an accent I’ve never heard before. Her face reminds me of Anika! Anika… Such love in her eyes when she’s taken by wild sex. I wonder where she is.
I came back to see her again. This time I sucked her breasts after pouring vodka on them. She was by now completely submissive and looked shocked to be treated gently while I learned the light rosy brown of her nipples and studied the small goosebumps on her areolas. I was much pleased by the way her perky breasts yielded under my gentle pressure as I kissed them and cupped them while making my tongue known to her wild-west skin. I ended up masturbating over them. She was still wearing her wide-open leather jacket and gave me that same disgusted look when I gave them a honest coating of middle-aged pudding.
Then about ten Czech soldiers came, led by a well-built Corporal, who was of course the first man inside her. After they helped her out of her flight jacket, he took her with her legs up and pinned under him. Her bare feet pointing at the ceiling above his grunts beautifully summarized America having fallen to a bunch of peasants from central Europe.
I offered vodka to these brave men as they took their turns inside the American pilot. They tried her out in different styles, dog-style and missionary being the prevalent themes. Czechs usually love to look into the eyes of a girl they’re having. I noticed she met these young men with eyes that looked startled. Not so disgusted.
I kissed her bare feet whenever one man was on top of her. She was whimpering like a tramp and had no idea it was me giving love to her feet. They were small and incredibly silky. Yes, this was a daughter born to a family with money. I poured the last of my vodka on these wonderful feet. She deserved it. I ended up masturbating anew over her tits until I dumped a fresh load on her while screaming, “Take this! Rich girl!”
She looked back at me with nothing but disgust and contempt in her brown eyes. My hair have greyed some more since last spring.
“Rapist. Traitor.”
Anastasia’s voice is always there. Stopping only to resume when I almost think it’s gone. I hate her! She’s ruining my life. And yet I always long for her. Seeing me with other women seems to make her jealous, because whenever I’m in the pleasure shacks, I see her and her disfigured, nose-less face. No one else sees her.
Once, I was back in my shelter. She was suddenly there. Nastya, with her chestnut bobbed hair. Pretty as always with baby fat in her cheeks. She’s unbuttoning her blue travel dress until she stands topless in front of me, all five feet two of her.
Nastya doesn’t say a word. She looks filled with the golden light of her youth. Her nipples are of a warm ancient rose on top of breasts that rule above worlds of shadow. Each one seems to be asking the obvious. How do you like me? She’s smiling with her eyes like bright seawater under the roof lantern, her cheeks bathing in this golden light, like a maiden under an antique torch for her wedding.
I fall down on my knees and begin worshiping her dead cold tits, warming them with my slobber and hands. Finger-rolling her nipples as she begins to whimper.
“Yes… Yes! Da… Da!” speaks she amid her heated breathing as I pull her dress down until I’m face to hips with her and kiss her dark chestnut triangle or hair! She will always remain the daughter of a Czar. The last one.
“Yes! Da! Da Da… Ddaaahh!” Her naked hips dance between my hands. It’s as if her ghastly vulva spoke to me. I feel proud not to be afraid of her anymore.
Nastya ends up on my bunk where I take her on all fours, deep and hard, just like I did on the train in Tyumen. She enjoys the pounding in a world of high-pitched whimpers. I know I have this power over her. The power to make her feel alive. I love the fat on her wide buttocks. It echoes the baby fat in her cheeks. She loves this. Her skin will always be a priceless delicacy. If the White Army were guaranteed taking turns inside her and her three sisters for their reward, we would stand no chance of winning the war.
I enter a trance and feel cut in half as I powerfully ejaculate! Bilguun my orderly finds me alone, kneeling on my bunk with my trousers down and my hands pretending to hold the hips of a nonexistent girl. Bilguun just smiles. This isn’t the first time he’s caught me like this.
There are also eight captive nurses brought by the Kazakhs. British nurses, along with Englishmen, whose anus became the fun of those soldiers who have this penchant. I have nothing against sodomites since this leaves more girls for us men. They take great care and hide their penchant, because the Soviets will jail sodomites.
The nurses are well treated. They joined the Czech and Russian nurses and are now treating our wounded like the angels of mercy they are, but when they first came riding on spare horses, I saw how torn and dirty their uniforms were and knew instantly they had been molested upon their capture. But the horsemen hold them in high regard now. I later learn that the Kazakhs were strafed by a plane that they shot down, and hence captured the pilot, and the nurses treated their wounded in spite of what had occurred after their capture!
There was even a fight when two of our men were killed by Kazakhs after taking liberties with the head nurse, a strikingly beautiful woman whose hair shimmer with death and mystery. Under a white veil she wears too loose under her hat.
This fight turned into a tedious affair where I sat on the court martial and it ended up with an agreement where the four accused were spared because we depend on the Kazakhs for our supplies. Their commander reluctantly agreed to let us flog his four men. Twenty knout lashes each. The Kazakh second-in-command, a heavy-set Major, pleaded for only ten lashes and thus managed to get the number lowered from thirty. Twenty was still harsh enough, but also lenient since they had killed two men.
I myself came next day at dawn and offered them each a biting stick. I know what the knout feels like, how much it burns the flesh. Each man spat and looked at me with contempt out of his dark Asian eyes. Brave men! Hardly a sound or a complaint came out of them as the knout rained down on their hide. The British nurses treated them after.
