Red Sunset

[HistBuff]

Chapter 18: The Flogging

Captain Sidorov's thoughts...

I attached my footsteps to the General's and walked out of the mayor's mansion as if I was one of his aides. The Major of our regiment also followed, along with the handsome Lieutenant commanding the light infantry company where I served as an unofficial supernumerary advisor. The first reason was a shared sense of curiosity as to what this court martial was about. The second reason appeared in front of me, in this bright morning sun, in the form of a neatly pretty young woman that looked tall and majestic in her saffron dress with long brown hair that fell like cascades of warm light under that sun.

Nadja. As usual, she was with her eunuchs, four muscular Turks dwarfing her with their large frames and wearing colourfully red outfits of Ottoman folklore that looked grotesquely out of place here in Yekaterinburg. Mahmoud their leader looked at me and my hand hoovering near my holstered Nagant. I saw the fear in his eyes and relished it! The eunuch had seen me shoot. As long as I was with the General and armed, I had nothing to fear from this young witch whose breasts kept tantalizing me as perky shapes hidden by her sunlit dress, under a corset I had never seen either. And yet I knew what her vagina felt like. Sometimes, I almost liked her.

I offered her a jeering grin as I walked past her, walking after the General and along the other officers, looking only briefly at her and those breast shapes I coveted so much it was now like an opium. The General had only nodded at her in a cold way, probably also taking note of this whorish looseness of her hair. He clearly didn't like her very much. And it was clear she loved to stand there and tantalize all men present, knowing no one would dare touch the Colonel's daughter.

As I walked away, I caught sight of the hobos and beggars who had nearly spent the whole night waiting for their chance to come inside the house and do what they please with the mayor's daughters. It was the usual dregs you'd find in any large city. Former soldiers maimed and/or disfigured for life; old men who'd sweep the street and beg for a living; sick men who had been deemed too sane to be in a madhouse; vagrants, etc. All of them ugly and wearing filthy clothes that should have been thrown away a couple of years ago. Most of them old enough to be grandfathers. All with the same light of mad lust in their eyes.

There was a temptation to go back inside and watch the unthinkable orgy, but I had already seen enough of such unthinkable scenes to be able to picture exactly what was going to happen and how, without even being there to see it. It would be a wild rush and perhaps fist-fights to see who would be the first man inside the mayor's younger daughter and her sister. The mother would be the acceptable alternative. The other wives and young ladies would also get their taste of a hobo's stinking intimacy and hear the vulgar grunting and jeering.

If they had some sense of style, which I doubted they had, they would run their dirty paws all over Yelizaveta's naked charms and Ekaterina's, committing those sensual curves to the memory of their touch; they would take the time to gently press those white breasts and hold these soft contours with their hands so they would enjoy the stark contrast between the genteel skin and the dirt of their hands; they would take the time to lick and kiss the young ladies everywhere, even their feet. And only then they would imprison them in the caressing prison of their grunting frames.

I heard the screams as I walked further away and recognized Ekaterina's broken voice. It had long turned husky. The loud acclaim and the vulgar jeering took possession of the mansion and I knew that those dregs of the city had no sense of style at all. They would immediately grab the daughters and rape them from behind, possibly deep inside the ass, like the bunch of no-good vagrants they were. They would drink all the vodka without the style to pour some of it on the young ladies. No style!

***

We didn't have to walk long. The court martial was set in the same plaza where yesterday's festivities had happened. The Commander-in-Chief was a man in his forties, with very short hair and a stern face with a long straight nose, wearing a khaki uniform with a Navy white peak-cap, imperial with three eagles on his shoulder pads. One could wonder what an Admiral was doing so far inland. His collar was decorated with a solemn white cross, perhaps bestowed by the Czar himself in better days, and there was much strength in his face. Another white cross above his left chest pocket confirmed he was a long-serving officer.

He sat on a cushion chair near a long table where three Generals already sat along with one Colonel. Before them stood thirteen men in a sorry line; men with faces cast down and holding their garrison caps in hands that were forced close together by bonds biting at their wrists. Men under guard, to be judged and sentenced.

Then I saw two noble-women, who stood by among another group of officers. I trembled as I grew aware that these two ladies were known to me; and I couldn't believe my eyes! There stood Countess Hendrikoff, shielded from the sun under the same wide hat I had seen her wearing when I first met her two months before in Tobolsk. She was just as lady-like as then, perhaps even more knowing what she had gone through. I still vividly remembered the noble-woman whose dress was savagely torn off her body by vodka-drinking Lithuanians. I especially remembered the very moment when those men made me have her first on the deck of the Russ, while Romanov daughters were being violated in their cabins.

I had every reason to tremble and fear for my life when the Countess suddenly looked at me, her face white, something unfathomable in her eyes. I was doomed! But she remained silent. Her unspeakable shame seemed to protect me.

At her side stood Tamara. Tamara as she was in Tobolsk, when she was still inviolate. There was no mistaking the troubled expression in her face, which blushed to a crimson as she recognized me; and then she looked down at the plaza's asphalt. Her dress and the matching rose ribbon that highlighted her raven hair, all of it bright under the sun... It was her indeed. With her hair tightly styled in a high arrangement that said she was of a noble birth and nothing bad could happen to her. She was now all-powerful, protected by the White army and one word from her would send me in front of a fire squad.

Once the Major-General had joined the three other generals sitting on the court, Admiral Alexander Kolchak spoke, his voice filling the air:

"Here stand in front of you, Generals of the Court, thirteen men who have committed all sorts of acts on the person of Baroness Tamara von Greifswald Palhen. They treated her like a... Well, you know what sort of things they did. So here they stand in front of you, to be judged and be sentenced as they deserve to!"

The Admiral's gaze met mine and I heard his voice like in a dream: "You, Captain, you will step forward and plead in their defense!"

Why me?!

I almost said it aloud! But I did step forward and saw the terror in each of these thirteen boys. They were all farm boys who had committed the crime of being at the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong person. Since there were no negroes in this army to bear our collective blame, the boys had to be white.

"Walk faster, Captain! From the way you hesitate, I can see you seem surprised to be wearing those shoulder pads! I know a low-birth man when I see one! Yes, this will be neat, very neat indeed to have those peasants being defended by one of their own! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

The officers all started to laugh at me, filling me with rage! I swear to God I was tempted to draw my revolver and shoot the Admiral. He sat about fifteen yards away. Point-blank range for me. It would have been quick and easy. But I had one hope that kept me from sacrificing myself; the hope of seeing my wife again. So I stood tall and proud, all six feet of me, and said nothing. My gaze perchance met the Countess's and there I saw it. Love. In her eyes.

I became transfixed, as if turned to stone! How could she still be in love with me?

The Admiral pulled me out of my reverie: "Do the pigs in your farm have eaten your tongue, Captain? Speak up! How do you plead, guilty or not guilty?"

"Please, Sir!" the Major-General said in his Czech accent. "Please, Sir, do not mock this officer! I heard much praise about him and his skill with his side-arm! This is Ivan Sidorov, the very man who represented Russia in the Olympic Games in Paris! He's in one of my light companies."

"Not guilty, Sir! I say they are not guilty!" I bellowed, emboldened by the Bohemian Count's words spoken in my support. Tamara would suddenly speak up and this would be my last moment. This pleading of mine would be my swan's song.

"Not guilty! How insolent!" the Admiral sneered. "All right! Proceed!"

