Oleg was just picking up his son's Tokarev pistol on the sideboard near the entry hall when a yelling squad of Congolese soldiers found his door open and rushed inside!
An incredibly colossal soldier wrestled the pistol out of his hand and playfully pushed him against the wall, strong enough to crack the plaster wall and slam him half-unconscious, and then his soul was nuked as the suite was filled with Katyusha's and Magda's shrieks, for the squad of savages had found them in the teenager's bedroom.
Magda screams so loud that her voice breaks and and goes husky and her world shatters to a chaos of shards as she finds her wrists imprisoned in the grip of jungle men; they're apes to her. Katyusha shrieks even shriller as her mind shuts down and she refuses to believe this is happening, as stern-faced Negroes silently press themselves around her and firmly restrain her arms, their busy hands sliding under her skirt and violating her pristine legs right away.
"Shove the older one on that bed!" the leader barked at the pair of Negroes holding Magda. "We'll take the young one with us!"
"I forbid you!" Magda yelled at the top of her huskier voice as both Privates lifted her and dumped her on Katyusha's bed.
"I FORBID YOU!" she yelled again as they frantically tore that black fancy dress Oleg had bought her in Moscow just before watching the new lifting sensation called Yuri Vlasov win the 1958 nationals and get a personal handshake from Nikita Khrushchev himself.
"I FORBID YOU!" Those jungle hands were like shadow blurs, four hands that killed her dignity, by ripping and tearing her dress and baring her bra before snapping in broken and getting rid of her white panties, uncovering her jet-black cunt and drowning her in moral filth as they smiled down on her and noticed those bedposts.
"This bed will be perfect to bind her. I've got some rope. We can use her belt and her clothes too."
"What is she yelling? Do you know any Russian, Aristide?"
"Doesn't matter. She's just a Soviet bitch!"
"NIIIIEEEET! NIEEET! PREKRATITE! DYADYA! DYADYAAAAAAAHH NIEEEEET!" Katyusha shrieked as a pack of soldiers carried her away into the vast room where stood one large couch as well as a grandiose, massive dining table.
"KATYUSHA!!! DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HER, YOU MACAQUES OOWWWW... Diplomatic immun... Ooowwww! Owww! Oohww..."
"Shut up, daddy-o! Shut up and watch! See what we gonna do with your daughter!" one Private barked as he viciously kicked him in the face with his field boots after hitting him square in the jaw with the butt of his M24 rifle.
"Katyusha! Don't touch her, you macaques I'll OWWW! Owwww..."
"Shut the fuck up or I'll break your skull!"
"NNNHAAA AAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA PREKRA-TIIIITE PAJALSTAAAHH NAA HHAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA DYADYAAAAA!" (... Stop! Please! ... ... Uncle!)
"Aaahhhrrrrrrr!"
"Fuck! Look at her tits! Snow white!"
"Aahh, la salope blanche!" (Aahh, the white tramp!)
Katyusha shrieked her life out as they had her wriggling and jerking and writhing and trying to kick amid them, surprising the men around her by how much strength her small limbs could have. Her perky little breasts were freely jiggling in the gaping destruction of her royal-blue sweater and her bra was already gone, someone brandishing it, or rather what was left of it, as his keepsake; it looked like a torn white flag in his mud-brown hand. She could hear Magda shrieking in her bedroom.
"She's a real little tiger! I love it when they fight!"
"Don't worry, Red bitch! We just wanna suck your white tits and then fuck you real good! That's all we want from you!"
Katyusha had lost her thick-heel pumps as she lost her grip with reality and they kept her off her feet amid them while that savage was still taunting and hitting her "dyadya" while one Negro got his kissing mouth acquainted with those pale rosy-brown jujubes she had for nipples amid the delicate tumult of her flesh.
She jerked and screamed to a glass-breaking shrill as this man pressed his face on her right tit while another black hand cupped and pressed the other one. She was surrounded by those black faces that smiled even blacker with white teeth. It was a nightmare that had turned into a nightmare.
"All right, boys! Now that we've seen those white titties, lets bend her over this big table and boys, we have a party! By order of ranks!" the Corporal leading the squad ordered, looking at the open front door with fear in his eyes -- the fear of someone outranking him coming up and taking from him the privilege of deflowering the damsel, for she looked so pure and innocent with her royally long hair of night that she had to be like an untouched field of snow.
"Thierry! Close and lock that door! We ain't sharing this Red bitch with no one!"
As the Private ran to the door and locked it, and while Magda was now whimpering under a vicious pounding, Corporal Joseph Makélélé gave his orders with the voice of one who felt all-mighty from a very average height...
"You, hold her still with her face kissing that table, and you go next since you're the senior Private First Class, and each next man will hold her like that, yes, that's right, Laurent! Like Laurent's holding her right now, with her wrists together in front of that pretty face of hers and don't worry about her screaming. I love her voice! And Paul! Stop kicking her dad in the face and bring him here on that chair so he can watch us deflower his daughter, and now! Now girl! Now! Let's see this white ass of yours!"
Joseph had to speak real loud to cover the screaming and wailing from Katyusha and her dyadya's yelling and cursing as the soldier named Paul dragged Oleg and another man helped him in seating him on that chair where he had a great view on the unthinkable happening to his dear beloved Katyusha. They would soon tie him up properly to that chair with his hands behind him and his trousers pulled down so they could see whether he'd get hard or not. Small bets would be taken on this.
Oleg watches, unable to look away. Time slows down. Katyusha's calling him, "Dyadya! Dyadyaaa! Niet!" and she's begging them to stop, "Prekratite! Prekratite!" as she's kept flat on that table, her blue sweater destroyed, her half-naked back covered with the silk's silk of her hair as they hold both her wrists together in front of her, while the worst is about to happen behind her.
"HHRRRR!!!"
The Corporal's primal grunt detonates like a rifle shot as he grabs and pulls down Katyusha's skirt, brutally, before urgently ripping her white panties and revealing the most incredibly cock-stiffening butt any of them had ever seen as she screams so shrill and loud one of the soldiers looks at some wine glasses, thinking they might shatter any second, and all men present could swear it was her white butt screaming from being violated by their hungry gazes.
What was most peculiar about Katyusha's bum was its graceful roundness and the thinness of her butt crack, as if God didn't want her anatomy to look too earthly and vulgar. The spiritual grace of Katyusha's bum fed the earth-colored Congolese erections around her as half the men stripped themselves naked while the recruit was tasked with keeping the weapons safe in a corner of the room.
Then, Oleg's eyes grew wide with disbelief and he felt a wild jolt of shameful arousal. Corporal Joseph Makélélé had his tan trousers down, his erection jutting out, throbbing in his hand! And with an angry face, as he said, "Take my cock you little cheap Soviet tramp!" he pushed it against Katyusha's virginal entrance while his other hand black-claimed her snow-white ass as being the property of Congo's Force publique.