One of these nurses has golden hair and almost looks like a nun with her veil. There’s still road dirt embedded in her Red Cross apron. Her young body looks gorgeous under her outfit and I know that her tits have seen the sunlight where they ought not to. I find it very troubling to picture these copper-skin men taking their liberties with such a pure-looking girl. Grinning with their high cheek bones as their dark eyes get fully lighted by her tits before they give her their eastern law. It reminds me of when negroes from the ship’s crew partook to the gang-rape of the Grand Duchesses and their female retinue on the Russ. The Lithuanians who were there on that deck must sure remember how the young Baroness Tamara took the cock of a negro inside her, and her skin looked so fantastically white!
I observe the head nurse closely. Every day. My position as brigade Major gives me ample reasons to be at the field hospital where I “make sure they have supplies and medications”. They have one young English soldier, a Private with eyes filled with intelligence, who came with a festering wound in his leg and is now recovering nicely. He doesn’t seem to remember me from when I was on the enemy side, but I do remember his boyish face that now seems to harbour more tragedy than a lad should be asked to handle.
“Rapist!”
Anastasia’s voice is ever present in my head. I confuse the present with the past.
Me and this English boy can’t talk to each other. His knowledge of Russian is big fat zero and so is my knowledge of English. I show him an old beat-up picture of Sümeyye wearing a traditional Ottoman dress, and he smiles. (See image.)
I come everyday to drink a glass of vodka with him. And observe the head nurse. She is God-forbid beautiful. A live example of a woman being at her zenith at thirty. Nearly all men in the brigade dream of her. There are talks of mutiny and going back to the White Army, the actual, hidden reason being to storm the field hospital. I hear soldiers say that “Czech cocks are just what she and her nurses need”. Others reply and say it would bring bad luck to touch the angels of mercy.
I’ve learned her name. Mina. She has that look of a woman who was raped and finds herself addicted to sex. She keeps the usual distance from me, perhaps more, as there’s also fear in her eyes, a great deal of it. And yet her eyes often wander on me. I caught her once looking at me like that, with her mouth slightly ajar. A troubled silence between us that has a deeper reason than her limited knowledge of Russian.
She’s not easy to approach. The British nurses always stay in their own group.
“Rapist!”
Anastasia’s ever-present. She almost makes me forget Sümeyye. Once, just after a mortar barrage that nearly blasted my shelter, while Bilguun was gone to the brothel in Birsk, she was there! Begging me to please strip her naked out of her ghastly dress. The lady in white!
“Young lady!” I replied. “Young lady! Let me kiss your ass! Young lady! Let me warm the baby fat on your chilly face! Let me look into the seawater eyes of your death under this light! Let me kiss you and bring you back to life.”
I say all that, and more, while covering her with kisses. Her feet are a winter paradise of silky skin. I remember our game of colorito. My breath’s like a fire on these little feet! “Da! Ddhaaa!” she purrs and whimpers on as I heat her skin and re-learn the contours of her baby-fat buttocks and the young geography of her breasts. I’d rather have her dead than none at all. She laughs, says she’s been more fucked now than when she was alive! A lot more. By other men too. She says she’s a sexual nosferatu.
“Aren’t you jealous, Ivan?”
“Nay, it just makes you hotter. Now shut up and take me inside you. Like this!”
I lie down on my bunk and nudge her into riding me while looking away! The heart shape of her butt facing me, where I can caress her feet at will. We naturally concord into the inevitable penetration.
“AAAAAAAAAAAhh!”
My yell of delight can only be understood by a man who’s had sex with a seventeen-year-old girl in his forties or beyond. Her pussy is preternatural cold, but my stiff satisfaction inside her refuses to die! I love this idea of fucking an un-dead woman.
This reminds me of an encounter I’ve always kept secret within my soul; an encounter that took place back in the summer of 1887 when I took a walk in the middle of the night and found myself near a graveyard, quite secluded, where junipers played a windy tune with their pendulous branchlets under a sky of scudding clouds, where I met a young woman almost dressed like a gypsy, with long black hair. Her skin was as pale gold as the full moon above us. We kissed. She tenderly rested her head on my young chest. As I undressed her with a lad’s trembling hands, I found that her small nose was echoed in her firm breasts. That her fine eyebrows was reflected in her intimate hair.
We had sex on the forest floor where she rode me while looking away, my hands on her cold feet as I skewered her and soon screamed my bliss in the moonlight. She felt like a dream and a mystical eruption. I never saw her again, ever, even though I took nearly daily walks there for six months afterward.
I skewer her! Like an African gladiator! A retiarius on his night before the fight, where he gets to fuck the daughter of a Patrician, a senator who paid a small fortune just to watch his daughter having sex with this dark-skin fighter. Riding his cock as she moans and gets the full benefit of her daddy’s money! While he caresses her feet that no slave is allowed to look at, let alone touch.
Nastya’s white ass marks her as a Queen of Hearts. As I hold her yielding flesh and let her moan and bounce herself on my lap, it feels as if I’m holding Russia in the palms of my hands. She is Romanov of Russia! Good to be fucked! By an African gladiator!
My erection is stiff inside her. Pressed by all sides. My hands love the baby fat on her butt! Just like her face! Perfect to take peasant cocks and get ejaculated on! Her feet now in my hands! Then I return to holding her Queen of Hearts butt. I hold all of her! All of old Russia as I scream my bliss and shamelessly fill her up!