The Major leading the prosecution was clearly a born aristocrat who cast me a stare filled with contempt, although he was a great deal younger than myself. Perhaps thirty years old, and owing his rank to his birth and nothing else. He had no doubt spent the Great War in palaces, possibly a young officer near General Tatischev. And I was now serving in the army fighting to perpetuate such injustice where the born man was usually higher than the man of merit! Serving under an Admiral who openly mocked me because of my own birth.

"The case is very clear, Generals of the Court!" the young Major said, his finger pointing at the thirteen men. "They have defiled the person of a Baroness. A Baroness! With their filthy hands! And I say they must hang!"

Those words were said after some simple facts had been established. Those men had gone to a brothel where the old hag owning the premises had referred them to a girl named the Gypsy, saying she could tell their fortune and do a great many other things.

"She didn't cost all that much, Sir!" pleaded one of the boys. "She was cheap and how could we have possibly know she was noble?"

"Shut up!" the Major replied. "Silence! Don't you speak about the Baroness using the word cheap! I say you must hang! All thirteen of you!"

"But this ain't our fault! We went to the brothel and bought a girl! Where's the crime?" said another boy.

"Shut up!"

"And she did behave like a strumpet!"

"She was clearly used to get treated like this, Sir! She even said she was enjoying it and..."

"Shut up! Shut up!" the Major shouted, his face white with rage.

"Order! Order!" the Admiral bellowed. "Now, lets hear what our peasant Captain has to say for his peasant boys!"

I pretended not having heard and spoke my plea:

"Generals of the Court, these men stand before you for a crime that has not been said aloud, so I'll say it. Rape. The prosecution wants to hang them for rape, isn't it right, Major? (The young Major nodded.) Well, they did not commit rape!"

"What?!" the Major ejaculated along with the Admiral himself and all generals except the Czech Major-General and the one Colonel.

"No rape was committed," I went on. "There was no rape because these men have paid money, rubles, for the services of a girl known as the Gypsy. They bought the services of a prostitute so they could, uh, enjoy her services for the night. And they did not know who she was."

"So you think they should be set free?!" the Major blurted out, looking at me with a face stupid with contempt and bias.

"Yes, I think they should be freed right away! No crime was committed and a great many of us have done a lot worse since yesterday."

"But they must hang!" the Major spat out. "They Must Hang! They have gang-raped a Baroness, treated her like a whore! They must hang! And hang twice!"

"I forgive them!" said a girl. Tamara! It was her! What a beautiful voice she had! What a beautiful rape she made!

She came forward, looking like some Greek princess in an antique tragedy as she pleaded for boys who had debased her. "I forgive them! This wasn't them! These boys would be living a peaceful country life if it weren't for the war. They would be happy to live their country life under the quiet rule of nobles, if it weren't for the war! Free to dream under the sun! Free to smile at girls and take a wife to be happy with! No, they are not guilty. War! War is the guilty party."

"So, lady Baroness," the Major said, taking off his peak-cap as he spoke to Tamara, "so you say we must let them go free?!"

"I didn't say that!" the tragic princess replied. Oh, how noble she looked as she stood there, majestic and almost looking tall in spite of her small size; the rose of her dress so bright under the sun that she looked like a radiant goddess of Spring!

"I didn't say that," she said, her voice loud and profound. "I say it would be such a pity to execute such handsome boys! Killing them would make the world a less happy place; it would leave widows or perhaps future brides who would remain without a husband. These boys are so full of life! Let them live! Yes, yes, let them live so they can f... so they can fight again for our mother Russia! Seeing them flogged will be satisfaction enough for me and for the memory of my departed father, bless his soul!"

"A flogging! That's a wonderful idea!" said one of the generals of the court, a cackling old man who clearly ate a bit too much.

"Yes, a good old flogging using a knout!" the one Colonel ejaculated, his thin flegmatic face like a flame of sunlit skin under his cast-behind peak-cap.

"Yeah, let's give them a few lashes and let's have lunch! With vodka, and girls!" added the Czech Major-General while winking at me.

"Twelve lashes of knout!" Tamara suddenly exploded, filling the sky with her heated voice, and she was sweating with excitement oozing out of her eyes. "Twelve! One for each man who... who bought me and thirteen cannot be given, for this would bring ill-luck."

***

The case was settled for twelve lashes for each man. To be given by thirteen men chosen by the Admiral himself for their brawn and the strength in their arms. Admiral Alexander Kolchak was far from pleased, so he meant for each man to feel the knout as deep and hard in his skin as possible. Indeed, the knouts turned out to be special models with the usual tongue of rawhide leather at the end of a rod, but these whipping tongues were studded with iron! Each lash would tear some skin clean off! Twelve suddenly became heavier.

The sentence was carried out about noon. All boys were stripped naked. I could tell the Baroness was taking delight in what she was seeing. The Countess was positively horrified, albeit she stoically remained at the side of Tamara.

Thousands of Czechs were assembled and I was there too. Happy to be standing in the fourth or fifth row and safe enough from the Countess, who could turn against me in spite of her feelings. I was scared of those knouts! But I was fascinated by the Baroness! Her lithe figure looked so powerful! Like a lovely little troubling Queen on a chess-board when the wind of the battle just turned in her favour.

And I noticed something very peculiar at the hem of her long rose dress. Her feet. She was barefoot on this sand! Barefoot near that place where scaffolds had been hastily erected for the flogging. Many men must have noticed. The barefoot Baroness seemed to fill the air with a savage will to go and grab her and have a long gang-fuck inside her! In broad daylight. Every man cheered as the first knout lash fell on bare skin!

The men screamed pitifully, shocked by how painful this one lash was. Given by a strongly built man with all his might.

This was just one lash.

Eleven more followed. Each one taking more skin and blood off the men's backs.

Tamara nodded along with each new lash, her face tilted down as she looked at the flogging with a slight smile. Her bare feet on the warm sand, a dignified figure in her long dress, the noble maiden was clearly enjoying every second of the thirteen men's ordeal. While the Countess stood by her side, her face white under her wide-brim straw-pale hat. The sun made the blood shine like ruby at each strike from the knout.

The place was filled with the men's screams. The Admiral smiled, his face growing more feral with each knout strike.

Once the ordeal was over, the boys were dragged away and into a house where they were treated. The crowd dispersed. The Admiral took the Countess and the Baroness to a lunch party to which I was clearly not invited.

I stood there, alone, transfixed as I watched the desert spot where the troubling Baroness had stood barefoot. I wanted so much to fuck her! But she was now out of my reach.

An iron grip imprisoned my right wrist, then the other as I became aware that my Nagant was pulled out of its holster. Then one painful punch cut my breath and my legs collapsed under me.

Mahmoud stood above me, smiling. Another Turk also grinned as he showed me the Nagant he had just taken from me, yet again. Standing between the two other Turks, Nadja smiled, smug in her sense of safety, flaunting the shapes of her bosom in her saffron dress. The sunny apparition of a witch who always caught me off-guard.

***

I was taken to a small wood away from the outskirts of Yekaterinburg. I knew what was to follow. Nadja would once more ride on top of me while keeping her garments on. But she had other plans.

Mahmoud was holding a knout!

I began to panic when the Turks bared my torso and tied me to a sturdy birch. I was to be flogged! With an iron-studded knout.

Nadja spoke, or rather snarled:

"So you think you can mock me in public and get away with it? Mahmoud! Strike!"