The Negro strained, and cursed, as he found that penetrating this shrieking daughter proved harder than expected.
Katyusha shrieked like a banshee and it took another man to keep her from escaping and hold her in place, face down on that massive table with her jerking arms together in front of her shaking head as she just shrieked and wailed!
All this while Joseph Makélélé spat in his hands three or four times, taking the epic example of Jupiter shaking his head three or four times before saying or doing something important. He thus put a generous coat of slobber on his weapon before resuming the international violation of diplomatic immunity.
It was so inconceivable a sight! Oleg was now crying like a baby while that gigantic soldier held the Tokarev and poked her pristine butt cheek with its barrel.
Corporal Makélélé pushed hard and forced her entrance!
His wiener did go between Katyusha's forbidden buttocks, her skin surreal in its whiteness thanks to the royal-blue debris of her sweater. He grabbed her slim waist and kept pushing! Advance! For Congo's Independence!
As the man got halfway inside, Katyusha let out one ultimate scream out of her innermost self.
"Grigory! Dyadya! I'm sorry!" she shouted as that brute holding her waist tortured her pussy by hammering himself deeper with his unfaltering efforts!
Joseph Makélélé's eyes widened as he felt his cock prodigiously expanding inside the Soviet girl. He kept ramming himself deeper, grunting like an absolute baboon while his men held her in place and cheered for him, some of them masturbating as they eagerly waited their turn.
The sobbing girl yelped sharply as something gave way within her and Joseph uttered one beast of a groan as he thrust his Kongo spear further down the path of victory and got right to the bottom of his diplomatic relations with the Soviet wench.
Corporal Joseph Makélélé looked at the ambassador and smiled at him, his throbbing cock deep inside Katyusha, whose shrill shrieks filled the entire suite, echoing against its nine-feet-tall walls.
"I'm gonna skin you alive!" Oleg shouted in Russian, forgetting his French amid his distress. After losing his first two wives and his sister, now THIS! Why didn't they just kill him and rape Katyusha on his dead body? On top of that, he couldn't but hear Madgda's pitiful whimpers from Katyusha's bedroom.
Joseph Makélélé enjoyed the priceless moment! He felt every fiber of her tight pussy that pressured him into the quick release of his precum. She was so tight and warm!
"She's a good fuck boys! Whooaa! This position works great! You're all gonna love her! Hrrr! Hrrrrrr! YEah! White bitch! Take your first Congolese stick!"
Those words from his Corporal only made his cheering men even eager to try out this bitch from the snowlands way up North.
Katyusha went silent and frozen as she realized this was happening for real. This baboon, this so-called man was now deep inside her! Hurting her so bad! But the worst was the sense of loss! She had planned to have sex with her uncle that very night, to give him her virginity, but now... Now! No hope! And Grigory... He was going to find her changed... And he won't marry her then!
Enduring the brutal punishment, feeling the rhythmic flattening of her buttocks against her tormentor, Katyusha bitterly cried as she felt the hard tabletop against her sliding cheek while those butt cheeks of hers were kept busy yielding under that ape's frantic hands as he taught her what it feels like to get pounded from behind. By angry Congolese soldiers.
Joseph Makélélé loved this! No more color line! No more colony! Just one cunt he was pounding with grunting vengeance! At last! At last! Oh, God! This was so much fun!
His grunting and his sense of elation were polluting her senses like pest! She now had the plague! No healing for her! Nothing but... She had no words for what she felt. She was brutally taken out of her life and brought to some place where all was evil and no laws existed. No laws except physics and mechanics.
Anything physically possible could happen, such as this Congolese man breeding with her!
As the brutal rape went on, Katyusha's gaze settled on a pricey chessboard adorning the top of a sideboard. The black pawns were there, and each of them seemed to be gazing at the white queen. And Katyusha felt as if caught in the aftermath of a real-life game of chess where the blacks had obliterated the whites and now those pawns of flesh and blood were celebrating by taking their turns inside the white queen. Herself! With their erections just as hard as that very chessboard.
The man inside her was now hurting the crease of her hips where he was holding her as he accelerated into a blur of snow-white skin, and Joseph failed to understand why exactly he was so fascinated by that girl who looked sickly pale, but whose pussy had such an incredibly strong effect on him! He was entering the realm where all he thought of was to fill up this little snob! And knew how ungodly satisfying this was going to be.
Corporal Joseph Makélélé was struck by a bolt of pure bliss where he felt weightless, and he did his utmost to keep pounding the Russian girl all through his ejaculation. Angry bolts of hot jism shot out of his throbbing cock and got lost inside her obliterated virtue while she bitterly sobbed as he filled her up with frothing slobber dripping down his wide open mouth that echoed his wide-open eyes and raised eyebrows.
Neither Oleg nor Katyusha would ever forget the gross, soul-crushing series of low-pitched moans uttered by that uniformed Negro as he pushed his lap against her butt and relieved himself, shouting his unfathomable relief as he ruined the ambassador's daughter...
"Oaaaahh! Oaaah oooaaa aaaa aaaaaaaaaahhh... Aaaahhh yeeeeaaaaahhhh we won!!!"
Joseph fell down on his knees, his legs like water, and as he found himself face to butt with Katyusha, he grabbed those buns and licked them all over like there was no tomorrow, with the Soviet girl sobbing deep and loud as the semen began spilling out of her pussy.
This felt so God-damned good! He couldn't believe it! He must have lost a gallon of cum inside her! He pushed her white buttocks with both hands and looked at her slit under her pink anal bud -- cum was dripping out of her cunt, amid the erotic world of her peachy white ass, as she bitterly sobbed. A lot! He had a lot!
Under the crushing elephant of shame she was under, Katyusha felt beyond indignant against her fate. This had no right to happen under the sun! But this wasn't happening under the sun; it was happening at the Memling hotel on the seventh floor. Downtown in a civilized city. But was there such thing as a civilized city in Congo? A republic of bananas where those offensive erections did indeed look like chocolate bananas in the hands of devil-smiling men that seemed to be made of dark mud. She hated this shit-hole!
TO BE CONTINUED.
The Quarter Final of the Ravished in a Flash Tournament has begun. Please rate the stories after reading them using the thumbs up button. The rating of a story determines the match winner.
Mutiny In Léopoldville
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HistBuff
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HistBuff
- Sophomore
- Posts: 44
- Joined: Sat Apr 05, 2025 12:53 am
- Reputation: 29
Re: Mutiny In Léopoldville
The Memling's seventh floor was now entirely overrun by the angry and horny mutineers, all of them on a mission to give an authentic feel and taste of Congolese cock to each and every woman in the Soviet delegation.
Tatiana didn't get very far as she ran through the crowded hallway where all hell was breaking loose where tan-uniformed, rifle-wielding Negroes chased the women and clubbed the men with the brown devil of the unspeakable in their face. Soon enough, she was spotted.