“AAAAHH AAH AH DDAAA–NASTYA-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”
I want to hold her in my arms and kiss her. But I’m alone.
The weeks have passed by. November came and went with the first snows. Mortar shells. Losses. Some cases of a nasty kind of flu. Officers lost to snipers. Nurses very busy with the victims of failed assaults. The British holding this position are so determined! Barely two hundred left of them, but they’re keeping us stranded here near Birsk. The men vent their frustration by turning on the town’s women, who are kept in Birsk’s half-destroyed homes where they keep gang-raping them nearly every night.
Less than half of these women are still alive. The nurses are overworked. Venereal disease run rampant among our men.
My requests for leave keep being denied. Officially, I’m still a Captain gone missing and my wife remains in limbo. Request denied, yet again! I wrote her several times, but will my letters reach her? For some reason, the Soviet authorities won’t acknowledge I’m the same Ivan Sidorov who went missing last spring when the White Army captured the train I was on. Through this curious twist of fate, I’m now a Major in a Czech Division gone Red.
Near Christmas time, a Lithuanian regiment came and camped with us on their way to the frontline that crept further east, at a snail’s pace.
“Buckaroo! Buckaroo!” some of them yelled as they recognized me. I recognized some faces, especially the stocky bearded musician. I shook hands with as many of them as I could. I met and hugged Kürschner, who brought me the sad news. Petia had been killed last month before the regiment was sent here as part of reinforcements for the Siberian front. Kürschner was a Major now, in command of the regiment’s first battalion. He had no idea of where my former men from the inner guard might be now.
We walked toward my shelter to drink and celebrate, when this head nurse was passing us by. She was by herself.
“Would you like a drink?” I offered.
Mina quickly looked all around her, like a child afraid of getting caught doing something wrong, and then she quickly followed us into my shelter, kept warm by the lantern and the presence of Bilguun. It would quickly warm up now as there were three of us and her. We talked. I was pleased by Mina’s fast progress in Russian.
“What’s your name again, lovely British lady?”
“Mina. Mina Harker. I’m from Whitby.”
Bilguun nodded and smiled at her as he motioned her to a chair at a table. Her eyes exploded in fear as she saw his high cheekbones and the copper tone of his skin. Fear mixed with high excitement.
We organically responded to her excitement by coming closer, all three of us, even Bilguun. She looked at us with even more excitement, mixed with fear. She was about to flee, or perhaps not.
We were now so close we began stroking her long black hair and her breathing was racing. Her dark eyes looking at all three of us in fast circles. She said something in English that ended with “not”. I took it to mean “niet”. But I was already kissing her hair and my hand landed on her hip where I felt her fire through her lavender-blue dress that had been repaired. Kurschner was kissing her! She faced him, and I began to caress her backside, then felt the firmness of her butt!
She seemed to dance amid us. Bilguun hesitated, then his hands reached her waist and tenderly began a tour upon her legs while Kurschner was still kissing her while I pressed myself against her and cupped her tits from behind. Through her Red Cross apron.
I had always dreamed of doing this to a young nurse. Touching her breasts through her Red Cross apron. I felt her buttocks against my crotch. She seemed to dance in our midst where she sure felt my erection through my uniform and hers.
Mina sank down on her knees. Before I knew it, she had freed Shurbert and took his cock inside her mouth! He grunted. His overstretched features told me how great it felt inside her mouth! We all caressed her hair as she bobbed along my friend’s cock, giving it an English spit-polish!
She turned to Bilguun and did likewise. She looked at his light-brown sausage as if in a deep trance. Then she kissed it. Once. Twice and engulfed it. Just like that, she took Bilguun deep inside her mouth, throat deep as she seemed to play her entire existence on how deep and fast she could suck him. Bilguun’s moans filled the shelter. Even the lantern seemed to tremble with the joy of its golden light. We kept caressing her hair while she often licked Bilguun’s entire length as her fingers played an agile tune around his Asian rod, and then she’d return to her full-blown mouth job.
Until Bilguun blew up with a “HHHHHHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNHHH!” In her face. Like a geyser! He held his exploding cock to her offered face and moaned like a dying man as she took his load with her mouth wide open!
I turned her toward me and began to unbutton the front of her dress. With our three pairs of hands upon her and undoing her outfit, she looked at me with a sort of madness in her eyes. I bared her supple corset and we completely pulled her blue dress down from her arms and let it fall down her feet. With feverish fingers I went behind her and tried to undo the cotton corset while Kürschner was kissing her bare shoulder and lowering her petticoat.
My fingers finally caught the knot and undid it. Her corset loosened and her petticoat fell.
I found myself sucking a pair of English breasts! They were perky with that soft firmness that makes a female bosom so pleasurable for a man’s hands. Her wine brown nipples punched my face with feather-light softness where her scent captured me. The aristocratic paleness of her skin rivaled Nastya’s. I did not look away from Mina’s tits and cleavage as I knew the young lady in white would be there, standing in a dark corner of my shelter. Disfigured. And jealous.
“An English woman!” I said as my thumbs made a journey where her flesh yielded and she moaned. I realized she was naked and my friends were worshiping the rest of her while my tongue tried to be one with her nipples, her fingers running through my thinning hair, and then I went lower. Kissed her navel and licked her skin all around it! Her hands following my greying head with their youth. She was moaning under our kissing assaults. Many women would sometimes dream about being alone with three men. Very few actually lived it.