The pain was unimaginable when the first strike fell! I screamed the loudest I had ever screamed. Birds flew away. The warmth on my back told me I was already profusely bleeding. The second strike fell, even worse! Like a thong of red-hot iron!

"I will show you what it costs to slight me! Change up with Mustafa! A fresh arm to strike harder... Now Mustafa, strike!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

After the fourth or fifth lash, the Turk stopped. It was only to give the bloody knout to the third eunuch. There was movement around me. A rifle shot tore the air.

"Mahmoud! Nooo!"

Nadja was kneeling down on Mahmoud's fallen figure, crying as she covered his face with kisses. Other shots rang through the air and not one of the three other eunuchs was missed. They each fell on the bright green ferns, their colourful Ottoman costumes making them look like fantastic lead soldiers that had met their fall.

Then, all of a sudden, there was a voice I knew. The Czech Major-General! Soldiers presently filled the place. Mahmoud died while Nadja was grabbed and forced to stand by a pair of tall grinning soldiers from the light company. I knew them! Anton and Oleg, both of whom who hated the Colonel's daughter, like two thirds of the regiment.

"At last! We caught you!" the General said. While I was quickly untied and given some ointment for my wounds, I saw the General approach Nadja, with the handsome First Lieutenant standing by and smiling, his trousers tensed by an erection and his eyes filled with mischief.

"It was a girl who said the Captain was in trouble here," said one soldier. "Where is she now?"

"Yes, a girl saved him," said another Czech. "I could swear it was Anastasia Romanova, I've seen her once. But how is this possible? The Admiral thinks that the Czar was murdered with his entire family. They even killed the pet dogs!"

Anastasia? Dead?! And she...

A sharp gun-shot tore the air.

The General had just forced-kissed Nadja, whose arms were restrained between soldiers as she screamed with rage. The General was groping one of her breasts through her dress when a second shot quickly followed the first one and he fell like a sack of potatoes, blood on his face.

"Sniper! Take cover!" the Lieutenant ordered.

"Where do you think you're going, bitch!" a Sergeant barked as he grabbed Nadja as she tried to run away. He lifted her and was almost behind a tree when a third shot rang and he fell. I saw that the bullet had gone through his head. So the story was true! Nadja did have a sniper watching over her!

"Give me my pistol and give me cover! I saw where the shots are coming from!" I said. I was going to get revenge!

Taking a precise note of that tall tree where the sniper was hidden, I took off and ran into the forest, shirtless with my bleeding back hurting me, but I was going to get this son of a bitch! He had killed the General, and now it would be a hanging matter for Nadja as accessory. If he was a sniper worth his salt, he'd have to climb back down that tree and either run away or take a new position. Shots rang through the air. The soldiers were giving me a good covering fire as I ran in a sweeping arc through the woods. If I was fast enough, I'd catch him at the foot of that tree!

Indeed! I was lucky enough to see his small figure still climbing down that tall tree with a scoped rifle strapped on his shoulder. He was, sobbing?! Of course he was! His mistress was taken and there was nothing he could do! Nothing except run to avoid being captured himself.

I caught him by the ass and then took him by the waist and hurled him off that tree trunk with a strength that was multiplied by the rush of this life-or-death situation. This ass was no man's ass!

As I kicked her in the side, there was a sharp groan that could only come from a girl! The sniper was a she! Indeed, the fall of her soft cap set free a luxuriant profusion of long black hair.

Soon after, I was pushing her in front of me, her arms tied up behind her while I kept pushing her through the wood and picking her up every time she fell. Her scoped rifle in my hand as the all-important murder weapon for her trial.

Two men had been shot dead. A Sergeant, and the Major-General. So much for his dream of late-marrying a peasant girl in his native Bohemia.

The handsome Lieutenant stood where Nadja was sitting between soldiers; she was crying as she kept looking at Mahmoud's corpse. Two of the Turks had been bayoneted through the throat, no doubt after having been found still breathing.

"What do we do now, Sir? But what?!" he said as I emerged from a copse while pushing the captured sniper in front of me.

"Holy cow! She's a pretty thing!" a soldier exclaimed.

"We got a new fuck doll here! Look at her long black hair! Oh, God! The pleasure of stripping her out of this little khaki outfit! Ohh, Old Church! What a pretty little ass she got there!"

The little sniper wept pitifully as she was grabbed by a few soldiers who lifted her off the floor and laughed as she tried to run, her boots meeting nothing but thin air was she began to cry and beg the men to please let her go!

"I know what we'll do, Lieutenant! We rape both girls and take them to the Admiral for another court martial! But let's have our fun first!"

As I spoke, I went to Nadja and ordered the soldiers to make her stand in front of me. The little sniper cried out as men assaulted her uniform, and soon the sun rays fell on the fantastic display of her breasts! They were small, but looked pleasingly full on her small frame; her nipples of a radiant brown waiting to be sucked. Her despaired screams filled the air as she was promptly forced down until she lay on her stomach and her trousers were promptly pulled down her thighs, and so we all saw how soft and white her butt-cheeks were!

"Let her watch as the fun begins!" I ordered, pointing at Nadja. A first soldier was already on top of the sniper, who yelped when the penetration occurred.

After a quick, grunting rape, the soldier relieved himself inside the sobbing girl and another man, this one a sturdy Corporal, took over.

"You will get it deep in the ass! You Will Regret killing our General! No escape--AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh yeah! Deep! Deep!"

"NAA AAAAAYYYAAAAAAAAeeeAAAANNNHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" shrieked the poor girl!

"Shut up and do your job!" the Corporal snarled between his teeth as he brutally entered her rectum and the girl kept wailing and screaming as her anus was properly ravaged.

Filled with lust, I turned to Nadja and kissed her by force! With rage and with the satisfaction of knowing she was now helpless and I was finally going to see her naked! My back still hurt, but it was a trifle next to the gigantic load I was going to give this witch! The sniper's anal whimpers were a fitting background for the act as I began to tear her saffron dress and had the joy of hearing her scream and protest. AT LAST!

"Nooooo! No, please! Sidorov! Noooo... I'm so sorry! So sorry! But noooo! Nnooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

I made short work of her dress-top while the pair of grinning soldiers held her arms. There was nothing she could do! Her corset was a fancy model of pale beige fabric. I heard her plaintive wail as I strongly pressed her sides and out of the hooks went the busks! The corset was opened and discarded.

The last thin layer of her petticoat did not stand a chance. One loud tearing sound and a scream later, Nadja's breasts were looking at me.

"At last!" I uttered as I drank all the light from Nadja's breasts! I loved how the forest light fell on them! Loved how her disarrayed hair fell on her shoulders! Loved how she begged and pleaded! Loved the humiliation for her! Fear was in her eyes now!

Everything slowed down like in a dream when my kisses met her pale nipples and my tongue took possession of her areolas. The joy I felt when I pressed her tits in my hands, while watching the panic in her eyes, could only be conjectured. Nearby, a soldier was raping the sniper as she lay naked and spread-eagled, and her voice was now subdued in a rhythmic flow of whimpers.

Most of the men, including the Lieutenant, were waiting for their turn to rape the Colonel's daughter. They all knew how she had persecuted me and knew I deserved to be first with the full benefit of added time.

Soldiers helped me in getting rid of all remaining garments until Nadja lay Eve-naked on the forest ground, the triangle of her hairy cunt an open invitation as I put a finger inside her, then the middle finger and enjoyed the pleasure and freedom of doing all I pleased with her.

