Mutiny In Léopoldville

[HistBuff]

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.

[HistBuff]

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.

[Lucius]

Fantastic and most enjoyable story, amazingly detailed! In my opinion, the amount of research necessary was worth it.

Caterina is a delicious object of desire, I think she's entered my fantasies with that story. Was she in Léopoldville on 30 June 1960, or is it artistic licence?

I haven't expected to meet the late King of the Belgians at RavishA -- incidentally, I have a clear childhood memory of sitting in the garden listening to the radio on 1 August 1993. It was announced that Baudouin I had died the day before at his villa in Spain -- I recognized his name from the encyclopaedias I used to thumb through.

[HistBuff]

Fantastic and most enjoyable story, amazingly detailed! In my opinion, the amount of research necessary was worth it.

Caterina is a delicious object of desire, I think she's entered my fantasies with that story. Was she in Léopoldville on 30 June 1960, or is it artistic licence?

I haven't expected to meet the late King of the Belgians at RavishA -- incidentally, I have a clear childhood memory of sitting in the garden listening to the radio on 1 August 1993. It was announced that Baudouin I had died the day before at his villa in Spain -- I recognized his name from the encyclopaedias I used to thumb through.

Thanks for the kind words, @Lucius !

Caterina probably never set foot in Congo once in her life! It's complete artistic licence, and her clothes and hairstyle are a lot more 1956 than 1960, when she already wore her hair shorter. But my fantasy with her has her looking the way she did in the German movie Bonjour Kathrin from '56. Caterina was 25 in that movie, and pretty much unchanged four years later. She was always slim with full buttocks since she had always danced a lot in addition to her singing and acting.

The Poni-Tails were a very popular group in USA. They started out as teens in their local high-school in '56 and were around 20-22 in 1960, which is pretty much when they disbanded and all got married and became housewives or/and did something else. They were absolutely not in Congo either!

Baudouin was a handsome 30-year-old man back then, and late 1960 is when he married. Having him involved in glamorous affairs doesn't seem too far-fetched.

[Lucius]

Caterina probably never set foot in Congo once in her life! It's complete artistic licence, and her clothes and hairstyle are a lot more 1956 than 1960, when she already wore her hair shorter. But my fantasy with her has her looking the way she did in the German movie Bonjour Kathrin from '56. Caterina was 25 in that movie, and pretty much unchanged four years later. She was always slim with full buttocks since she had always danced a lot in addition to her singing and acting.

The Poni-Tails were a very popular group in USA. They started out as teens in their local high-school in '56 and were around 20-22 in 1960, which is pretty much when they disbanded and all got married and became housewives or/and did something else. They were absolutely not in Congo either!

Lucky for them! Thank you for the clarification.

Caterina was raped by Soviet soldiers during her youth, when they captured Breslau in what is now East Germany, and since then she never stopped to have strong rape fantasies.

May I offer a minor correction pertaining to the opening post? Breslau never belonged to East Germany. In 1945 the city was handed over to Poland at Potsdam, becoming Wrocław.

[HistBuff]

Caterina was raped by Soviet soldiers during her youth, when they captured Breslau in what is now East Germany, and since then she never stopped to have strong rape fantasies.

May I offer a minor correction pertaining to the opening post? Breslau never belonged to East Germany. In 1945 the city was handed over to Poland at Potsdam, becoming Wrocław.

Just corrected it. When writing this, I was extremely cautious due to Caterina's age in 1945. It's not an issue to just state that a character was deflowered when she was only 14, forcibly or not, as long as I don't offer any details as to how this happened exactly other than some general lines such as "nearly all the girls in Breslau were gang-raped and Caterina shared their fate". This greatly limits my freedom when writing any flashbacks Caterina may have 15 years later, but I do want to be able to post this story here. Of course, the fact that Breslau lost its German identity and became Polish slipped my mind, so thanks!

[Lucius]

Just corrected it. When writing this, I was extremely cautious due to Caterina's age in 1945. It's not an issue to just state that a character was deflowered when she was only 14, forcibly or not, as long as I don't offer any details as to how this happened exactly other than some general lines such as "nearly all the girls in Breslau were gang-raped and Caterina shared their fate". This greatly limits my freedom when writing any flashbacks Caterina may have 15 years later, but I do want to be able to post this story here.