Mina had a solid triangle of raven hair down there, so much like Sümeyye! I knew the Kazakhs had tasted her too and it aroused me without measure to picture her getting captured by the enemy cavalry and then forced out of her Red Cross apron, then out of her dignity.
I took long strokes of tongue across her English carpet while letting her scent rape my nostrils. I missed my wife. I felt guilty. Beyond measure, I enjoyed the improbable meeting between my tongue and her entrance.
“Aaah aaaaa aaaaaah yes! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me!” she said. Whatever that meant.
I decided to impersonate a Mongol leader who just captured a train filled with Europeans, and now enjoying the loot in the form of a white woman whose bare butt I was now kissing and pressing my face into!
I had turned her around. She let us bend her over the table and I tapped my stiff cock on her bottom, and then ordered Bilguun to take her shoes off. I never fuck a girl without her being barefoot. Kürschner was clearly waiting his turn as if he were still a Sergeant.
Bilguun knew he’d be last, although he had been first to give her semen. He grinned, his eyes pulled into her English nakedness as he freed her feet.
It was only when I saw her naked ankles and feet, where she stood bent over the table, that I penetrated her! I pretended to be a Mongol leader raping an English lady against a table in the train’s restaurant car while my men were the just cause of all young ladies on this Siberian Express to be screaming in terror as they felt the air hit their suddenly bared bosoms and buttocks between brigand’s hands, under grinning copper faces. Subjected to the eastern law of pure savagery!
The slug-fest began! I became pure joy as I repeatedly sank inside her, learning the line of shadow between her massively soft buttocks that I held in my hands, feeling the fullness of her flesh as I pictured all these English daughters and wives getting bucked by Mongols and filling the restaurant car with the same whimpers I was hearing from Mina Harker.
I took her hips and set her clock straight by slugging away against this paradise of an English ass! Her beauty inflated my cock against her gone-wild exertions!
“Now, Milady! Now you’re well furnished!” I bellowed while comforting her with my heated erection, my heated hand where her slender figure was somehow reflected through the surprising vastness of her butt cheeks. She was so white! My eyes saw her whiter because she was English.
She moaned and kept moving herself as to intensify her pleasure. And mine!
I close my eyes and let my hands feed my inner fantasy through her skin while I keep pounding her…
“Yes yes! The Mongols took the train! Found white ladies in it! Dresses got torn! Corsets got forced open and now! Now their vast white buttocks are soiled by yellow hands and grinning Asians learn how good it feels to fuck white girls! Everything’s gone crazy! The men are beat up. Women are raped! Daughters too! Anyone with a pussy who can sing high gets the ride! aahh yeah! Yess! Yesss! Yes yes yesss! AAAHHH YEAASSSSSS I CAN’T HELP IT! nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn nNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!”
I pound Mina as long as I can, erupting inside her like a fury of heat! Until pleasure becomes too painful and I have to stop. Sudden guilt takes hold of me as I realize how evil I am. Nastya’s there, her white dress there in the shadow, with her nightmare face as bloody as a mess of crushed strawberries with her nose missing and one eye sticking out and down. This is the bride I deserve. Nay, I don’t even deserve dirt.
Always on bent over the table, Mina uses her hand and begins finishing herself, but Kürschner takes my spot and urgently penetrates her. He catches her wrists and fucks her while holding her hands together in the small of her back, as if to punish her, while she moans like a bitch where her face kisses the tabletop, her head covered with her all-night hair while Kürschner keeps saying a Countess is the best woman to fuck!
I begin to masturbate at the sight of Mina in this position. The litany of her high moans feeds my masturbation as she climaxes and Kürschner swears, “Good God! YeeaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAghgh nnjjjjjjjjjjgghh…”
Bilguun stands naked and has masturbated himself high and proud. His eyes nearly leap out of his face as the short man kindly nudges Mina back where she stands in front of him, where he takes advantage of his smaller size and fucks Mina from behind while holding her bottom where Asia meets England! I love this! His nervous hands on the white bounty of her ass! Where he still hesitates in his thrusts.
I pour and rub vodka on her impossible curves while she moves herself against the short man, back and forth, so she can feel him inside her. Her groans and whimpers tell us how nuch she craved for men.
“She’s all yours, Bilguun! Fuck her all you want! She loves this!” I say, patting him on the shoulder while his thrusts accelerate into a barrage that gets the head nurse moaning herself crazy, her long raven hair hanging down from her ever shaken head where the fuck motions cause a play of lantern light to take life in this hair. I look down at her legs and can’t believe this beauty is ours for the whole night! I’m afraid we may run out of vodka.
“Aaa aaaah aaaah aahhh so strong! Fuck! Aaah aaaah aaaah fuck so strong aaaaah aaaah aaaaaaaa aaaaaaaa aaaaa don’t stop I’m a tramp-aaaahh aaaaaa AAAA AAAAA AAAAAAAAAAA…”
That was all she could say. Bilguun found her wrists and gave her the steppe’s law by using her arms like reins. He kept pulling her arms. She kept moving herself against him as she went off in a crazy-moaning orgasm while her butt went into a buffeting frenzy against Bilguun, who began moaning as if under torture. The eastern man was exploding inside Mina! “Aaaah aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh…”
***
Letter from Major Sidorov to his wife, whom he calls Sofia to protect her exotic character from Soviet eyes
Dear Sofia, I hope you’re well. I’ve gone missing in action. You must think you lost me for ever. I’m still here. Still fighting for our cause. For the people in power. I think about you every day. I can’t wait to see you again. My feelings for you have only grown stronger since we first met so long ago. The other day we had olives in our supplies and I couldn’t touch them! They remind me too much of you. You will never grow old in my heart.