As she aimed her Tokarev at one of those brown brutes at close range, Tatiana suddenly learned that strafing troops when piloting a plane was one thing, and shooting a man looking at you from only four yards was another thing. Her trembling hand refused to pull the trigger. It also needed to be said that two of these brave brown comrades were pointing their rifle at her and she liked to live... even in the face of "a fate worse than death".
The first man was on her, grabbing her wrist, and then more men surrounded her. Catcalls! Jeers! She had no idea what those apes were saying as they lifted her off her feet, but from the way they made her scream as they groped her, she could guess pretty good what they must be saying. One undid her hair and it fell on her shoulders like a cascade that hinted to a golden bush between her legs. That same man pulled her hair and taught her her first words of French...
"Allez, salope!"
He pulled hard and it hurt. She heard, "allee salopp" and she gathered enough of context to deduce he was probably calling her a "suka", the Russian for "tramp" or "bitch".
They took her to a relatively quieter place where the hallway turned a corner of the building.
That's where the curvy Mig fighter pilot found herself surrounded and restrained by the pack of Kongo mutineers, and facing a man who wasn't specially tall or burly, but whose face and the way he frowned his eyebrows marked him as the leader.
She spat on his face!
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her as if the outcome of a war depended on how hard he shook her. She whimpered as her head shook like a blur of golden hair along with the rest of her.
"So you wanted to send troops here to pacify us, did you? Well now it is you who's gonna get PACIFIED! Hnnrrh rrrrhh!"
He kept furiously shaking her like a shrub in a hurricane, while she kept pitifully whimpering and begging him to please stop. But he didn't understand a word of Russian and neither did she understand French.
"You! Gimme her pistol!"
"Yes Sergeant! Right away!"
"Now, beautiful, let me introduce myself since we're going to spend a lot of lovely hours together. I'm First Sergeant Marc Gizenga and I respectfully salute your shit country!"
And on this he slapped Tatiana with her own Tokarev! She yelped as her head sort of bounced sideways. Groggy, she would have lost her balance if she had not been restrained by those brown grinning boys.
"Noo... Please... Stop this..."
"Whatever you're saying, baby-doll, we're gonna fuck you 'till our cum oozes out of your eyes and ears!" Marc Gizenga said in her face as he gently caressed her uniformed bosom with the barrel of her gun, taking his time and going really slow as the tip of her Tokarev quietly traveled down the brass buttons of her spruce-green jacket, while some jungle-black hands were caressing her shoulder pads and making a mockery of her rank.
"Look at those sky blue stripes on her shoulders! They match her eyes. Ain't she pretty?" commented a Corporal restraining her arms behind her back.
"She looks really sexy without her hat!" said a Private.
"I can't wait to buck and jungle-shake her!" added another.
Tatiana had a sudden burst of jerking motions, but she failed in her attempt and pitifully bawled, tears flowing down her Black-Sea blue eyes.
"Nieet! Niet! You have no right! I have my diplomatic immunity! I have nothing against you! Please just let me go I won't say anything!"
Seeing her yapper open, the First Sergeant shoved the barrel of her Tokarev in it and he began to move it back and forth inside her mouth.
"Taste this, bitch!" he said as he made the Lieutenant-Colonel suck her own service pistol. "Give it a nice spit-polish! Give it all your love! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" her tormentor added.
There was nothing she could do! She felt so powerless! The cold steel was insistently pushed and pulled against her tongue and palate. She had her arms firmly restrained behind her with a bunch of hands groping her tits, her butt and her legs -- They were violating the Kremlin by violating her uniform. Dreaming she were the pilot of a plane carrying a bomb to nuke this shit-hole of a city, Lieutenant-Colonel Tatiana Kutuzov sucked the pistol on, her pistol, tears flowing down her fair-blush cheeks with an Egypt plague of horror in her heart as she knew for a fact that those men, from the leader to the last of them, were about to gang-rape her.
As if she needed confirmation of this, Tatiana heard the screams and lamentations of women being railed, one of them the nurse, Ilsa, right there on the hallway floor, with her white uniform wide open on the jiggling play of her tits as three or four smiling Negroes kept her pinned under them and quickly took their turns on top of her.
Tatiana's distressed mind tried and failed to calm down in a panic search for a way out of this. There was none.
"And the nightmare is just beginning, sweetheart! Now I'm hard and it's time for you to get your first Congolese cock," Marc Gizenga bellowed as he unzipped his desert-tan trousers and produced his astonishing size.
Tatiana screamed in absolute horror as she saw this thing from dark Africa! An absolute snake with its ugly head and she could even smell its offensive stench from right where she stood, restrained, with her arms painfully pulled behind her by that Corporal who kept kissing and licking her face!
She watched as their leader masturbated in front of her, and much like a sparrow hypnotized by a snake, Tatiana just couldn't help it; she couldn't look away from that dark veiny thing that was now being coated with slobber. How was this huge thing going to enter inside her?
"All right boys, bend her over and hold her still! The First Corporal goes after me, and then the rest of you by order of seniority! Let's show those Soviets that the Congolese Force publique also follows the time-old laws of war!"
As he said this, First Sergeant Gizenga felt as if he were eighteen again and a Private! He had fought the Italians in Ethiopia in the Belgo-Congolese army who won the Siege of Saïo in early July 1941. He and others had gang-raped a beautiful Italian nurse when his unit stormed an enemy brigade headquarters and began looting and pillaging everything including the field hospital, where a group of nurses were found, all between 20 and 25 years old. It had been so much fun!
As he looked at his men positioning that Soviet bitch for him, he clearly remembered being one of the young soldiers in the very act of positioning that brunette for their Sergeant to be the first to deflower her, as the Roman girl kept screaming -- in French -- that she was a virgin.
"Je suis vierge! Je suis vierge! Pour l'amour de Dieu, épargnez-moi, non!" (I'm a virgin! I'm a virgin! For the love of God, spare me, no!)
Perhaps she was half French after all. He never knew her name. Did she fall pregnant after? Does he have a child without knowing?
The Italian nurse and the Soviet she-officer both wailed and cried the same, one in his mind, the other right there. The same shock and horror in their eyes as grinning men restrained and groped them.
As soon as she was bent-over and firmly restrained after two desperate attempts at escaping, Tatiana felt the sharp pull at her waist where they urgently lowered her spruce-green trousers and bunched them down knee-height against her long boots.
Then, First Sergeant Marc Gizenga enjoyed this last fleeting moment where he saw her panties -- purple -- and noticed the full curves of her juicy buttocks as she cried and wailed like a lost child where a couple of soldiers were "comforting" her by stroking her hair and slapping their cocks against her face.