"Nooo noo this cannot be happening!" Nadja cried out. "This cannot be happening!"

"Oh, but it sure is!" I replied as I rolled her around and began to kiss her butt! It was quite a round of fun to lick this vast plain of silky skin. I couldn't forget the way she stood in front of the men during the flogging, knowing and enjoying the fact that so many men secretly wanted to fuck her.

Not wanting to keep the Lieutenant and the dozen men waiting, I had her kept on all fours and feverishly freed my hard cock!

"Now Nadja! Now!" I shouted as I sank inside her! Deep and hard! She screamed in pain. I raped her like a savage! Ignoring her scream! Enjoying her distress! Nothing existed now except my hands on her waist and the urgent collisions against her curves! It was soon over. Ooh! The pleasure of my wobbly legs hit hard and left me breathless as ropes upon ropes were angrily spewed out inside her. Deep!

Then came the unfathomable pleasure of watching the Lieutenant enjoy her in the same way, with short nervous strokes as her head fell down on the ground and she took the rest of his fury on her knees and elbows, her protruding buttocks soon wet with vodka as the soldiers mocked her. After the explosion, the Lieutenant gave way for a Corporal, who took his pleasure just as fiercely and he would be followed by seven or eight more men, some of whom gave Nadja the opportunity to deeply understand the pain of being sodomized near her dead eunuchs.

Soon enough, all the men had spent their loads inside Nadja or her sniper. We wanted more! Most of us were already hard again.

The little sniper, with the face of a tomboy, was heavenly beautiful in the nude. There was something that the light made in her pale skin, something in her boyish ass that made a man obsessed with the idea of fucking her and giving her a lot of sperm, all of it nicely completed by that long black hair that had fallen like a dark cascade of death when her soft cap had fallen. She had killed the General and was already as good as dead; so we had to give her a really nice gang-rape since this would be her last fuck.

I found myself kneeling behind her and entering her pussy! I never liked anal rape, so I went at it inside her, hard and good; and since I had already fertilized Nadja, I lasted much longer this time around, which gave me a lot more time to enjoy each new collision against her boyish butt, while enjoying the scent from her ravaged cunt as she seemed to almost enjoy the coitus, from the way she kept quietly whimpering. Submissive. It suddenly struck me that she was young, really young. About as young as Nastya herself was.

And I began to cry as I remembered what the soldiers had said earlier; a girl who was perhaps Nastya had told them where I was before vanishing; and this was how I was saved from a devastating flogging. My back was screaming in burning pain as I kept crying, knowing that Nastya was probably dead. I no longer felt in the mood for sex, but I passed my edge! As I held those boyish buttocks and got hypnotized by the sniper's butt-crack, I erupted out of control in long, delightfully strong ropes of semen!

Three or four more men were waiting their turn to punish the sniper who had shot the General and their Sergeant. Her whimpers turned into frantic groans as the first man raped her ass with unrestrained hatred, while the others encouraged him and promised her that it would get even worse when they'd be owning her. Her shit was going to be hurt bad!

So I was saved by a girl who then vanished. How? Why? There was no explanation.

The reality was, Nadja was finally caught at her own game. I sipped vodka out of a flask as I watched her being enjoyed in different positions, by soldiers who hated her and truly enjoyed the punishment they gave her. I especially loved the part where they lifted her clean off the ground and kept her like a graceful spread-eagled figure between them as they ravaged her again, again and again! With each stroke, her nipples seemed elevated in a dance for the sun whose light bathed the whole scene happening in a clearing, witnessed by silent trees. On whose trunks the satisfied roars and grunts echoed as each next man took his bliss inside Nadja.

Nobody dared take her mouth out of fear she would bite. The fear was even stronger when it came to the naked sniper; she was quite adorable and it was hard to remember that such a pretty brunette with childish-small hands could give death.

I'll confess that at one point, my lust ran away with me to the point where I covered the sniper's feet with slobber, where she was kept on all fours, before masturbating like a grunting lunatic until I gave a pungent load to these dainty feet, totally forgetting what she was as I gave a hot coating of gloss to her tiny heels while going madly obsessed by her earth-dirty soles; such tenderness of skin in a killer! I then madly caressed her butt with both hands, caressing her small curves while landing kisses upon kisses on this small vastness of silky skin. She was as white as death!

Once the scheming witch and her sniper were properly filled up with our sperm, once I had pressed Nadja's breasts until she shrieked out of pain, when the sky would soon turn ablaze with sunset lights, I sealed Nadja's fate.

"We will kill her right here and bring in the sniper!" I suddenly ordered. She shrieked.

"But, Sir, she's the Colonel's daughter!" the Lieutenant objected.

"And this is why we have to kill her! Oh, keep them quiet, will you? We have to kill her and say it was enemy snipers who killed her and the General, and we captured this one! It's the only way to save our necks!"

The Lieutenant and the men knew I was right. The Sergeant who had been shot was well-liked. And all these soldiers hated her. One of them handed me the sniper's rifle while others tied Nadja by her ankles with her wrists tied up behind her.

She screamed and the naked sniper shrieked, "Nadjaa!" when I quietly pressed the trigger and gave Nadja a quick death on her knees. She fell naked amid her rapists. She died while looking at the four dead Turks.

I shot her between the eyes from ten yards, because we would wash her body and get her corpse dressed again, right down to the shoes on her feet, so no one would be puzzled by the absence of blood on her dress. This would be a rare case of head shot, and it would raise no question since the General had been shot through the head as well.

"All this thanks to that girl who vanished! I tell you, Oleg, this was Grand Duchess Anastasia! I saw her once. I always thought she was pretty."

"This can't be! She's dead, Anton! Dead! The Admiral said so!"

[HistBuff]

Chapter 19: Love In The Night

Sümeyye Sidorov's Secret Journal (written in Turkish)

Petersburg, June 2nd

The newspaper-boy is always present in my thoughts! Yesterday morning, I offered him some loukums, those little sugary squares invented in Istanbul by Haci Bekir Effendi back in 1776. He looked astonished and kept looking at me as if I were a ghost! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! He's a good Russian boy, too young to go fight the Czarists. With eyes of such a fascinating ice blue! Ooh, he makes me feel as if I were still his age... and then I feel how old I am. But I know that I would never cross the threshold and betray my marriage. And yet I can't help but feel curious about what it would be like to be intimate with a boy half my age.

I miss Ivan! His touch! The way I feel when he's near... From as long as I can remember, he always made me feel funny! I've always loved him, always will. Oh, such a faithful husband! I can't even think of him being with another girl. Girl! I'm turning thirty-one next December! And yet, I can't get used to thinking about myself as a woman. How vain I am, taking pride in looking so very young for my age! Boys still look at me in the street when I go to the bazaar in the neighborhood where most of the Turks live in Petersburg.

As for the newspaper boy, he shyly nodded and took the two sugary squares I gave him. Spassiba, he quickly said, thank you, with his face blushing as he looked at me with those lovely blue eyes of his. Yes, he was looking at me with a mix of uneasiness and curiosity. He probably never had a girl companion. As for me, I've only ever loved Ivan, and Ivan was already twenty-eight when I first fell in love with him, as a twelve-year-old child! So that must be why I've grown so fond of this boy. I want to know what it's like to be with a boy. And I don't have much time left before the gone-by days turn me into an old woman.