I understand absolutely, my comment was pure political geography.

Of course, the fact that Breslau lost its German identity and became Polish slipped my mind, so thanks!

Ah, Central Europe and its borders... I happen to admire The Berlin Wall Tune by Joseph Brodsky.

[HistBuff]

Sergeant-Major Albert Mpoku had self-appointed himself as the Colonel of his battalion and he did insist his men call him "Colonel Sir" with the notable exception of his fellow Sergeant-Major Daniel, with whom he had done his boot camp back in '36. While Daniel was becoming the undisputed King of the jungle on the seventh floor where he just found Katyusha and swore and cursed from being late to the party, Sergeant-Major Albert Mpoku surreptitiously made his way down to the lobby where he started looking for famous singer Caterina Valente.

His cousin who worked in this hotel had told him she was staying in room 22, but after wandering in the hallway where shrill screams resonated from girls being gang-raped in other rooms, the Congolese self-appointed Colonel found no bird in the cage and he had gone down to the lobby, where he knew that a great many white girls were getting their share of coconut sludge from his men.

And he was right. He walked in the ransacked restaurant and surveyed the absolute pandemonium where white men had been beaten to a bruised and bloody pulp before getting tied up and forced to watch as the beige-uniformed troops brutally stripped and raped the wives, sisters and daughters.

Sergeant-Major Albert Mpoku saw a wide-eyed Corporal in the act of deep raping some late-teenage girl whose pointy tits were rhythmically dancing in a panicked jiggle with each repetitive ram from the man, as other mutineers held the girl by the wrists, her back flat on the table and the jersey she wore still there, but bunched up in a surreal show where its dark blue enhanced the pale-skin beauty of her free-to-watch bosom where those men were free to touch and kiss those dancing nipples, while the deflowered girl cried, tears in her eyes, her freckled face bitterly distorted and the bobbing mass of her chestnut hair gracing the checkered red and white tablecloth. Her pigtails provided easy holding for anyone who wished to force her to face this way or another, notably to kiss her against her will, for she looked adorably pretty.

The poor girl had no other choice except to keep crying, to clutch her white-gloved fists and to endure the unthinkable as the futile grace of her pearl necklace added a touch of irony and preposterous glamour to her defilement, with Sergeant-Major Albert Mpoku witnessing her horror and rejoicing, while the mother was getting raped from behind, bent over the very same table, Eve-nude and surprisingly beautiful for her forty-plus years of age, while the Corporal, his jaw dropped and slobber flowing down, slapped his trousers-down frame deep inside the Belgian daughter and as her buttocks got flattened by the post-colonial impact, the Congolese soldier screamed out his joy and victory as he spewed a massive load of swimmers that carried the dangerous risk for a brown baby.

Albert Mpoku had no idea where Caterina could be amid all the densely crowded orgy, so he took the opportunity and ordered the men to make room for him as he quickly walked to the champion's spot, between the girl's legs.

"What's your name, girl?" he asked the Belgian lass in French as he unzipped his trousers and released the impatient length and girth of his cock. It jutted out of his beige-uniformed silhouette as if some dark mud had suddenly morphed into a dangerous-looking phallus.

"I... Fuck you!"

"How old are you, little angel?"

"She's only 18 and leave her alone, nigger!" the mother barked from where she was getting buck-raped right beside her daughter. "Nooo! My little Marianne!!! Please... Aahh aaaaaaaaa it's too horrible!!!"

"Shut up, Belgian bitch! You've enjoyed your colonial privileges for far too long! Now it's our turn to be on top! Now watch and enjoy how we rape your little tramp of a daughter! AAahhrRRRRRRRRR!!!"

As he growled, Sergeant-Major Albert Mpoku rammed himself inside the wench, who shrieked in agony while a soldier caressed the lines of her face and went down to the jiggling contours of her breasts with the barrel tip of his rifle, and all the troops laughed and made fun of her while their self-appointed Colonel began to pound her deep and hard.