In a loud explosion of ripping joy, he destroyed those purple panties and her Soviet bum materialized! Medium complexion that spoke of perhaps a touch of nude sunbathing, perhaps on a beach in Odessa. Or it could just be her ancestry, where perhaps some darker Turkish blood got inseminated, or some gang-rape done by Mongols a long long time ago, with a resulting baby who found his/her way in her ancestry.
With unfathomable elation, Marc Gizenga tapped this European bottom with his gigantic phallus, the same way he had done to that Italian nurse whose skin had a similar haze of cream white. It was so awesome to feel the final stiffening of his branch against her baby-soft bum curves! Right next to that mind-boggling crack with clear hints of her cunt.
Except this time, there was no superior to tell him to get it done quick. He was the boss now!
And with a paroxysm of elation, the Congolese platoon Sergeant uttered a wild and long-winded yell of victory as he brutally shoved his well-slobbered cock inside the whimpering bitch, and he grabbed the wonderful crease of her hips and then went to town with an unrestrained barrage of thrusts!
He pounded the Soviet girl exactly like he did for that Mussolini girl two decades before. No mercy! No mercy for communists! No mercy for fascism! He put his cock on the line of duty and gave the girl something to remember with his mighty strokes serving democracy.
"Oh boy! She's a really good fuck, boys!" he told his men, using the very same words his now-dead Sergeant did when he was the first inside that Italian as she screamed her life out and begged them to spare her Catholic virtue!
It was such a sweet and intense political rape! But Marc also felt he was groing old. No way he lasted this long inside that sweet-looking nurse so long ago.
He kept pounding the sobbing girl as he felt the big surge inside him. He braced himself, his gaze lost in the unthinkable act as he slammed her butt curves and loved how they flattened against him with each crashing stroke as he accelerated and passed his edge and yelled like a rutting elephant, and everything inside him went off at once! He blasted a son-of-a-gun of a load in several massive shots!
"AAHH YES YES! YYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRHGG!!! Of fuck! Oh, Holy Ghost! This is so fucking good! Yeah! Just like that Italian nurse in Saïo!"
His legs shaky from the intense burst of high pleasure, the First Sergeant left his spot for the First Corporal.
"You'll see how amazing it is to be raping those snob bitches, Michel! There's nothing quite like this! Oh, you! Shut up and enjoy! Get used to it!"
Those last words were for Tatiana, who was wailing really loud and begging her tormentors to please please let her go, with much semen dripping down her inner thighs.
She only succeeded in attracting more Congolese soldiers, who thickened her pressing circle of admirers upon noticing the insignias of her rank. None of them had any idea of her actual rank, but she clearly was a decorated officer. Her long loose hair radiated like a pure golden light against the deep spruce green of her uniform.
As Michel took his stand behind her and began taking his grunting tour of duty, Marc Gizenga took the leisure of fully appreciating the surreal glow of her skin against the hem of her jacket. Leaving her jacket on magnified the nakedness of her butt -- those firm curves that felt so good to hold during forced sex.
Marc lighted himself a cigarette, offered and gave another to one of his men, and looked on as the Soviet bitch kept whimpering and sobbing with her hair making waves of distress under the never-ending round of pounding.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhh! For Congoo!" the Corporal exclaimed as he blissfully shot his truckload of semen inside the decorated officer.
"And fuck you with your colonial privileges!" growled the most senior of the First-Class privates when he forcefully entered her and began to gleefully thrust pull push-pull and push back inside her wonderfully elating pussy. He accelerated and reveled in her intensifying tightness as his cock expanded inside her well-used pussy. This bitch in uniform was feeling it deep! Her trip to Congo would NOT be in vain and she'd have something to report about to the Kremlin back home.
This 35-year-old Private then had the brutal idea of switching holes!
Tatiana hated anal sex and had kept her rectum cock-free to that day, at 36 years old, since her husband wasn't hot on this either.
No word could describe her horror and shock as she felt the Private in the wrong hole as he punched his way deep inside her rectum! The pain was the worst. Were they trying to rip her apart with a beam?
She shrieked so loud one would think they were cooking her alive, as her rectum was now under a heavy barrage that forced her to live hell for the next three-minute eternity, until God had mercy on the Bolshevik girl... her rapist couldn't hold it any longer and his tomahawk exploded inside her rectum.
Even more men came, among them the group who held Major Boris Kutuzov as their prisoner. Now the hallway elbow was jam-packed with men brandishing their veiny tomahawks and grinned out of sheer anticipation, while the half-naked Mig pilot got properly Africanized by the rank-and-file.
"Tatiana! Tatiana! Noo! Not this! You monsters! Owww owww owww! no!"
"Shut your face, snow monkey! Shut up and see how we rape your girl! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" said a Private as he struck his back.
The soldier taunted him as he gave him another rifle-butt beating. Boris was soon on his knees and watching the mutineers taking their turns in railing his wife.
Tatiana was in a world of pain. Beside this, she was shocked at the unbridled intensity of those rapes. Would it have been this intense if a bunch of Chinese mechanics had caught her alone in Pyongyang? Would they have raped her just as brutally and shamelessly in that shit-hole hangar? Or was it a specificity unique to African men? She fortunately didn't know the difference. And yet she felt there couldn't be any fate worse than hers; little did she know that way downstairs in the lobby, there was a famous singer who'd be able to tell her the difference between getting gang-raped by Congolese troops in Léopoldville vs. gang-whored by Soviets after the fall of Breslau.
How much worse would it have been, had she got caught and gang-honored by Chinese mechanics and now the nightmare was beginning all over again? She didn't realize how lucky she was not to know the answer to this.
Tatiana remembered one of her fellow nighttime bomber pilots during the Great Patriotic War...
That girl had been shot down by an enemy Messerschmidt, the well-sung Me-109, and they all had given her up for dead, but two months later, she resurfaced and reported for duty. She had managed to land her plane and bail out before it got turned into a blazing torch of kerosene fire. She had been captured and was a POW for six weeks before she somehow escaped and made it back to friendly lines.
There was something absent and ghastly in her eyes ever after. Aksinia... Such a wonderful girl... The youngest among them. And with such glass-dead eyes when she blew her candles on her birthday, without joy, just a shadow of her former self. It was no longer the same Aksinia.
And at night, in her sleep, she would sing in German... "Horrido! Horrido! Horrido kleine Me-hundert neun!" Aksinia clearly had learned the language when on the wrong side of the frontline.
Now, as the long succession of stiff-erect men took their turns inside her, with the added horror of she knowing they were Negroes, now Tatiana understood why Aksinia was no longer Aksinia. Now she got hit by the realization that Aksinia was only half the age she was now, and yes, Aksinia's fate was worse than hers by that much. Half of infinity.
Tatiana was no longer Tatiana. Would she be able to fly again?
Suddenly she spotted her husband. His eyes! Something in his eyes was there that she hated. Lust! The pig was secretly enjoying the show! Her marriage was no longer her marriage. She was married to some stranger she thought she knew.