Ivan
(The letter never reached her.)
The long-winded moan of a man filled a cold apartment in St. Petersburg now Petrograd.
“AAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAA AAAA AAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”
Sümeyye was naked, down on all fours, and surrounded by men from the Red Army. Drunk soldiers. One of them just finished enjoying his turn where he tried to keep her pale olive butt against him as he gave the pregnant girl the comfort of his cock. This while her face was kept up where her mouth was filled with a proletarian’s cock. They kept letting her know that being pregnant was no excuse for neglecting her duties to the Soviet.
“Wow! She has Russia’s most wonderful butt! I’m hard again!”
“Me too, Petrovski! Try her with her legs up!”
“Good heavens! She almost looks too young to be a wife! It’s like fucking a school girl!” said a Corporal as he pulled his trousers back up after the incredible ejaculation.
The young Kommissar had told them she was an officer’s wife. The wife of an officer who had betrayed the Soviet. “This means you can do anything you want with her! What about the other girl living with her? Too bad for her! She ought to know better than living with a traitor’s wife!”
He was now drinking French cognac and smoking a cigar with his left hand, while watching the dozen men renew their exploits on and inside Sümeyye’s person.
They had brought her coal to heat her apartment, and a New Year tree with a cross. Another way to rape the Muslim girl along with her sister.
“We need to Christianize these Turkish tramps!” the Kommissar said with a voice that sounded more like a boy than a man.
Sibel was bent over the dinner table where she had been ruthlessly stripped by another bunch of soldiers who gave her no reason to feel neglected by their cocks. They laughed and did the usual vodka pouring on her, while asking her to tell them their fortune. Would they soon be happy enough to fuck a Turkish girl? The Kommissar had only masturbated above her and Christianized her face with his compliments of the season.
They knew they were sisters because they both look very much alike, especially down their hips where youth refused to leave. Such magnets of flesh that men couldn’t stop touching.
“Aahh yes yes yes yes yes! Yesss! It’s so good to be in the Soviet Army–AAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNHH G-GGGH-GGGjjGGGH!!!” voiced the soldier who had said he was hard again, as he dumped an insane amount of Bolshevik semen inside Sümeyye, after following his mate’s advice and taking the pregnant girl with her legs up on a sofa.
“Oh, you beautiful Turkish delight! Now suck my Christmas candy!” the Sergeant said under a thick brigand’s moustache. Sümeyye saw first hand how impressive his size was. She began licking it, her nostrils now well used to this sort of smell. Four more men came close and now the naked wife knelt by the sofa, taking the Sergeant’s full length while surrounded by young cocks. These Privates had no idea how old she was to them. None of them would willingly take a girl older than twenty or twenty-two, and yet they were more than happy to give Sümeyye their sperm to drink!
“Yeah! We’ll make them both dance naked for us and then kiss each other!” said the Corporal while eating one of the loukoums the housewife was forced to prepare for them (under supervision lest she tried to put some poison in the small sweet cubes).
“Now this is what I call a really good New Year’s Eve!”
***
Stefania, the eldest daughter of an ill-fated Italian merchant by the name of Joseppe Constantini, met the Lithuanians. So did her young sisters. While a brutally well-endowed Lithuanian tried to see if he could fit inside the youngest sister, while the in-between-sister was getting repeatedly taken amid a circle of vodka-drinking men who held her suspended amid them, Stefania was now enjoying the privilege of getting her bare feet kissed by this bear of a musician with a thick beard, a dark beard with strands of silver that sent shivering notes of violation where it brushed her sensitive skin and radiated through her core. This man was so old, so repulsive!
Stefania’s tits received the comments of the troops and were flooded with vodka as men took turns in enjoying them. They had never seen such a pretty face that seemed to smile even when she was crying. She was now.
The bearded musician smiled down on her while licking her feet, which was greatly facilitated by the fact she was kept on her back on a table with her legs up. Urged on by the others, the stout man produced his cock, causing Stefania’s eyes to open wide, and then he slobbered it, said something in his language and penetrated her! They all cheered and someone poured vodka in her face as the bear of a man took her thighs and furthered his violations, his eyes wide in shock, his beard nearly exploding out of his gross face upon feeling how great it feels inside this young lady.
With her wide-apart legs brushing his sides, Stefania looked even prettier as she closed her eyes and took the pounding, her head bobbing along with her long dark hair as her tits jiggled along with the beastly thrusts she was getting from the big musician, who promised to sing Вечерний звон (Vechernii Zvon) for her because she gave him so much joy.
“Look at her tits! Yes, she’s sixteen. The one who told me didn’t lie!”
“Yes, Benas. She’s worth going all the way from Vilnius and fighting our way through half of Siberia to have her!”