Sergeant-Major Albert Mpoku propped her legs way up. He even stopped his thrusts and quickly pulled off the girl's dark blue socks that were rimmed with golden lines. Stopping did not made him go soft inside her. As he found himself face to foot with her and began to avidly lick and kiss the soles and heels of her feet and took a deep whiff of their rosy scent down his gorilla's nostrils, the battalion commander got baobab-hard! He felt the lovely expanse against the tight pressure from her walls and this filled him with a sense of absolute elation and victory over the white pigs!

The forty-five-year-old man kept her legs together, half-bent with her feet on either side of his wide fat face, his hands holding the divine softness of her legs as he resumed his slug-fest of cock strokes. He savagely raped the sobbing girl, making her tits jiggle in a wild tumult of fast-moving jelly that kept getting buried under African hands as the troops whistled and catcalled while their boss kept relentlessly pounding her...

"Aah yes! Yes! Yes!!! Look at her father! Forced to watch as we fuck his precious daughter! Welcome to independent Congo, white pig! Ahhr!!! Aah ahhhrrr She's a good fuck! A real good fuck! Real real good! And now her dad knows what it's like to be on the losing side! Hrrrr..."

Soon enough, Sergeant-Major Albert Mpoku felt the upcoming rush of unstoppable fire inside him as he got hypnotized by the non-stop leitmotiv of her pointy tits, the unbelievable paleness that kept screaming "white girl" to his unbelieving mind as he kept enjoying the close proximity of her bare feet and the wet tightness of her vagina as he passed his edge!

"Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes!!! All in for Congo--HHNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNMMGHGHGH --UUGHG UUuugghh uuugh!!!"

Sounding like a dying man, feeling weightless on watery legs, the fat and squat man filled up the Belgian lass, consuming their preposterous union. Her cries were beyond satisfying to hear. The mutiny was worth the risk.

"Yeah, yeah! It's worth it!" he growled as he pulled out and watched the spilling out of his own semen from her entrance, noting that her pussy hair was of a brown slightly darker than her pigtails as the freckled girl kept bawling while brown hands relentlessly pressured her tits, which now looked a bit swollen.

Albert Mpoku used her feet to wipe his spent cock as the girl exploded in a shrieking flurry of sobs and cries, calling her mother's name while her mother was kept too busy with a well-endowed soldier inside her.

Albert walked away, looking for Caterina while a soldier had already taken his spot and renewed the daughter's ordeal. She cried and sobbed while the soldier grunted and called her a "little cheap, no-good white tramp" as he ravaged her with others keeping their hands on her swollen boobs while someone stretched and finally tore her jersey and ripped away the shreds from her bright-white skin, completing her final undressing and causing her to cry louder over the loss of her favourite article of clothing, the one she wore every other day.

Now, where was Caterina Valente amid this jungle of black-on-white tumult?

The floor was littered with debris of torn blouses and left-there skirts that told the story of a very urgent undressing a forced stripping where all those European bitches must have filled the restaurant with the shrill music of their shock and panic when his men gained access to their priceless nakedness! Albert grinned upon thinking of those breasts suddenly there in all their paleness and their nipples dancing in absolute shock of being there under Negro hands and mouths! It was a beautiful day for Congo! History was written in letters of cum.

As he re-buckled his colonial leather belt and made his way through the post-colonial tumult, Albert Mpoku took great delight in watching how his very own men, wearing a wide smile of white joy in their bright dark face, were obliterating the pride of those women and young ladies right in front of beaten-up husbands and fathers and brothers who proved unable to defend their loved ones, and now morally emasculated, a shadow of their former selves as they watched on in horror and -- in some cases --- morbid fascination.

He stopped as he saw a ponytail girl who spoke English and kept protesting she was an American citizen. The dark blonde girl was stark naked with a few shredded remnants of clothes, her bright white tits jiggling in perky motions as the smiling men kept her amid them, sort of floating in their arms as they took their turns in a best bucking man's contest between those pale legs that Albert found so fascinating.