My young sister Sibel is often calling on me, even spending nights at our second-floor apartment of two bedrooms. Since Ivan went missing in action, I've been living alone, so I'm happy to have her company. I was often the one holding her hand in the street when she was little. How time flies! She's already twenty-six. She never married. Once, six years ago, she lived with us in secret because she was pregnant. Then she had a miscarriage and went back to her old place where she worked, and still works for herself as a fortune-teller. Tarots, crystal ball, reading hands; that's her world, and I have to say she has the looks for it too. It seems that her hair is even silkier and blacker than mine! Maybe it's the astonishing number of olives she consumes, from breakfast to dinner!

One morning, she asked me if she could live with me. The reason was her safety. She reads Tarots by herself at her place, alone with her customer. She had several close calls with a man who began taking liberties with her; she's a very pretty girl! I never asked her how she became pregnant, but I'm afraid she was taken by force.

"I know that your husband has left you a Nagant revolver," she said. "You could hide in the next room with it, so I'd feel so much safer! Of course you would share the proceeds with me. The money can get quite good, especially when I give special services to my client!"

I didn't press her about what those special services were, but the expression she used disturbed me. Was Sibel a prostitute?

"No, my beloved Sümeyye, at least not all the way. But you see, whether I reveal a bit of myself or not, there's always an element of risk for my person. Some clients are... insistent, even aggressive and they can easily turn violent if you don't know how to handle them. I insist that a client come alone, but sometimes, he has friends just outside the door; so things can degenerate fast.

Ivan would be furious with her! Sibel is exposing me to a risk from strangers. I should have said no, but some element of curiosity made me say yes. After all, I know how to use a revolver, so the risk isn't that great. But I find that the element of danger makes the whole business pretty exciting!

Sibel brought her things over and two nights later, she received her first customer, a man with grey hair, perhaps as old as sixty springs. I peaked from the dark, through the curtain. Sibel was sitting at the dinner table, which was covered by a dark burgundy table-cloth where the tarots were displayed. From her small height, she commanded the place with her mysterious aura, with her black cat sitting near her, while the old man, wearing the dark bourgeois outfit of a well-off fellow, kept staring at her as her dainty hands moved the cards and she told him his fortune in a most glamorous way. It was an aspect of her I had never seen in the flesh.

She looked like the proverbial gypsy girl, her face looking both young and timeless at the dim light, her dark dress, shawl and hair making it seeming like she was only a face with two moving hands. The old man was horny; I could sense it from a mile.

"Tell me, Sibel, will I soon see the boobs of a young lady?" he asked.

"The cards are telling me you probably will," my sister replied.

"Will she be a gypsy girl, by chance?" the old man said, his smile a grotesque version of what his smiling face used to be decades ago. His expression told me he was foolish enough to think he was still somehow handsome. He clearly wasn't, Allah knows!

"She could be. About twenty years old, noble Sir," Sibel replied. I could tell she had done this many times before.

"How much to see your tits, young lady?"

"Ten rubles, fifteen if you want to touch and kiss them!"

"That's a bit stiff! You ain't sixteen anymore!"

"Thirteen rubles to suck my tits and you'll see, noble Sir, they look and feel much younger than I am!"

"Yes, yes, young lady! You're a small girl, and small titties always look fresh and young! All right, disrobe!"

The old man was panting. My own breathing got harder as I watched the whole deal from behind the curtain, protected by the darkness of the living room. He threw the rubles on the table, amid the tarot cards, while Sibel swiftly removed her shawl and the top of her dress; she wore no corset! She stood from her chair and looked at the old man while flaunting her topless beauty. She indeed looked much younger with those boobs in the nude. It wasn't that they were firm in the brave way they rode high; they looked so smooth and pale with such a small impertinence that it was like travelling a full ten years back in time!

I felt jealous! My own breasts, I think, do not look as nice as Sibel's, even though they are about the same size with nipples of the same Ottoman brown.

As if Sibel's offered breasts were the be-all of his existence, the man came at her and began to kiss her tits while tenderly cupping them. I watched, keeping as silent as I could, but my heart was racing, I was panting! I was soaking wet! This old man was sucking the breasts of my baby sister! She looked like some damsel of a scandalous young age in the arms of some lecherous old man! Something inside me felt like finding out what it would feel like to take such a grotesque old man inside my mouth! Until he'd explode on my bare breasts! Oh, dirty me!

After a while, the old bugger asked for more:

If I give you another twelve rubles, will you completely disrobe yourself so I can kiss you everywhere? You're like an angel!"

"Men are unhappy because they can't appreciate a turn of good fortune! I will not let you see me naked; keep the curiosity alive for another time, noble Sir."

"I can give you fifty rubles if you let me have you on this table! Fifty!!"

"The noble Sir is very generous, but for twelve more, that is a total of twenty-five rubles, I can kneel at your feet, take you in my mouth and let you have your load any way you please! I can swallow it or take it on my tits if you like, even on my face if you prefer..."

"YEs! Yes! I haven't had such a young lady doing this for many long years! Yes!"

"But before, give me your gentleman's word that you will leave as soon as your business is done. I insist!"

"Yes yes, I give you my word!" the old man said as he threw twelve more rubles on the table and undid his trousers almost at the same time!

My jaw dropped as I saw his cock! A respectable size; so straight and proud! I felt strongly drawn to it! It was so tempting! To taste another man for the very first time in my life! The fact he was old and repulsive gave a surprising zest to the whole affair; I was so wet!

Sibel, always topless with her dark dress, knelt down at his feet and promptly took it in her hand. The man began to grunt as she began to massage it, and just as he was asking her to take him inside her mouth, she did just that. Slurping sounds filled the silence along with his grunts, as her pretty head bobbed back and forth and she worked his entire length, keeping a gentle hold at his base and performing a small twisting motion that I took note of for when Ivan would return to me.

"Aaahh yes! Yes! Young lady, I... Ooh yeah! This is so worth it! Hhaaaaa haaa, yes it's soo good..." the old man uttered, clearly approaching his boiling point, while my sister kept insistently working his length with her mouth and tongue, presently firmly massaging his base with her hand! She was skilled! Now I knew why Mother threw her out.

The old man became frantic! He was moaning like a mad horny fellow as he ran his hands through Sibel's dark hair, caressing her head while feverishly calling her young lady, as if repeating a mantra; no wonder a young lady can be such a bliss for an old man whose appearance has gone sour! He could only pay if he wanted some action with a girl like Sibel.

He exploded and let go of a load that was so impressive! He had pulled out of Sibel's mouth and literally showered her with no less than four strong bolts of semen! I pressed my mouth not to scream as I watched the whole thing! And heard his long-sustained groan as he erupted in absolute bliss!

"Thank you, young lady! Until next time," the old man said, taking his stovepipe hat and his long jacket. True to his word, he left at once.

As soon as he was gone, I rushed at Sibel and began to lick her face!

"Sümeyye?! What? What are you doing?! Stop!"

I didn't listen! I kept tasting that semen off her face! It tasted pungent with an old man's salt! The very first time my tongue met the semen from a man other than my husband! I couldn't stop! I was mad! Sibel's face was so pretty! It felt so erotic to remember that moment when her pretty face received the discharge from this old man; erotic, and comically grotesque.

Before I realized what I was doing, I was kissing and caressing Sibel's breasts! She didn't do anything to stop me. Her hands ran all over my head, her fingers through my hair. She was moaning! "Sümeyye... Please, sister! Stop this, I... I... c-can't allow... this..."