The entire table trembled from the musician’s assaults while Stefania, eyes closed and fists clenched where they held her wrists while kissing her face, emitted sharp wailing whimpers that followed the rhythm of this wild ramming. The men could tell she was trying to relax and was used to get treated like that.
The entire shack trembled when the stout man erupted in a despaired moan that sounded like a sick bear. He flooded Stefania with sperm. Kissing her lovely little feet as he finished having her legs up on the sturdy table. He was followed by many other men. An entire squad of Lithuanians paid homage to the lovely Italian strumpet. They all agreed that sixteen was the ideal age for a prostitute–Not too young, and yet a body that was firm and pleasing to hold.
Stefania’s blonde sister put sunlight in their eyes. She was blonde everywhere and had a very tight pussy. Major Sidorov was there on this occasion. His hands landed on the blonde’s taut buttocks. She was immorally young, and this was why Ivan was so wicked hard! He got lost in the contemplation of her heels where she sat with her legs folded under her, where the sensuality of her boyish curves stole the show. Her feet alone invited men to give her their sperm, for she was a young woman on this occasion, and she had tits. Small, but there. With tabs for nipples that indeed said she was a fuckable woman.
Ivan nudged her into getting on all fours. The damsel obeyed and he was soon inside her after generously slobbering his evil rod. The forty-something Major raped her without any restraint, his mouth wide open and letting out frothing slobber as he mounted the little Constantini sister from Belyyfontan. He offered her a steady pounding and gave her some time to know him better and get more comfortable. But she kept crying and wailing.
Fully bent upon her, Ivan found her tiny breasts under her and he pressed himself on her like a sweating clam, nude on nude, as he kept ravishing her with wicked pelvic thrusts and his heat got out of hand and he yelled his bliss while calling her “Young lady!”
He couldn’t believe the prodigious load he spewed inside her!
Fanny was there too. She didn’t have anything on her that would show she was an adventuress and a pilot. Fanny was naked. Laughing men kept her kneeling on a cushion chair with her butt offered in a wide display of Yankee splendour!
Now she knew what Lithuanian men felt like inside her. They were more brutal than gentle. Her head was aching from the relentless bobbing. She had lost count of the men who mounted her dog-style on this chair, mercifully cushioned with a fine leather, pillaged from a well-off house in Birsk whose walls were now echoing with the gang-rapes of rich daughters who had fallen into ill-fortune. This leather chair reminded Fanny of home. Her father was fond of leather, from horse saddles to sporting gloves.
“She’s American! Yes, American! That’s what they say!” a Lithuanian officer told his fellow Lieutenant as he enjoyed Fanny and the soft wideness of her curves, holding her in that same spot where she used to sit in her biplane that she often used to strafe soldiers, soldiers who had turned on her the moment she became defenseless. They had pulled her boots and freed her feet to rub their cocks on them. They had stripped her out of her American flight jacket of Kansas leather and shredded her Russian tunic. Now she had nothing and a Lithuanian officer yelled his delight and gave her his spunk where she remained kneeling on a chair with her curves free to have.
“OK. I can handle this!” Fanny told herself as the second officer took his round of delight inside her. Her buttocks were wide and strong enough to take many suitors. “Yes, I can handle this. Father will never know…”
She received the officer’s sludge no problem.
Then came the officers’ orderlies. Two black boys the officers had perhaps found in some Turkish market, although slavery had been abolished in Russia under Peter the Great.
Fanny screamed in terrified panic upon seeing them! It took four men to keep her in place on the leather chair! Her screams filled the crowded shack! The negroes freed their cocks while smiling at her with white teeth. The Yankee adventuress understood that Asian men were all right in comparison.
“Noooo! Please noooo! Lemme go! Lemme goo!”
Her English was met with deaf ears and loud laughter as the boys approached and the taller one went first. Fanny shrieked and broke her voice when he smiled and tapped his slugger on her snow-white butt.
When the negro raped her, Fanny shrieked as if he were pouring melted iron inside her! His dark stick proved her theory wrong. Her theory was that sex between a white lady and a negro was unthinkable, that it just couldn’t happen. She had seen the movie The Birth Of A Nation when it came out three years ago and had felt positively horrified when a uniformed negro tried to rape a white girl! What a relief when the Ku Klux Klan rode and saved the day! And prevented the mass rape of a pretty brunette.
What a relief when the taller boy relieved himself inside the Yankee girl! “HaaaYYYYYYYUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNGGHH!!!”
The second boy lost no time and made her feel the dark strength of his hands as he comforted her pussy with his rod of power! Fanny kept screaming and whimpering while the slugfest went on and she felt how much bigger he was while vodka got poured on her white ass.
“Uuhh uhh uhh uuhh uuhh uhh…”
The shorter boy sounded like a rutting donkey as he raped Fanny, who deeply regretted her adventurous life. She should have settled down back home in Kansas!
But then the boy pulled out of her before he was finished. He switched holes!
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA NNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” The rancher’s daughter shrieked as her rectum got distended by what felt like a black horseshoe! His hands on her pale hips, the negro ravaged Fanny’s chimney where she knelt on that leather cushion chair that reminded her of her father. The taller negro took fun in slapping her face with his flaccid cock from the opposite side while her anus was getting niggered!
“Uuhh uhh uhh uuhh uuhh uhh…” The same donkey tune, just more urgent as Fanny takes the deep thrusts that kills her every second. She should never have left home!