A dark-haired ponytail girl was also protesting in English and making laughable threats about a company of US Marines on their way to slaughter them while she was forced to keep her face smack down and sliding on a tabletop as one Negro after the other forcibly fucked her from behind, the light-filled display of her naked buns filling their eyes with ever-renewed disbelief as they asserted their absolute power over her. No husband or father was in sight for this girl of about 20 years old, just her fathomless despair as she cried and went on with her empty threats.

A third ponytail girl was nearby, this one kept kneeling on a chair in her striking beauty, where her chestnut hair gave a heavenly contrast with her Yankee-white complexion, while the wonders of her legs and feet kept feeding the men's stiff cocks around her. A forest of stiff black cocks...

The men saw Albert Mpoku; they recognized him instantly and hailed him as "Colonel Sir" or simply "hello, boss" for the ones who forgot military discipline amid their priceless joy that kept their beige uniforms sweaty and their cocks full of spewing joy.

A civilian was presently right in the act of pressing the ponytail girl's butt with both hands! The girl quietly wept, absolutely broken as the Congolese dweller of Léopoldville kneaded her Yankee flesh, for this chestnut-haired girl was clearly related in some way to those two others and Albert had little doubt she also spoke English.

"American, aren't you?" the self-appointed Colonel told the weeping girl in English with a thick French accent, smiling a mile wide as he kissed her head and took a full whiff of her hair. "Wow! You smell good, Yankee pussy! Well, young lady, enjoy my men! This doesn't happen every day! You're a very lucky tourist to be getting these perks!"

As he spoke, the civilian man behind her kneeling figure had taken his jutting cock out of his red-brick suit and was deeply absorbed in an act of pure domination that consisted of using his dark brown cock to tap the girl's snow-white butt and enjoy the smacking softness of her foreign skin; each tap a most shocking diplomatic incident. They had her lowering her head so her butt was made more protruding for a more complete humiliation and a better view on her perfect moons, marred by that mud-brown tapping batt.

And as he smiled, the man took his weapon to good use and forced the ponytail girl to groan as he violated her pussy and grabbed her pristine waist, and he forced her little feet to feel the wool of his lowered trousers as he began to pound her on the very chair she was forced to remain kneeling on, at just the right penetrative height for the average Congolese man.

The "Colonel" followed the strokes and the forceful butt-bouncing event to its rightful conclusion where the Yankee girl was made more Congolese with heavy shots of local semen under the man's delighted groan, a final one that accompanied his act of clutching the sore crease of her hips as he ejaculated, his wide eyes and wide-open mouth filled with the utter disbelief of fucking a white girl, and a strikingly beautiful one!

"Such a sweet revenge against those pigs who had raped my sister when she was still too young for any of this" the man thought as he blissfully shot the last drops of his burst.

Albert saw his young cousin, who was still wearing the white jacket of his pool-side steward's uniform, but now comically naked from the waist down. He was right in the act of resting his impressive erection on the buttocks of that same chestnut-haired ponytail girl, the Yankee one who was so strikingly beautiful! Luck cousin! She was kept kneeling on her chair, her butt protruding and her figure parallel to the table, so any man who wished could also take her mouth as the soldiers sensed she was way too terrified to even think of biting, and thus she had quite a lot of semen on her face, feeling unfathomably ashamed for being raped by Negroes, men any respectable restaurant, hotel or diner refused to serve in her home country.

Albert's cousin offered a double biceps pose, ignoring the fact he was still clothed above his waist, before tapping LaVerne's Yankee-white buttocks with his stiff cock and screaming, "Yepeee, we got them!" and he plunged his cock inside the very girl he had served drinks on the pool side the day before, watching her in a bikini and daydreaming he could have her, and now, now...

The half-naked steward sounded like an absolute baboon as rivers of slobber dripped down his open mouth and on LaVerne's moons while he frantically violated her, learning the erotic length of her butt crack and anything else that had lain hidden underneath her bikini as he even accelerated the baboon-grunting frenzy and felt the distending near-pain in his cock, inside her, and the accidental touch of her feet against his bare legs electrified him and caused him to pass his edge and with a loud screaming statement, the steward literally died of joy inside LaVerne, his jaw loose and his legs even looser as he shot angry bolt upon angrier bolt with such insane satisfaction and relief! Yes, her name was LaVerne and he would always remember her by how big his load was inside her. Humongous.