But I just kept going! I was mad with lust! Lust for sex with another person than my husband. Even with my own sister! As long as it was with someone nice. The next day, we would never talk about it, but from that moment on, Sibel shared my bed. It felt so warm and nice to have someone to sleep with in this large bed! Sibel's tits were truly lovely and fascinating to kiss. I had no idea I would be doing this with another girl, let alone my sister. All the weirdness of Ivan being perhaps dead made me act as if I were a different person. And besides, doing this with another girl wasn't cheating.

Sibel went to the bathroom, and when she came back, she tried to talk me out of it, but her eyes were filled with curiosity. She suddenly asked me to remove my own garments so she could see my breasts. She said she had always felt jealous of them, that I was the prettier sister. And I said no, it was her! She was a good four years younger!

"Sümeyye, my lawful sister, you get your half of these twenty-five rubles; now, take off all your clothes and lie down on this table. Lie still while I show you a sister's affection, to each and every delightful inch of this body I'm so jealous of! Your husband is a very lucky man! Shame on him if he ever cheats on you!"

My hand trembles as I write how Sibel used her mouth and hands on me. I would never had imagined that the touch of another girl could stir me so much! Maybe it was due to the loneliness I felt, and the dread of thinking Ivan might be worse than just missing. Sibel's tongue got acquainted with my breasts with such gentleness as I lay naked on this table! And I caught myself wishing that the old man would return, having forgotten something and finding us like this! I had forgotten to lock the apartment's door after he left.

Sibel kissed me absolutely everywhere! She positively had done this before with other girls. She would later tell me that some of her clients were in fact women, usually some widow or old woman with money. I was a rare treat for her because I was still young with "Allah forbids soft skin" as she puts it. And when she used her tongue inside me, I sank in my innermost fantasies and moaned as hot and hard as if Ivan was fucking me on this very table, which he often did.

A group of Soviet soldiers came vivid in my mind as Sibel's tongue worked its magic inside me! Handsome boys! Their soft hands on me! All with blond hair and ice-blue eyes; so exotic to my Eurasian eyes! All kissing me and my tits with their clean-shaven face! Their ice-blue eyes filled with fascination over my nakedness! I pictured them fucking me like the strongest champion! On this table. One after the other. Filling me up with angry-sounding grunts! Oh, how that table would creak from their urgent thrusts inside me!

"Yeah yeah yeah, deep inside me! Red cocks!" I moaned while my sister's tongue took me closer to heaven with each new stroke!

These handsome boys! Fucking me, a girl nearly twice their age! And then I fully admitted to myself that my absolute fantasy was to be gang-fucked by Red soldier boys! All of them immorally young! All of them with a hard cock that the laws of physics will allow to sink inside my pussy! And how they would fuck me! Their eyes filled with curiosity as to how my small breasts would move under their impetus! And I would beg them to all take turns inside me; while holding my wrists firmly, as if they were raping me!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE BOYS!!!" I screamed as that tongue took the stroke that made me weightless and bursting with heat! It took me some time to remember where I was and with whom. And then, I realized with a mix of fascinated horror and wonder that I just became immorally intimate with my own sister.

Some weeks later, after a late supper, as I lay in bed with Sibel after we made love again, I had that same dream where a girl told me my husband was all right. This girl carried an air of graceful nobility and had blue eyes filled with merriment mixed with unfathomable sorrow. "Your Ivan will be all right, Mrs. Sidorov, he's alive, but I'm so sad! I've lost my board-game of colorito. I'm so sad, so very sad... Ho, Mrs., would you serve me some strawberries with whipped cream?"

And I would hug this funny-looking girl, as merry as a child and as gloomy as death. A young girl, as short as myself, with chestnut hair that smelled like heaven. Small hands that touched me and moved like an angel. So adorable! Then she was gone. Who was she? But I believed her. Ivan was still alive and one day he would return to me.

***

Captain Sidorov's thoughts...

That girl who saved me from the flogging... If she was really Nastya... Why did she save me? It doesn't make sense! At the station in Tyumen, I made love to her while my men were raping her sisters! She should hate me! But was it just a coincidental resemblance? She could have been just a local girl who happened to look very much like her...

But I love to think it was Shvibzik, the Merry little one. This morning, before I was to be interrogated by the Admiral, I had not slept for the second night in a row, and like floating in a dream, I visited the Ipatiev House. The guards let me pass due to my rank, and the officer on duty went inside with me. A fine young fellow who seemed thrilled to be talking with an older officer. I was indeed an officer the youngsters could easily talk with.

He took me to the cellar, where I found obvious signs of an execution by fire squad; nearly half the plaster on the far wall was heavily damaged by a great many bullet impacts, and this suggested that the men forming that squad were either drunk or kept missing on purpose, perhaps both. The sickly yellow wall-paper seemed embarrassed to still be there. Large blood stains were darkening the floor, a clear sign that several people had been murdered there.

"They also found three dead dogs, Sir. Bayoneted, except one darker dog that was killed by bullets."

"I think this was Ortipo; it belonged to Grand Duchess Tatiana," I replied, on the verge of tears and trying my best to keep my countenance in front of this junior officer young enough to be my son.

"You knew her, Sir? You were perhaps on duty in Petersburg?"

"No, but I saw pictures of the Czar and his family, bless their souls!"

"You... you think they're dead?! This can't be! I mean, this cannot be, Sir!"

"It begins to look like this, Lieutenant, and the Admiral thinks so. If the Bolsh..., if those brigands had simply moved the family, then why kill the dogs? It doesn't make sense, unless..."

"Unless what, Sir?"

"The answer is, I'm afraid, a very unpleasant one, and..."

As I spoke, my voice began to tremble and a tear rolled down my left cheek. I quickly wiped it off using my sleeve and said, "Let's go through the house; we... perhaps I'll find something..."

We went upstairs and found ourselves in the drawing room, where stood a long, massive table. The Romanovs ate their meals there and... and I had little doubt as to what other uses the guards had for this table, especially when the Lieutenant told me that the daughters had been kept in a room on this very same floor.

I rushed into the bedroom and saw four beds. The ominous number that so often means death.

"Everything has been left as is, Sir. I'm with you to see that nothing gets disturbed. The officer in charge of the inquest shall be here any minute, Sir."

I looked through the stuff, doing my best not to show that I knew what I was looking for. The world danced around me; the floor was dancing under me as I kept looking through the belongings of the Grand Duchesses. On a cupboard, there was a picture showing a smiling Maria along with some young officer, and Nastya in the background... I was tempted to take it, but the Lieutenant was watching me and doing so would be theft of official property.

There it was! I tried to repress my sobs as I recognized the playing board and the pieces... Colorito. It was Nastya's board-game of colorito. She would never have left without it!

"Noo! Noo! Noo! Nastya! Nastya--aaaaaah aaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..."

I fell on the ground and began to sob while screaming like a demented man, shouting Nastya's name and begging her forgiveness. I lost track of time at this point. All I know is, when I came to, I was restrained by bonds in a cell. It was quite dark.

The girl who saved me... It was Nastya! Had to be. I never believed in ghosts or supernatural beings, but I couldn't find it in me to accept the idea she was gone forever. I couldn't bear the thought of living in a world where she was no more. She was so sweet and I was so horrible to her! Why did she forgive me? Countess Hendrikoff has forgiven me too. Tamara probably did as well, since she had herself forgiven all thirteen men who had bought and used her! Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanova was too gentle and good-natured to go through such violent times. She should have been allowed to go into exile and become an actress in England. And have those strawberries with whipped cream.