***
The six-man pack who had kept playing cats-and-mouse with the ambassador's secretary in her room and office had suddenly swarmed her!
Nadia now found herself pinned on her back right on her desk while the third or the fourth man was venting out his sexual fury with deep thrusts that never failed to hurt her. Her pride and dignity were gone. It had happened so fast! One moment, she was a neat girl typing her boss's next report for the Kremlin on her Cyrillic typewriter; and the next moment she was a fuck doll for Congolese soldiers.
They had lifted off her feet and she had screamed the loudest ever in her life! Kicking her feet in the air so hard that her pumps flew and left her black-stockinged feet as they tossed her typewriter off the desk along with a stack of paper sheets they sent flying while putting her ass on the desk.
She had shaken her head with disbelief as they told her this was payback time, and her dark cardigan was wide open under her, like two bat wings, as she felt their gazes on the terrified knolls of her breasts and expected them to rip off her dalmatian-pattern shirt any second, and her wriggling hips and legs got their white glory revealed as they pulled and tore her shirt and panties and propped her dark-stockinged legs right up and slid all those bunched garments past her small feet and telling her, "Miss no longer needs this" in a French she alas understood all too well.
Only girls who have been gang-raped truly understand how degrading it had felt when those ape-men undressed her, and added a touch of black skin on ivory as they commented on the whiteness of her legs and the satin blackness of her delicate bush, which she trimmed for Major Boris Kutuzov her secret lover.
Now after two or three rapes, the men around her were growing a bit less noisy and more methodical, but she wasn't quieter, not by any means! She kept shaking her head while screaming her heart out; her bobbing head in a blur of dark hair as they each got their most secret fantasy satisfied.
In her pride, Nadia had always felt those subhuman men in Congo were all secretly lusting after her, preferring a white girl in their dream to their own women in real life. And now she had proof. The proof was in the pudding they gave her pussy when they filled her with filth and the filthier prospect of a possible child. Why did they have to choose that time of her month!
She felt weirdly amused as she pictured herself asking them to come back next week if they were sure about doing this. The fleck of amusement only lasted for a dime in a million-dollar worth of shit.
And presently they were moving her around and "kindly" helping her out of her torn cardigan, while she was still miraculously wearing her dalmatian-print shirt, intact, as they bent her over the desk. Some hands either kneaded the firm softness of her butt or savagely tore her stockings off her, while someone commented about how small her butt looked, yet it turned out surprisingly vast when looked from so close! Someone was kissing her on her bum.
Another man, his voice sounding very much like a teenager, was whining about having yet to see her tits.
"Her tits are small and nothing much, really!" the Corporal said.
"But that's what I love! Small tits, and I bet she's got lovely pink nipples!"
"Well, we gonna take wagers on this. Boys! I bet one frank that this Soviet snow-bitch has light brown nipples!"
"All right, Corporal, I take you on! Two franks she's got them pink like I said!"
"Hey, Aristide, our recruit boy is talking like a real man!"
Nadia then lost all sense of her surroundings as one beast of a man shoved his cock right inside her tight pussy and she felt those all-African hands on her bum! And then it was a savage, silently grunting rape that ended with the man almost sounding as if he were in great pain as he blissfully erupted inside her.
And the next man eagerly took his place...
"Aaahhhrrr! At last! At last! At last we can fuck fuck fuck their women! All white girls in Congo belong to us! The Kongo warriors!"
"KONG-GO! KONG-GO! KONG-GO! ..." they chanted in the same rhythm as her rape.
Nadia heard them chanting as her face was kept kissing her desk while that half-crazy rapist held the crease of her hips and gave her buns a savage reason to get flat with every bump as civilizations were clashing and tribal chants were echoing against the wall of her office, where a picture of Sputnik was to be found.
***
"Keep her head sliding on that table! The dirty little Bolshevik tramp!" Corporal Joseph Makélélé told Laurent, the First-Class Private who was raping Katyusha for the second time and in the exact same doggy-style position, because they just couldn't get enough of her all-white legs and butt. The massive dinner table was so perfect for this!
And besides, the joy of raping her with her dyadya watching was priceless no matter which position they choose. Did position matter when all they wanted was her tight pussy and the unfathomable delight of a life-altering ejaculation. Katyusha added the thrill of deflowering a maiden to the thrill of raping a white girl, this multiplied by her sky-high beauty and the fairy-tale length of her hair.
Soldiers were ransacking the place and getting drunk after finding Oleg's bar and soon enough, someone poured vodka on Katyusha's sweet curves and between two rapes, he made her snow-white bottom Congolese by licking all the vodka off her wonderful skin, with a world of meaning in each of his tongue strokes.
The taste was strong and priceless, with a twang of girly skin salts.
In Katyusha's bedroom, Magda was used as a whore on the bed. The two first men to have her couldn't believe their luck. They were very young men and had tried her out three times each in different positions, doggy-style being their favorite, followed closely with a hugging stance where her bum was kept bouncing on the drawer as the 19-year-old soldier cupped Magda's buns as she was too exhausted to resist and let her head bob along with the man's bull strokes as he raped her senseless, until he yelled his delight in her face!
They had kissed and licked every little inch of her body and taken great pleasure in this, starting with her long hair of night-witch charms, which they found kept together in a bun before undoing it, and right along her lines and curves that seemed filled with pure light, and their kissing licking adoration reached right down to the very tip of her feet. One of those young studs worshiped her feet to such an insane degree that he came on them!
With her legs wonderfully bent and her feet close together and offering something the young Negro could never have hoped to see, let alone touch, the 18-year-old lad had frantically masturbated until his brown prick spewed a massive load that coated the sensitive skin on the top of those all-white feet, making them African-sticky, and the lady screamed and wailed the same as if his coconut pudding were sulfuric acid burning her skin!
Most of the squad had gone for the youngster and gang-raped Katyusha, but it had to be said that Magda was only 32 and had had no pregnancy in her 15 years of marriage. Not only this, but she easily looked years younger, to the point she was routinely thought to be Katyusha's elder sister.
Those two bastards who had her for themselves were lucky bastards indeed!
At some point the door got broken open and the suite was stormed with a new group of soldiers. Sergeant-Major Daniel Bokungu was among them. He was really pissed to be late in the party, for it had taken him a long while, in all this confusion and excitement, to learn where the ambassador's suite was.
He had been part of the honor guard during the ceremonies for Independence on June 30th and he had spotted the ambassador's daughter. And he wanted her and only her.
He was the brain behind the attack. It was thanks to him that the tall tale about Red soldiers being flown to Léopoldville took so much traction. He used his leadership and influence on the men to make this rumor big, to inflate it to such a degree that the entire battalion was filled with vengeful hate against the Soviets!
The real reason he had staged this attack had one name. Katyusha.
TO BE CONTINUED.