Civilians off the nearby boulevard had joined the troops in gang-raping the white tourists side by side with most of the male hotel staff. The restaurant was crowded and reeked with sweat and musk of the tropical kind. It was a royally beautiful act of collective fury, the release of years and decades of pent-up frustration and injustices that had added up. All of it was released in that one burst of a crowd rape at the expense of any white girl unfortunate enough to get caught in this spot. And nothing could be done to save them.

Cock-satisfied Negroes now started to relax and chill while watching their fellow soldiers go at it in their never-ending victory while they drank a stolen banana beer or cognac and smoked a cigarette. No need for ashtrays. The floor was already quite soiled and dirty anyway.

***

Caterina Valente was indeed there. All too much in there. Kept in a bent-over position amid far too many jungle-brown hands, amid more men she ever had in her consensual life, and every one of them a Negro. It was the dark version of her fantasy that had taken an all-too-real shape. They kept feeding cocks for her pussy and for her mouth as well!

The Swiss man she had signed an autograph for only days before was witnessing her crowded debasement with a raging and shameful erection. He had successfully hidden his daughter in his fifth-floor room and had been back in the lobby to seek and save Caterina and take her to his room when the soldiers caught him and beat the living crap out of him. A real unlucky break! He had been so close of being alone with her!

And there he was with broken teeth and one eye swollen shut, both hands tied up behind him as he helplessly watched and took a ghastly, secret delight in watching the relentless pounding of her full buttocks against no shortage of willing Negroes, who were always all too happy to fill her up, while her mouth remained filled with a juicy brown cock, and it was often a massive one!

The Swiss man would never un-see the big black cigar Caterina was forced to smoke by a young soldier who followed his Sergeant's instructions and kept her jaw pinched so she couldn't really bite! And he took his pleasure until the great Caterina Valente was forced to swallow the generous load from the soldier boy who had grown up in the remote village of a Kongo tribe before joining the military to seek adventure.

Adventure she did find! Caterina couldn't believe THIS was happening to her. And it kept happening without any sign of ending. She was so sore everywhere that she forgot how much pain was adding up within her. Her sad and dark unholy memories kept being brought back up to the surface of her thoughts with each stroke she received. She was fighting to breathe with her mouth always filled by a rancid-smelling lump of hard meat and the painful clutching was so painful at her hips! This came with the ever-renewed pounding she took from behind with that proverbial pair of hot hands clamming with sweat as they held the crease of her hips so they could bang her better!

If only she could speak! She'd tell them she won't bite! She wasn't that dumb! No need to pinch her jaw so painfully! Tears rolled down and kept rolling down her pretty face as she took pounding upon pounding, both ends at one as they utterly barbecued her for their own delight. It was going to be weeks and weeks until she could sing again and her confused mind was already fishing for reasons or some made-up story as to why she was going to cancel her Canadian tour.

Was it being surrounded by their musk, by their hands or by their grunts? What was the most abhorrent for her? All of it at once! The worst was the constant fear of being ass-raped again. She would never forget the pain and it was still irradiating and throbbing inside her butt, and those men kept bouncing her bum like there was no tomorrow in an act they clearly enjoyed greatly.

Caterina felt the hard tiled floor under her feet and this reminded her she was barefoot and Eve-naked amid all those Negroes. It was so humiliating! She'd rather be gang-raped by a bunch of unwashed Russians, although those African men did smell relatively good. Rancid with a whiff of je-ne-sais-quoi in their cocks, and the secret bitch within her found some morbid curiosity in appraising the taste of their semen. There was no shortage of semen fed to her and besides, she was given no choice in the matter. She had to keep sucking those Kongo cocks! While taking them from behind too.