With the loud man’s relief came Fanny’s own relief as she soon found herself empty, but not before the negro’s heat gave her lower intestines something to think about–his sperm. A nigger’s slugger can indeed get inside a white girl.
Fanny shook her head and cried, defying the truth as she screamed, “No! This can’t be!” She was so agitated that she even forgot to say “This cannot be” in her usual glamorous English. The negro’s sauce made her more authentic.
“Don’t worry, Yankee girl!” said a man in Russian, a grey-bearded man dressed like a Soviet officer, as he pushed his cock onto her face and inside her ajar mouth. This was the Brigade General himself. The former Sergeant-Major who had led the mutiny now took a reward inside Fanny’s mouth. He enjoyed his throbbing rod against her tongue and palate as he held her head and raped her face without restraint!
Until he blissfully erupted and Fanny had to swallow a hefty helping of Czech semen. She never really got used to the taste.
At present, the stout musician is singing Vecherny Zvon with his baritone voice, while naked and lying on his side, with Stefania lying down on her back where her bent legs are resting on him and her vulva is in line with his monkey stick. He doesn’t miss a note of his song when the penetration occurs. His hands on her waist fill her with mixed feelings as the encounter follows its natural course and she gets gently rocked with her ever-moving tits offering a view that money can’t buy. More vodka poured on them as a bugle boy begins to suck them. She seems to smile as she closes her eyes and another boy ejaculates on her heavenly face.
Ivan watches and likes the position. Stefania has legs and feet to die for! Ivan finishes his vodka bottle and half-drunk, he masturbates until he’s hard. Then he spots the in-between sister, a girl with long jet-black hair. He grabs her and kindly asks her to lie down on her back and founds her scared and obedient. Then he lies himself down on his side, where the girl’s legs are soon resting over his hip as he finds her tiny hole and begins to strain against her slit.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!” he moans as he finally penetrates the damsel. She looks a bit too young for this! She’s still almost a child, at any rate a very young damsel barely five feet tall. How evil can he get? She further bends her legs and rests her tiny feet on his hip, seeming to mind very much about being comfortable in her misfortune. The sight of her feet, and their feel on him, turn him into a beast who knows no more boundaries.
As the gentle pounding begins, her small breasts begin to silently sing a song, back and forth where her insolent little nipples get Ivan even wilder. He accelerates in a fury of urgent thrusts, despaired for life where his world gets filled by her damsel’s feet on him, the velvet black of her hair, her fine eyebrows where she takes the punishment while in tears, and the insolence of her breasts perky enough to jiggle.
The ejaculation comes like a geyser. So wonderful it’s painful. Ivan screams as he dumps a monstrous load inside the small girl. Such power in her feet and ankles. Such insolence in her raised nipples… Ivan knows he’s going to hell when he’ll die. He thinks too much with his cock.
***
That same night called Christmas Eve in England, a group of drunkard soldiers have managed to kidnap two nurses. They dragged them in the corner of a far trench where they silently rape them. Pregnant and on the verge of vomiting again, Judith keeps a bitter face as each man has her while keeping a hand pressed on her mouth. They take her veil off and keep her back to the trench wall. Her dress gets pushed up to her waist and a knife persuades her to widen her legs for them. Each man slobbers and kisses her angel’s face as he relieves himself inside her.
Catherine gets shoved down her knees into the cold mud. They pull her whole outfit down her waist and then down her legs where her buttocks offer an unreal view in the still of the night. One man has a knife at her throat and she remains silent while the handful of men take their turns from behind. It’s a silent, quick rape woven in muffled whimpers that get answered by grunts that the men try to keep low. The falling snow helps covering their crime.
Inside a richer house in Birsk, the Lithuanian Colonel and two senior officers have their hands on a lawyer’s daughter, whom they have urgently stripped naked while the walls echoed with the screams and begging of her young sisters where soldiers took over the house and are now throwing a fuck party.
The Colonel from Vilnius is a grave man with high morals, much admired in his home city. He has always shown restraint, even in the face of death, but now that heavy snow is falling outside, echoing the growing white in his temples, he is reminded of the passing years and has given in. He has found a desk of massive oak in the father’s library, and this dignified desk happens to be just the right height.
Thus the naked daughter gets lied down on it and the fifty-something Colonel learns what it truly means to occupy a town where he has absolute power. He does what he’s always fantasized of doing in a dark corner of his soul, ashamed of these thoughts. He runs his hands all over the adolescent daughter while her sisters are screaming their life out amid the orgy of enlisted men elsewhere in the mansion.
“Young lady! At last! At last!” he bellows in a tongue she understands nothing of as he grabs her tits and feels her scared nipples in the palms of his hands. With the Majors watching, the dignified Colonel sucks her tits and enjoys this violation of all these rules he normally believes in. He gets her legs up where the gathering of her bare feet shows him he can do this every night if he so chooses.
His cock grows young inside his trousers, which he pushes down while one of the middle-aged Majors laughs and fingers the sobbing girl while the other officer holds her in place with her legs up, their depraved gazes violating those legs and feet society do not want them to see. All three men have turned into satyrs who will only speak with their cock.