Tatiana didn't get very far as she ran through the crowded hallway where all hell was breaking loose where tan-uniformed, rifle-wielding Negroes chased the women and clubbed the men with the brown devil of the unspeakable in their face. Soon enough, she was spotted.
As she aimed her Tokarev at one of those brown brutes at close range, Tatiana suddenly learned that strafing troops when piloting a plane was one thing, and shooting a man looking at you from only four yards was another thing. Her trembling hand refused to pull the trigger. It also needed to be said that two of these brave brown comrades were pointing their rifle at her and she liked to live... even in the face of "a fate worse than death".
The first man was on her, grabbing her wrist, and then more men surrounded her. Catcalls! Jeers! She had no idea what those apes were saying as they lifted her off her feet, but from the way they made her scream as they groped her, she could guess pretty good what they must be saying. One undid her hair and it fell on her shoulders like a cascade that hinted to a golden bush between her legs. That same man pulled her hair and taught her her first words of French...
"Allez, salope!"
He pulled hard and it hurt. She heard, "allee salopp" and she gathered enough of context to deduce he was probably calling her a "suka", the Russian for "tramp" or "bitch".
They took her to a relatively quieter place where the hallway turned a corner of the building.
That's where the curvy Mig fighter pilot found herself surrounded and restrained by the pack of Kongo mutineers, and facing a man who wasn't specially tall or burly, but whose face and the way he frowned his eyebrows marked him as the leader.
She spat on his face!
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her as if the outcome of a war depended on how hard he shook her. She whimpered as her head shook like a blur of golden hair along with the rest of her.
"So you wanted to send troops here to pacify us, did you? Well now it is you who's gonna get PACIFIED! Hnnrrh rrrrhh!"
He kept furiously shaking her like a shrub in a hurricane, while she kept pitifully whimpering and begging him to please stop. But he didn't understand a word of Russian and neither did she understand French.
"You! Gimme her pistol!"
"Yes Sergeant! Right away!"
"Now, beautiful, let me introduce myself since we're going to spend a lot of lovely hours together. I'm First Sergeant Marc Gizenga and I respectfully salute your shit country!"
And on this he slapped Tatiana with her own Tokarev! She yelped as her head sort of bounced sideways. Groggy, she would have lost her balance if she had not been restrained by those brown grinning boys.
"Noo... Please... Stop this..."
"Whatever you're saying, baby-doll, we're gonna fuck you 'till our cum oozes out of your eyes and ears!" Marc Gizenga said in her face as he gently caressed her uniformed bosom with the barrel of her gun, taking his time and going really slow as the tip of her Tokarev quietly traveled down the brass buttons of her spruce-green jacket, while some jungle-black hands were caressing her shoulder pads and making a mockery of her rank.
"Look at those sky blue stripes on her shoulders! They match her eyes. Ain't she pretty?" commented a Corporal restraining her arms behind her back.
"She looks really sexy without her hat!" said a Private.
"I can't wait to buck and jungle-shake her!" added another.
Tatiana had a sudden burst of jerking motions, but she failed in her attempt and pitifully bawled, tears flowing down her Black-Sea blue eyes.
"Nieet! Niet! You have no right! I have my diplomatic immunity! I have nothing against you! Please just let me go I won't say anything!"
Seeing her yapper open, the First Sergeant shoved the barrel of her Tokarev in it and he began to move it back and forth inside her mouth.
"Taste this, bitch!" he said as he made the Lieutenant-Colonel suck her own service pistol. "Give it a nice spit-polish! Give it all your love! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" her tormentor added.
There was nothing she could do! She felt so powerless! The cold steel was insistently pushed and pulled against her tongue and palate. She had her arms firmly restrained behind her with a bunch of hands groping her tits, her butt and her legs -- They were violating the Kremlin by violating her uniform. Dreaming she were the pilot of a plane carrying a bomb to nuke this shit-hole of a city, Lieutenant-Colonel Tatiana Kutuzov sucked the pistol on, her pistol, tears flowing down her fair-blush cheeks with an Egypt plague of horror in her heart as she knew for a fact that those men, from the leader to the last of them, were about to gang-rape her.
As if she needed confirmation of this, Tatiana heard the screams and lamentations of women being railed, one of them the nurse, Ilsa, right there on the hallway floor, with her white uniform wide open on the jiggling play of her tits as three or four smiling Negroes kept her pinned under them and quickly took their turns on top of her.
Tatiana's distressed mind tried and failed to calm down in a panic search for a way out of this. There was none.
"And the nightmare is just beginning, sweetheart! Now I'm hard and it's time for you to get your first Congolese cock," Marc Gizenga bellowed as he unzipped his desert-tan trousers and produced his astonishing size.
Tatiana screamed in absolute horror as she saw this thing from dark Africa! An absolute snake with its ugly head and she could even smell its offensive stench from right where she stood, restrained, with her arms painfully pulled behind her by that Corporal who kept kissing and licking her face!
She watched as their leader masturbated in front of her, and much like a sparrow hypnotized by a snake, Tatiana just couldn't help it; she couldn't look away from that dark veiny thing that was now being coated with slobber. How was this huge thing going to enter inside her?
"All right boys, bend her over and hold her still! The First Corporal goes after me, and then the rest of you by order of seniority! Let's show those Soviets that the Congolese Force publique also follows the time-old laws of war!"
As he said this, First Sergeant Gizenga felt as if he were eighteen again and a Private! He had fought the Italians in Ethiopia in the Belgo-Congolese army who won the Siege of Saïo in early July 1941. He and others had gang-raped a beautiful Italian nurse when his unit stormed an enemy brigade headquarters and began looting and pillaging everything including the field hospital, where a group of nurses were found, all between 20 and 25 years old. It had been so much fun!
As he looked at his men positioning that Soviet bitch for him, he clearly remembered being one of the young soldiers in the very act of positioning that brunette for their Sergeant to be the first to deflower her, as the Roman girl kept screaming -- in French -- that she was a virgin.
"Je suis vierge! Je suis vierge! Pour l'amour de Dieu, épargnez-moi, non!" (I'm a virgin! I'm a virgin! For the love of God, spare me, no!)
Perhaps she was half French after all. He never knew her name. Did she fall pregnant after? Does he have a child without knowing?
The Italian nurse and the Soviet she-officer both wailed and cried the same, one in his mind, the other right there. The same shock and horror in their eyes as grinning men restrained and groped them.
As soon as she was bent-over and firmly restrained after two desperate attempts at escaping, Tatiana felt the sharp pull at her waist where they urgently lowered her spruce-green trousers and bunched them down knee-height against her long boots.
Then, First Sergeant Marc Gizenga enjoyed this last fleeting moment where he saw her panties -- purple -- and noticed the full curves of her juicy buttocks as she cried and wailed like a lost child where a couple of soldiers were "comforting" her by stroking her hair and slapping their cocks against her face.