This is how Sergeant-Major Albert Mpoku found her. Finally he had found her! Gracing the chaos with her presence! With Caterina Valente, even a sordid gang-rape took an air of preposterous glamour. She clearly didn't belong there with the likes of him, and yet the paleness of her skin offered a strikingly harmonious contrast against the troops.

At last! At last! He was seeing Caterina Valente in the nude! Oh, how did he regret not having partaken in the initial act of her forced undressing!

But he made it up to Caterina! As soon as the back-end soldier boy and the civilian inside her mouth had let go their spunk and given her a renewed blast of Congolese cream, Albert Mpoku had his hands on her. At last!

He fell on his knees and pressed the side of his big brown face against the soft cushions of Caterina's buttocks! As he kept a forceful hold on her supple waist, the knelt-down Colonel gave long, passionate tongue strokes as he licked and covered those white buttocks with slobber, letting Caterina feel how much he had been wanting her since he saw her on the stage in that music-hall.

Since Caterina was now standing as tall as her five-foot-two frame would allow, a young hotel employee happened to be right there in front of her, and she felt the hot enclosing of his thick lips around her right areola as he engulfed that tit in his mouth, and she confusedly recognized the elevator boy as she felt the twirling of his tongue around her nipple while the fat, middle-aged Negro continued the passionate adoration of her butt with tongue strokes galore! Albert Mpoku licked her bottom with as much glee and pleasure as if she were made of the best vanilla ice cream in the world! All this was happening amid a circle of Negroes in uniform or street clothes, most of whom were masturbating as they watched the sensual drama.

Albert couldn't believe he was really licking the butt of Caterina Valente! He felt the movement of her disgust and shame and humiliation as he "painted" her flesh with extra layers of fervent slobber! Her buttocks were soft to the touch, sensually yielding as a girl's flesh ought to, and yet those slabs of female meat were full moons from years of much dancing since her childhood. Her bottom was even more gorgeous than he had anticipated! And she smelled like European heaven! Fading vanilla and suave skin salt.

He couldn't hold it any longer. He had to stick his cock inside her!

Like a madman, he stood up and turned her around, and the next thing Caterina knew, she was in his arms and he was deeply kissing her! Albert Mpoku kissed her like there was no tomorrow! As if she was the very last girl he was ever going to kiss. What Caterina hated the most in this, is the flickers of pleasure she felt from it... Being in those Negro arms and feeling so warm! Almost as if this were protecting her from further harm! He was harm itself!

She did her utmost to turn away, but his arms were strong! Too strong. This also added to her unwilling pleasure as he kept up his thick-lips pressure on her. She even felt his tongue sticking out and caressing the thinness of her lips! She wanted to yell and curse at him in Italian, but she couldn't speak under his pressing kiss. She also felt his hands where he cupped her butt with urgent force!

He presently lifted her like nothing! Carrying her. The confused, dense pack of men moved along with them. After another stretch of kissing time, the forced girl became aware she was sitting on a table, where he still held her buns, his lips sealed against hers. Amid a Capharnaum of jeers, cheers and catcalls and whistles! She felt jungled! It was so crushingly humiliating! With unwanted notes of erotic pleasure. She felt angry at herself upon realizing that a tiny part within herself actually felt curious to feel this kissing man inside her.

The penetration did come.

Albert Mpoku had the pleasing surprise to feel the comeback of his vigour. Taking a step back and letting the nearest soldier boys lay their hands on her and kiss her breasts and lick her face where she sat on that table, the Colonel in power rubbed Caterina's lovely feet against the growing comeback of his cock, and he kept rubbing the end of her foot against it until he was as hard as a mountain gorilla. Rutting and grunting!

"Oh, Caterina! I have been dreaming of this!" Albert Mpoku said as he took a commanding step forward and guided himself inside her dark-hairy pussy, closing his eyes and feeling its wet tightening around him as he grabbed her butt again and began to pound her, his pudgy face right against the nape of her neck as he bounced her butt on that table and she began to whimper with each of his strokes, held and groped by those men who stuck to her like flies on honey, their hands stinking like turds to her civilized nostrils! She didn't want to admit to herself that they actually smelled nice.