Yes, I believe! For I cannot accept a reality where she's no more.

***

The doctor who saw me said I wasn't the only officer who had cried and sobbed upon learning that the Czar and his family had probably been murdered.

"Everybody is visiting that cellar," he had said. "They all want to see the place where they were shot and killed. All clues are pointing in that direction."

"I know, Doctor. They're dead."

"How can you be so sure? There's still a hope they were only moved and some other people were executed in that cellar."

Then I told him the story of how I was "saved from some Bolshevik partisans who had posed as Turkish circus strongmen wearing a colourful costume". A girl had led soldiers to where they were flogging me using a studded knout.

"Doctor, I'm sure they would have flogged me to death if it weren't for that girl! One of the men, Anton, a private, could swear that this girl was Grand Duchess Anastasia!"

"Nonsense! This man had too much to drink! Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanova, bless her holy soul, is either dead or captive. There's no way she could be around here!"

I stuck to my story—The soldiers and the Major General had been led by a girl who then vanished; and this girl was Anastasia! I could not tell anyone about the game of colorito being Nastya's most prized possession as this would betray me as a former Bolshevik officer who had served in the guard around the Grand Duchesses. So I stuck to my story about the girl who had vanished after saving me.

I stuck to my story when they brought me before the Admiral, who looked at me very sternly as he spoke:

"The Major General and Nadja were both shot dead and once the General was dead, you were the highest-ranking officer in the premises! You're responsible for what happened, and this is why I had you tied up in a cell. Oh, the Doctor said you had a shock, that you need more rest, but your little play in the Ipatiev House won't keep you from being disciplined! No it won't!"

"Admiral Sir! I was tied up to a tree and being flogged when they arrived to rescue me! There was nothing I could possibly do!"

"This is what you did next, after your men freed you, that will seal your fate in this Army, Lieutenant! Yes, I'm demoting you to Lieutenant and whether you remain an officer will depend on what you say next, so think very carefully, Lieutenant, before you answer this next question. What did you do once you were rescued and saw that the General and the Colonel's daughter had been shot by a sniper?"

The Admiral's words tipped me off as to what the handsome Lieutenant had told the Admiral. He was a true friend! He had protected me by telling the Admiral that Nadja had been killed by the sniper along with the General. He had also protected himself by saying so.

"Admiral Sir, the Lieutenant in command of the light company of the 7th was also present. Could he come here and testify along with me?"

"My dear Lieutenant, you were in that cell a bit longer than you think! You slept like a stupid stone. Perhaps the Doctor is right and you're off your rockers. The 7th regiment had to march forward yesterday and the light company with it, and the entire Czech Legion will soon follow under General Jan Syrový—Learn his name, Lieutenant, for he's your commander in chief. We still have a war to win. Colonel ..., I don't recall his name, has remained here, however. The man has been delirious and quite insane since he lost his daughter. She was buried two days ago, and so was the Major General, a great loss for us! So I want to know, what did you do when the General was dead? The captured sniper gave much confused answers and was not of much use other than entertainment for the men, so I'm asking you. What did you do next as the highest-ranking officer present?"

"We, Admiral Sir, we gave chase to these partisans! You see, Sir, that sniper wasn't alone, but she's the only one we managed to capture."

"And what about the body of Nadja? Did you leave it unattended?! Her dress was all torn! As if a group of men had tore it off her, to strip her naked! To do things to her! To her corpse."

"I... I'm afraid we did, Sir, well Sir, I... I was quite in great pain. My back was a bloody mess, Sir! I had received no less than seven strikes of knout when I was saved, Sir, and Sir, you've seen for yourself how painful it is to get struck by an iron-studded knout! My judgement was altered and we, I did what I thought was the best course of action with the fifteen men I had, Sir!"

"You're a fool! You could have led those men straight into an ambush! You stupid and clumsy fool! And so, Nadja's body was left unattended, where she was no doubt found by some local men, who ripped her dress off and... And we all know what those animals did. Nadja was a very pretty young lady, Sergeant! Yes, Sergeant! You lack the most elementary judgement! All you had to do was to leave two men to guard the corpse. Two men! Even a fifteen-year-old fähnrich* would have done better than you!" (* fähnrich = officer cadet)

"Yes, Sir."

I felt relieved. He was only demoting me. I could have easily ended up in front of a fire squad!

"Now, in consideration for your long years of service, as I've been told you served during the Great War, you will be reduced to the rank of Fel'dfebel and your new commander in the Czech Legion will do whatever he pleases with you! You'll have your marching orders to-morrow. Now leave!" (Feldfebel or Felwebel = Master Sergeant)

Only then did I became aware that I was alone with the Admiral, except for those two sentries at the door. But I accepted my fate and why would I betray the White Army? We were on the winning side! The oil-lamps told me it was probably late at night. Then, I heard light foot-steps, and a young lady wearing a rose dress walked in, with long dark hair that reminded me of my wife. Tamara! Light foot-steps that played the most sensually quiet music, for she was barefoot. And she avoided my gaze. I was one of her rapists. One word from her would sceal my fate. But it was the stern Admiral who spoke:

"Don't you know when to take your leave, Sergeant? Be off!"

***

Feldfebel Sidorov's thoughts...

What sort of dignity did Tamara regain with the Whites taking over? She was a damsel for the highest-ranking officer. Still a prostitute. Certainly not free to go back to her native castle in Latvia if she wanted to. Countess Hendrikoff was no doubt in a similar predicament; her rank regained, as long as she gave her ass to some old general.

This was a warm night at the end of July.

The city of Yekaterinburg was asleep as I went outside after collecting my Nagant from a Sergeant at the door of this mansion, next door to the Mayor's house, where music and songs were no longer heard. Only the sobbing of girls who had been stripped of all human dignity, by troops who were the same no matter what side they fought on. A sentry saluted me and after some hesitating, I saluted him back as I realized I was still wearing my Captain's shoulder pads. With the Imperial stars on it. Nastya must be happy from high up above, to see me wearing these. I was missing her voice most of all. The touch of her feet under the table when we played colorito was one of my most precious memories.

High up above, the sky was as clear as black satin with myriads of stars. The Plough constellation was showing me where to look up for the north. Then I looked westward, knowing that far beyond the horizon was St. Petersburg and Sümeyye, the prize of victory waiting for me. She was waiting for me in the land of the sunset. We were fighting on the side of justice and we would crush the Bolsheviks! Soon, it would be the Red Army's sunset. Soon.

"My good sir, will you give me 20 kopecks? You'll see, I'm good, very good with my mouth..."

A girl had spoken these words, with a truly lovely voice. So little she stood in her grace as she looked up to me with big dark eyes full of tragedy and long dark hair full of a lost innocence that she seemed to cling to. What a pristine figure! She must have fabulous feet!

I dared not ask her how young she was. Her face looked immorally pure! She wore little flowers in her hair. She kept looking at me in silence, perhaps a ghost wearing her pale night-gown, barefoot as she stood near the door to a small house. I nodded as my eyes met her feet. My cock went hard.

"For one ruble, young lady, will you spend the night with me? What's your name, little angel?"

"Magda."