In a loud explosion of ripping joy, he destroyed those purple panties and her Soviet bum materialized! Medium complexion that spoke of perhaps a touch of nude sunbathing, perhaps on a beach in Odessa. Or it could just be her ancestry, where perhaps some darker Turkish blood got inseminated, or some gang-rape done by Mongols a long long time ago, with a resulting baby who found his/her way in her ancestry.
With unfathomable elation, Marc Gizenga tapped this European bottom with his gigantic phallus, the same way he had done to that Italian nurse whose skin had a similar haze of cream white. It was so awesome to feel the final stiffening of his branch against her baby-soft bum curves! Right next to that mind-boggling crack with clear hints of her cunt.
Except this time, there was no superior to tell him to get it done quick. He was the boss now!
And with a paroxysm of elation, the Congolese platoon Sergeant uttered a wild and long-winded yell of victory as he brutally shoved his well-slobbered cock inside the whimpering bitch, and he grabbed the wonderful crease of her hips and then went to town with an unrestrained barrage of thrusts!
He pounded the Soviet girl exactly like he did for that Mussolini girl two decades before. No mercy! No mercy for communists! No mercy for fascism! He put his cock on the line of duty and gave the girl something to remember with his mighty strokes serving democracy.
"Oh boy! She's a really good fuck, boys!" he told his men, using the very same words his now-dead Sergeant did when he was the first inside that Italian as she screamed her life out and begged them to spare her Catholic virtue!
It was such a sweet and intense political rape! But Marc also felt he was groing old. No way he lasted this long inside that sweet-looking nurse so long ago.
He kept pounding the sobbing girl as he felt the big surge inside him. He braced himself, his gaze lost in the unthinkable act as he slammed her butt curves and loved how they flattened against him with each crashing stroke as he accelerated and passed his edge and yelled like a rutting elephant, and everything inside him went off at once! He blasted a son-of-a-gun of a load in several massive shots!
"AAHH YES YES! YYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRHGG!!! Of fuck! Oh, Holy Ghost! This is so fucking good! Yeah! Just like that Italian nurse in Saïo!"
His legs shaky from the intense burst of high pleasure, the First Sergeant left his spot for the First Corporal.
"You'll see how amazing it is to be raping those snob bitches, Michel! There's nothing quite like this! Oh, you! Shut up and enjoy! Get used to it!"
Those last words were for Tatiana, who was wailing really loud and begging her tormentors to please please let her go, with much semen dripping down her inner thighs.
She only succeeded in attracting more Congolese soldiers, who thickened her pressing circle of admirers upon noticing the insignias of her rank. None of them had any idea of her actual rank, but she clearly was a decorated officer. Her long loose hair radiated like a pure golden light against the deep spruce green of her uniform.
As Michel took his stand behind her and began taking his grunting tour of duty, Marc Gizenga took the leisure of fully appreciating the surreal glow of her skin against the hem of her jacket. Leaving her jacket on magnified the nakedness of her butt -- those firm curves that felt so good to hold during forced sex.
Marc lighted himself a cigarette, offered and gave another to one of his men, and looked on as the Soviet bitch kept whimpering and sobbing with her hair making waves of distress under the never-ending round of pounding.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhh! For Congoo!" the Corporal exclaimed as he blissfully shot his truckload of semen inside the decorated officer.
"And fuck you with your colonial privileges!" growled the most senior of the First-Class privates when he forcefully entered her and began to gleefully thrust pull push-pull and push back inside her wonderfully elating pussy. He accelerated and reveled in her intensifying tightness as his cock expanded inside her well-used pussy. This bitch in uniform was feeling it deep! Her trip to Congo would NOT be in vain and she'd have something to report about to the Kremlin back home.
This 35-year-old Private then had the brutal idea of switching holes!
Tatiana hated anal sex and had kept her rectum cock-free to that day, at 36 years old, since her husband wasn't hot on this either.
No word could describe her horror and shock as she felt the Private in the wrong hole as he punched his way deep inside her rectum! The pain was the worst. Were they trying to rip her apart with a beam?
She shrieked so loud one would think they were cooking her alive, as her rectum was now under a heavy barrage that forced her to live hell for the next three-minute eternity, until God had mercy on the Bolshevik girl... her rapist couldn't hold it any longer and his tomahawk exploded inside her rectum.
Even more men came, among them the group who held Major Boris Kutuzov as their prisoner. Now the hallway elbow was jam-packed with men brandishing their veiny tomahawks and grinned out of sheer anticipation, while the half-naked Mig pilot got properly Africanized by the rank-and-file.
"Tatiana! Tatiana! Noo! Not this! You monsters! Owww owww owww! no!"
"Shut your face, snow monkey! Shut up and see how we rape your girl! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" said a Private as he struck his back.
The soldier taunted him as he gave him another rifle-butt beating. Boris was soon on his knees and watching the mutineers taking their turns in railing his wife.
Tatiana was in a world of pain. Beside this, she was shocked at the unbridled intensity of those rapes. Would it have been this intense if a bunch of Chinese mechanics had caught her alone in Pyongyang? Would they have raped her just as brutally and shamelessly in that shit-hole hangar? Or was it a specificity unique to African men? She fortunately didn't know the difference. And yet she felt there couldn't be any fate worse than hers; little did she know that way downstairs in the lobby, there was a famous singer who'd be able to tell her the difference between getting gang-raped by Congolese troops in Léopoldville vs. gang-whored by Soviets after the fall of Breslau.
How much worse would it have been, had she got caught and gang-honored by Chinese mechanics and now the nightmare was beginning all over again? She didn't realize how lucky she was not to know the answer to this.
Tatiana remembered one of her fellow nighttime bomber pilots during the Great Patriotic War...
That girl had been shot down by an enemy Messerschmidt, the well-sung Me-109, and they all had given her up for dead, but two months later, she resurfaced and reported for duty. She had managed to land her plane and bail out before it got turned into a blazing torch of kerosene fire. She had been captured and was a POW for six weeks before she somehow escaped and made it back to friendly lines.
There was something absent and ghastly in her eyes ever after. Aksinia... Such a wonderful girl... The youngest among them. And with such glass-dead eyes when she blew her candles on her birthday, without joy, just a shadow of her former self. It was no longer the same Aksinia.
And at night, in her sleep, she would sing in German... "Horrido! Horrido! Horrido kleine Me-hundert neun!" Aksinia clearly had learned the language when on the wrong side of the frontline.
Now, as the long succession of stiff-erect men took their turns inside her, with the added horror of she knowing they were Negroes, now Tatiana understood why Aksinia was no longer Aksinia. Now she got hit by the realization that Aksinia was only half the age she was now, and yes, Aksinia's fate was worse than hers by that much. Half of infinity.
Tatiana was no longer Tatiana. Would she be able to fly again?
Suddenly she spotted her husband. His eyes! Something in his eyes was there that she hated. Lust! The pig was secretly enjoying the show! Her marriage was no longer her marriage. She was married to some stranger she thought she knew.