Hugging her and holding her buttocks, Colonel Mpoku revelled in this close vicinity to her face, his flat nose lost in her long hair, which flowed in unison with his strokes and lost him in its scent as he kept bouncing her on the table she sat on, his big colonial hands powerfully holding the ever-bouncing moons of her bottom, his fingers deep into her yielding, fleshy softness where those full moons kept shockingly gracing that same table where she had had coffee with his Majesty King Baudouin only days before.

She heard the Colonel's grunts so disgustingly near her, and she felt his hot breath against her neck! He loved to see the lobe of her ear from so God-damned close and his high pleasure was now surging in a titanic wave! It was going to be a MASSIVE load of ejaculated pleasure! Oh, oh shit! It was coming! Big and unstoppable! Like the assaulting waved of Congolese mutineers toppling the colonial system! Beating up white men at those road checkpoints and pulling those wives and daughters out of their Citroens before ripping their blouses and skirts off them and making them taste the power and the heat of their colonial cocks!

Caterina's German-girl scent and the Italian-girl sounds of her whimpers engulfed the Congolese Sergeant-Major while her head-bobbing lingered on, never stopping but now taking a quieter pace as the man clearly wanted to make his fun last...

Time stops and Caterina gets a close-up view where his shoulder pad displays five white chevrons plus one six-pointed star informing her he's actually an Adjudant, the Belgian-colonial equivalent of a German Feldwebel, the leader of a platoon, and she moans out wild as the wicked notion of getting platoon-raped by Negroes hits her square in the face and she sort of squeals and hugs her own rapist with her arms and legs as she feels her own squirting against his throbbing cock!

Caterina feels weightless as she orgasms amid her rape. The man twitches inside her... She hates herself for allowing herself to become such a tramp! She must not! It's a matter of dignity! Too late! Dignity?! What does it mean now?

"a-hhaaAA YES!! YESSS!!! A-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHRRR Uuuuuuuughgh, Caterina--AAAAaahhh..." the Colonel uttered as he exploded inside her pussy with unbridled force!

Unstoppable, his massive bolts erupted out of him and gave another cultural clash inside the famous singer! Forcing her to relive her nightmare of so long ago as that disgustingly ugly and fat middle-aged man relieved himself all too deep inside her, his hands clutching her buttocks so hard it hurt! His finger sunk into her flesh as he pressed kisses upon kisses on her neck, even gently biting the lower part of her ear!

"Ahhh, Caterina! I love you!" Albert Mpoku blurted out as he remained inside her, sweating all over her and keeping her unwilling beauty inside the tropical heat of his clammy arms. And she had to admit it. He did smell nice with just the right amount of cologne.

"How do you like this, white bitch?" a soldier yelled at her as he plucked one strand of her raven hair to keep it as a souvenir from that famous singer who got gang-raped by soldiers in Congo.

TO BE CONTINUED.

Note: Constructing a chapter... I wanted it to be about the collective gang-rapes in the restaurant, and more specifically about Caterina's ordeal. It was clear to me that this chapter would end with a key scene where Sergeant-Major Mpoku rapes her. At last! The hugging position is a lovely one! When you're this close to the girl, her scent absolutely engulfs you!

[Lucius]

Fine new chapter, I think I enjoy the Valente parts most.

Amid a Capharnaum of jeers, cheers and catcalls and whistles!

I've learned a new word today, must be a borrowing from French. At least it's absent from the Oxford English Dictionary.

[HistBuff]

Fine new chapter, I think I enjoy the Valente parts most.

Amid a Capharnaum of jeers, cheers and catcalls and whistles!

I've learned a new word today, must be a borrowing from French. At least it's absent from the Oxford English Dictionary.

Yes, Caterina Valente was an extremably rapeable star back in those days. This is another fine example that I don't need a girl to be 18 to make the story enjoyable. You even prefer a 29-year-old Caterina to the 18-year-old Katyusha!

Capharnaum is indeed borrowed from French and it's actually used in spoken Canadian French. I certainly wouldn't use it in a professional setting, but here with the context, you get the meaning easily. Very much a synonym for "chaos" or "confused mess".