The Colonel’s grunting yell speaks enough for itself when he invades the young lady and her entrance closes upon him as she yelps in pain and shock. She’s deflowered! The regimental commander finds her wet and it slides well. The pressure is insane! So this is how it feels inside a young damsel! The youngest woman he ever had before was his wife, who was twenty-five on their wedding night thirty years ago. The damsel’s hoovering feet near his face remind him of his wife, strangely enough, because feet is a bodypart that doesn’t age very much.
But her legs are unmistakably young.
“Be a good girl, ahh! Ahh yes! Be a good girl and we’ll give you hot-aah! Hot chai a… after…” the dignified Colonel tells her in Russian amid his exertions. Yes, this oak table is just the right height!
The exchange ends up in a grunting event where the gone-mad officer is bent over her and holds her waist as he dominates her ever-moving breasts, her nipples warm brown and filled with life on top of dancing knolls of virgin skin! His gone-young cock bursts and makes her a woman with the heat of his sperm.
Downstairs, her two baby sisters are being made into women too, many times over, by Soviet Lithuanians who have beaten up her elder brother and her father, and now both men have to watch in horror. Her dignified mother was stripped out of her haughty dress and now she’s used for sodomy. The Devil has taken over her house.
Then the Majors both take their pleasure inside the young woman, where they have moved her around so her buttocks get used as a soft buffer for their exertions. They call her a Czarist because her skin is so white! She needs to be Bolshevized and they’re happy to do this for her. They could have had a quiet night as befits men of their years, but here they are, exerting themselves, nay straining themselves like horny young men. They made this sacrifice for her!
“I hope yer enjoying this–UUUUUUUUGGHH!!!”
“Isn’t she pretty with her long chestnut hair?” the Colonel says. “Looks much better loose! I hate those high buns!”
Her ignorance of Lithuanian spares her the mortification carried by their words. Bent over with her cheek sliding on her father’s library table, the damsel takes one enemy load after the other. She wonders. Why is the Czar losing if God is on his side?
***
Major Sidorov’s Thoughts — Two days earlier
Seeing Bilguun mounting Mina like a horny brigand made me hard again. My joy was unfathomable as I renewed the experience of mounting her dog-style, in this usual position that men from the east love so much. I just loved to watch her English buns pay respect to me. To us on this 22nd of December. She was war booty and I felt it in every fibre of my evil being!
I didn’t deserve Sümeyye. This was why they kept rejecting my requests for a leave. The Soviet kept denying my own identity! Now I only existed as a nameless Major in the Czech Legion! In a mutinied Division whose status was beyond murky. Soviet, but on the verge of mutinying back to the Czarists, until the Lithuanians arrived as reinforcements and a purge had taken place where the British garrison was no doubt astonished to see us execute more than a hundred of our own men by firing squad.
The one reality left for me was to fuck. To fuck and live while being called a rapist in my head all day long. All night long. There was no escape from that ghost voice unless I was in high bliss, unless Nastya was suddenly there, then vanished. I closed my eyes out of fear of seeing her. The disfigured Nastya, who would often appear as such when I was with a living woman. Nastya was a jealous ghost. She turned my orgies into a nightmare. Every time. Then I thought of her butt! So white! Her feet! So dainty! And the fact she used to be a Grand Duchess.
I kept looking down at Mina’s butt where we kept meeting amid her whimpering moans.
My cock lied to me by being so much younger than me as it burst deep inside her curves, my fingers sinking into her soft England while she mumbled something about something called Whitby and she spoke in crude Czech to thank me for my load and she felt this was well organized.
Major Kürschner took over. We fucked her all night long. She would lick and suck us clean. Once, I forgot to close my eyes and the disfigured white lady was right there. I turned pale.
“Why, Ivan, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Kürschner told me, grinning.
Nastya was already gone.
***
As a staff officer, I was there when our Brigade General met the enemy commander along with two British Captains, one who looked glamorous with a refined moustache only a British would wear; the other a nondescript middle-aged officer who spoke Russian and acted as the translator. The enemy commander was a Major who looked like a boy who had stumbled into his father’s uniform and decided to wear it. His voice sounded just as boyish. And yet, this was the commander who had been resisting us for over two months with only two hundred men!
This was Christmas Eve, or rather late afternoon. Snow was falling on Ural’s grand landscape of pine-covered hills. Everything was a grey silence of various tones. Dark trees. White snow. White sky. And the white lady in my head. “Rapist!”
Somewhere in the southwest, some clouds had gone alive in soft orange, as if England was trying to offer a comforting bowl of hot punch to her besieged sons, but the distance was too great. The theme remained steel grey.
The middle-aged Captain translated our offer of surrender with military honours, meaning the men would be allowed to leave with their weapons and go East to join the rest of the White Army. Only one word came as the answer.
“Hike!”
Our General was startled. “Hike?! What does that mean? I’m very sorry, but we do not understand the Major’s answer!”
“I’ll be glad to repeat it,” said the middle-aged Captain. “The answer is hike!”
“Yes, yes, but what does it mean? Is it negative or positive?”
“I’m afraid that hike is strictly negative! It means be off, go away.”
Our young General became livid with rage and said, “We’re going to kill you all and rape your women!”
The Major smiled as the words were translated for him.
“Our men are ready to die for the King and we do not have any women,” came the reply. The boyish-looking Major added something when we all exchanged a rigid salute.
“The Major wishes you the compliments of the season!”
Then we knew this was going to be a long winter. The English soldiers were tougher than Napoleon’s army.
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