***

It was an empty house. Whoever was there was fast asleep. She closed the door behind us and led me to a small room where stood a large bed along with a low table covered with empty plates, tin cups and utensils. Food she'd had from clients. How many men had used her?

"I like you," Magda said, her voice like a beautiful spring in the room's gloomy silence and half-darkness. "I only take clients I like. My parents have fled. I hid until they had no choice but to flee. They never really liked me. My mother's an ugly hag; she was always jealous of my beauty. Father wanted to keep looking for me, but Mother's the one in charge, so they left. And now I have to make a living. I'm pretty."

As she spoke those last two words, she slowly spun around, showing me each side of her; she had a thin belt that flattered her slim curves. From top to bottom, she was as lovely a maiden one could dream of. The pale flowers in her hair made sure she looked like a virgin peach. My eyes were hypnotized by her bare feet as she whirled and danced on a dark rug. Her little hands seemed to hold the destiny of men. My money came right out.

I gave her one ruble and took her in my arms, very gently. I quietly put her head on my chest and began to stroke her hair, even more gently. She was the loveliest girl I had held in my arms since Nastya. I kept stroking her hair, tears in my eyes as the reality hit me again. Nastya was dead. And this girl could very well be dead as well. And yet her little body was all warm and comforting against me. And my manhood was throbbing at the thought of penetrating her! I knew that her buttocks would be truly white and a heaven to touch and kiss, that I'd be as hard as a conquering Turk inside her!

"For one ruble, you can fuck me all you like, Captain Sir. What do you want me to do, Sir? Do you want me to go down on my knees now?"

"I... I'm so sad! About all this war. All this nonsense! I... I just want to love you. Magda. That's a very beautiful name!"

She remained silent as I stooped down and began to kiss her shoulder as I lowered the wide collar of her gown. This was the shoulder of a girl, not a woman's. Dainty! I felt so ashamed to be lusting after her! And yet I knew that the ejaculation would be a biblical one, due to this very immorality. She was worth a thousand rubles! More! I covered her head with kisses, going mad with love. Her breathing was deepening, she was probably simulating arousal, but she did it well. Her scent was impossible to describe with words! She was paradise! I wanted to touch her breasts through her gown, but I didn't dare go ahead. I felt too ashamed, for I felt so old and she so young!

"Why are you so shy, Sir? Go ahead! I won't bite! You're so different from the others! Anyone of them would already be fucking me like a braying donkey, but not you! You take your time, you're very gentle. I really like you! Now please, suck my tits, I'd love this from you! You're so gentle! Yes, touch me, daddy!"

From the moment my hand softly cupped her left breast through her thin gown, my world changed. She felt timeless. She was a ghost. A maiden from bygone years! I kept caressing her breasts for the longest time, feeling the depth of her breathing, her heart beats... She was a ghost; the most adorable of all! I kept petting her bosom and let the anticipation build up; the anticipation of letting those little castles of girly fat come into sight, with her budding nipples that would look back at me and wait for my love.

I unlaced and lowered her gown's collar and uttered a loud grunt as I saw the mirage of her! Her breasts! Small nipples of dark raspberries in the golden heat from a quiet lamp! She was. Even more beautiful than I had anticipated! I was painfully hard down there! I was going to fuck her long and good! I plunged and began to kiss and kiss and lick and suck this youth from her! My tongue against her nipples! It was surreal! This was never supposed to happen.

I especially loved getting lost in the valley between her small castles of flesh. She was ungodly soft! Her skin! While her little fingers kept running through my thinning hair.

"I love the way you do this, Daddy! Ohh, so gentle! Ooh yes! Yes! Please strip me naked, Daddy! Strip me naked and use me! My heart belongs to Daddy!"

What followed was a dream where I fucked and kept fucking this dream of a girl until the morning. The debauchery would remain like the fading recollection of a dream too wonderful to reach again, with a girl too pretty to be ever reached again.

Shame would always assault me as I recalled how I kissed her feet, and then how I hastily stripped myself naked and let my stiff cock meet the soft tenderness of her dainty feet. Oh, Magda! So graceful in her nakedness, with the most delicate triangle of dark vulva hair! With legs only rivaled by Sümeyye, but my wife is pale olive while Magda is as white as death.

In this eternal present of my dreams, I'm now holding Magda's butt between my hands, and she's moaning, pretty and maiden-like in her nakedness as I enjoy the entry inside her while she's on all fours and the dark mass of her hair makes her backside even whiter! with a sensual tinge of gold under the bed-room lamp!

I scream with bliss as I feel her pussy around me! Tight! I'm raping her! Raping this small girl and it's so wonderful! Her butt looks pleasantly vast, surprisingly so as the slender girl keeps moaning under my fierce assaults and the scent from her intimacy reaches my nostrils as I keep pounding her!

I soon scream even louder as my whole body becomes weightless and I dump a gigantic load inside her!

"Yes, Daddy! I love how you fill me up!"

And while I ejaculate inside this maiden, I'm filled with guilt.

I woke up alone at the sound of the army drums. There was no sign of little Magda. Maybe she had already risen and was preparing breakfast? But when I cleared the cobwebs of my slumber and saw the heavy population of spiders and cobwebs where the walls meet the ceiling, I noticed that I stood in an empty house that had not been lived in for years. Magda wasn't to be found anywhere, and there was nothing to make breakfast with. I found my silver ruble on the coffee table near the bed; it featured the portrait of the now-dead Czar.

And yet my legs were still filled with a pleasant sensation that told me plainly that my time with Magda had been more than a passing dream.

Outside I met townsmen to whom I inquired about Magda and whoever lived in that small house. They all seemed too busy to answer. A newspaper-boy with ice-blue eyes finally answered me...

"You must have dreamed, Captain Sir! Not that I want to mock you, Sir, but the only Magda I've known to live in this house was a very ancient woman by that name."

"Was? Ancient?! But she wasn't any older than you, sonny!"

"Old Magda she was. A kind-hearted old lady, living there alone, who sometimes treated me to some hot coffee, that is, until she died two years ago. She must have been a hundred years old! I miss her... You know, she was such a kind-hearted girl..."

"A hundred years old?!"

"Yes, there's a late picture of her in the hall, if you'd like to look, Sir. And another photo of her when she was about thirty-five. Nobody's lived in this house after her!"

The boy left me and carried out his news-announcement duty further down the street. The headlines said the White Army kept beating the Reds back to the west.

I returned inside the empty house and soon found some dust-covered pictures in the hall, on an antique shelf of dark wood that was covered with more dust and stuck in cobwebs. Once I cleared the dust, I saw the picture of an ancient woman whose face had been so stricken by the passing years that it was left devoid of any youth and grace, and yet she still had a lot of dark hair. The second picture, however, showed a woman who was still young and beautiful, wearing a dress that seemed to be from the middle of the last century...



I looked intently into the younger woman's eyes. Same dark hair, same dark eyes, but less innocent with firmer features. It was Magda all right. Short and slim, and richly married to a long-dead husband. I knew that having met her in her maiden years was physically impossible, but so many weird things had happened as of late that I felt anything was possible. The lingering bliss I felt down my legs was proof enough.

I took the picture with me and I was about to leave the empty house when I heart a spring of a voice...

"Don't even think about it! Leave my picture here, Daddy!"

I put the picture back on the dust-cover ledge and fled the haunted house. And yet the notion of an erotic encounter with young Magda positively fascinated me. I felt sad knowing there wouldn't be a second time.

To be continued