***
The six-man pack who had kept playing cats-and-mouse with the ambassador's secretary in her room and office had suddenly swarmed her!
Nadia now found herself pinned on her back right on her desk while the third or the fourth man was venting out his sexual fury with deep thrusts that never failed to hurt her. Her pride and dignity were gone. It had happened so fast! One moment, she was a neat girl typing her boss's next report for the Kremlin on her Cyrillic typewriter; and the next moment she was a fuck doll for Congolese soldiers.
They had lifted off her feet and she had screamed the loudest ever in her life! Kicking her feet in the air so hard that her pumps flew and left her black-stockinged feet as they tossed her typewriter off the desk along with a stack of paper sheets they sent flying while putting her ass on the desk.
She had shaken her head with disbelief as they told her this was payback time, and her dark cardigan was wide open under her, like two bat wings, as she felt their gazes on the terrified knolls of her breasts and expected them to rip off her dalmatian-pattern shirt any second, and her wriggling hips and legs got their white glory revealed as they pulled and tore her shirt and panties and propped her dark-stockinged legs right up and slid all those bunched garments past her small feet and telling her, "Miss no longer needs this" in a French she alas understood all too well.
Only girls who have been gang-raped truly understand how degrading it had felt when those ape-men undressed her, and added a touch of black skin on ivory as they commented on the whiteness of her legs and the satin blackness of her delicate bush, which she trimmed for Major Boris Kutuzov her secret lover.
Now after two or three rapes, the men around her were growing a bit less noisy and more methodical, but she wasn't quieter, not by any means! She kept shaking her head while screaming her heart out; her bobbing head in a blur of dark hair as they each got their most secret fantasy satisfied.
In her pride, Nadia had always felt those subhuman men in Congo were all secretly lusting after her, preferring a white girl in their dream to their own women in real life. And now she had proof. The proof was in the pudding they gave her pussy when they filled her with filth and the filthier prospect of a possible child. Why did they have to choose that time of her month!
She felt weirdly amused as she pictured herself asking them to come back next week if they were sure about doing this. The fleck of amusement only lasted for a dime in a million-dollar worth of shit.
And presently they were moving her around and "kindly" helping her out of her torn cardigan, while she was still miraculously wearing her dalmatian-print shirt, intact, as they bent her over the desk. Some hands either kneaded the firm softness of her butt or savagely tore her stockings off her, while someone commented about how small her butt looked, yet it turned out surprisingly vast when looked from so close! Someone was kissing her on her bum.
Another man, his voice sounding very much like a teenager, was whining about having yet to see her tits.
"Her tits are small and nothing much, really!" the Corporal said.
"But that's what I love! Small tits, and I bet she's got lovely pink nipples!"
"Well, we gonna take wagers on this. Boys! I bet one frank that this Soviet snow-bitch has light brown nipples!"
"All right, Corporal, I take you on! Two franks she's got them pink like I said!"
"Hey, Aristide, our recruit boy is talking like a real man!"
Nadia then lost all sense of her surroundings as one beast of a man shoved his cock right inside her tight pussy and she felt those all-African hands on her bum! And then it was a savage, silently grunting rape that ended with the man almost sounding as if he were in great pain as he blissfully erupted inside her.
And the next man eagerly took his place...
"Aaahhhrrr! At last! At last! At last we can fuck fuck fuck their women! All white girls in Congo belong to us! The Kongo warriors!"
"KONG-GO! KONG-GO! KONG-GO! ..." they chanted in the same rhythm as her rape.
Nadia heard them chanting as her face was kept kissing her desk while that half-crazy rapist held the crease of her hips and gave her buns a savage reason to get flat with every bump as civilizations were clashing and tribal chants were echoing against the wall of her office, where a picture of Sputnik was to be found.
***
"Keep her head sliding on that table! The dirty little Bolshevik tramp!" Corporal Joseph Makélélé told Laurent, the First-Class Private who was raping Katyusha for the second time and in the exact same doggy-style position, because they just couldn't get enough of her all-white legs and butt. The massive dinner table was so perfect for this!
And besides, the joy of raping her with her dyadya watching was priceless no matter which position they choose. Did position matter when all they wanted was her tight pussy and the unfathomable delight of a life-altering ejaculation. Katyusha added the thrill of deflowering a maiden to the thrill of raping a white girl, this multiplied by her sky-high beauty and the fairy-tale length of her hair.
Soldiers were ransacking the place and getting drunk after finding Oleg's bar and soon enough, someone poured vodka on Katyusha's sweet curves and between two rapes, he made her snow-white bottom Congolese by licking all the vodka off her wonderful skin, with a world of meaning in each of his tongue strokes.
The taste was strong and priceless, with a twang of girly skin salts.
In Katyusha's bedroom, Magda was used as a whore on the bed. The two first men to have her couldn't believe their luck. They were very young men and had tried her out three times each in different positions, doggy-style being their favorite, followed closely with a hugging stance where her bum was kept bouncing on the drawer as the 19-year-old soldier cupped Magda's buns as she was too exhausted to resist and let her head bob along with the man's bull strokes as he raped her senseless, until he yelled his delight in her face!
They had kissed and licked every little inch of her body and taken great pleasure in this, starting with her long hair of night-witch charms, which they found kept together in a bun before undoing it, and right along her lines and curves that seemed filled with pure light, and their kissing licking adoration reached right down to the very tip of her feet. One of those young studs worshiped her feet to such an insane degree that he came on them!
With her legs wonderfully bent and her feet close together and offering something the young Negro could never have hoped to see, let alone touch, the 18-year-old lad had frantically masturbated until his brown prick spewed a massive load that coated the sensitive skin on the top of those all-white feet, making them African-sticky, and the lady screamed and wailed the same as if his coconut pudding were sulfuric acid burning her skin!
Most of the squad had gone for the youngster and gang-raped Katyusha, but it had to be said that Magda was only 32 and had had no pregnancy in her 15 years of marriage. Not only this, but she easily looked years younger, to the point she was routinely thought to be Katyusha's elder sister.
Those two bastards who had her for themselves were lucky bastards indeed!
At some point the door got broken open and the suite was stormed with a new group of soldiers. Sergeant-Major Daniel Bokungu was among them. He was really pissed to be late in the party, for it had taken him a long while, in all this confusion and excitement, to learn where the ambassador's suite was.
He had been part of the honor guard during the ceremonies for Independence on June 30th and he had spotted the ambassador's daughter. And he wanted her and only her.
He was the brain behind the attack. It was thanks to him that the tall tale about Red soldiers being flown to Léopoldville took so much traction. He used his leadership and influence on the men to make this rumor big, to inflate it to such a degree that the entire battalion was filled with vengeful hate against the Soviets!
The real reason he had staged this attack had one name. Katyusha.
TO BE CONTINUED.