Red Sunset

[HistBuff]

Chapter 28: Autumn Leaves

Ducks were swimming in a pond; crows were singing their grim anthem in the dawn of another gorgeous day in October, where tall pines will enjoy the sun on the remote hills of Ural, where giants are said to dwell, and ghosts might be there in the morning mist, like lost memories in the torn fabric of time.

Dynamite sticks go off in a big blast that sends loads of timber in the air and all these birds take off, quacking and crowing and wondering what the hell's going on.

Lt. Colonel Alikhan is smiling. Mission accomplished--The bridge has been blown and now the English garrison in Birsk are utterly isolated.

Time to go back to the brigade and resupply. Not quite.

There's one more matter to settle.

The heavy-set Major and Alikhan are discussing about the Cossack cavalry-girls, who are all sitting on the ground with crossed-legs and their hands tied up in their back, not far from the site where the bridge has just been destroyed, where it was overlooking a ford in a deep river bed. Now two cliffs face each other on either side of a gap where the bridge stood.

Anika was exhausted and had no idea how she had been able to walk roped to a horse after her brutal ordeal, but Kovalenko had given the example of toughness and there was no way she was going to falter. None of the girls did. Not even Elsa, whose fragile-looking body was proving as tough as nails.

She did not understand what the enemy commander was discussing with the Major, but she knew it was about her and her girls. The discussion turned into an argument that the Major won.

Anika broke down and panicked when she and every one of her eighteen remaining girls were lined up and ordered to get down on their knees in crude Russian while a platoon of Kazakhs stood ten yards in front of them with their rifles ready.

"No! Please no! Spare me! Spare me I'll do everything! Everything!" Anika begged in her Ukrainian. Kovalenko and several other girls looked at her with contempt. The others prayed with trembling hands, while Lance Corporal Armstrong and some of the other male prisoners began yelling and protesting, only to be beaten down with rifle butts.

Then the sound of a motor was heard. Approaching fast. Coming from the sky.

The biplane seemed to appear out of nowhere, coming fast from the East as it cleared a hill and veered, and the Kazakhs ran for cover as it soon came within range and the pilot let the machine guns speak.

POPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPPOPPOWW!!!

The Cossack girls were too exhausted to get up. They remained there. On their knees. A few of them were reaped and fell as the biplane roared above and past them. Kovalenko died well, from causes beyond her will. So did Elsa, tragically killed at the very dawn of her life. This is the true face of war.

Darina did not die well. She thought she was safe, but became conscious of her torn shirt being wet on the right side of her belly, where she looked and realized her liver had been punctured. She knew enough biology to understand she had only a little time left.

"Take me home! Take me home, somebody please take me home!" Darina cried out while the Czarist biplane veered and was already in line for a second pass. "I don't wanna die! AAAAAA AAAAAAAA AAA AAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA RRRHAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

POPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPPOPPOWW!!!

KPOW PPP PPPOW!!!

This time the plane was met with return fire from Soviet rifles. A couple of Kazakhs bit the dust. The plane seemed to be veering again for another pass of strafing, but something was wrong with its motor. A thin smoke showed up from its engine and the biplane began losing speed and altitude. It veered off and flew straight to the South West.

There was a lot of dusty confusion on and by the sandy road. Johnny Armstrong pulled hard at his bonds he had spent the night weakening against a stone.

A hundred horsemen rode in the general direction where the plane had gone, the road running about parallel to its path. Cossack girls got back up and took to their heels, no longer feeling any pain thanks to the rush of adrenaline.

"Go after them and kill them!" the Major barked to his men, who were already mounting their horses to chase the fleeing cavalry-girls while Darina was still filling the air with her panicked screams as her life bled away.

Out of sheer instinct, British nurses came to attend the dead and the dying, trying to comfort Darina while other nurses attended to a wounded Kazakh, who broke down in tears as he realized he was being treated by Judith and Helen, the very girl he had raped and helped being raped the previous night. The young man tried to tell them to let him die, but the English nurses kept attending to his wounded arm.

"Keep the British alive!" the Colonel had bellowed.

Other nurses were treating Private William Holmes, whose thigh was torturing him. The bullet wound had begun to fester.

"He needs to be taken to a doctor before it's too late!" Mina Harker said, where all her nurses attended to the wounded, finding comfort in this return to their familiar work. And the weirdest form of revenge as they saw how disturbed some of the men felt as they were treated by their own victims.

Only Rose cursed and said "those pigs deserve to be let bleed and die". Captain Mina Harker slapped her and ordered her to help.

Mina Harker, like Judith Baker and all the other nurses, had woken up in a tent, naked amid a group of men shrouding her in their strong smell of urine and musk. Each girl was wondering whether she was dead or alive. Intense, lingering pain between her legs, and at her bruised hips where countless men had held her, told her the latter was the most likely.

The men had helped them finding their ruined dresses and whatever was left of their Red Cross apron. The lavender blue and the white aprons had both taken a brownish colour where dirt was the common theme as each girl was being helped back in her clothes by her rapists, in a scene that felt even more surreal than the gang-rapes. The nurses now realized that such things were to be expected in war. Even the bizarre kindness shown by those brigands once they had fulfilled their basest instinct.

Now Mina Harker kneels beside William Holmes and the same Feldvebel who took his pleasure inside her is giving her the last of his liquor flask so she can at least have something for the boy's festering wound.

Rifle-shots and shrieks ring out here and there in the woods. Cavalry-girls scream before they're shot.

In the woods plays a tragedy where each fleeing girl, barefoot, hampered by her night-long ordeal, soon gets overtaken and shot. The Kazakhs are tired by a lack of sleep and the excess of pleasure, so they carry out the murders with that kind of tired military efficiency where they commit the war crime without hesitation.

When the last rifle-shot echoes among the trees where the crows will soon return, Alikhan and his men round up the prisoners and find that two are missing--the British Lance Corporal and one of the dark-haired nurses.

***

The enemy pilot is in dire straits. The dying motor forced him to land in a small clearing where he couldn't avoid ending the plane's path in a reception committee of tall pines, where the plane crashed at low speed and the pilot jumped and ran away from the fuel fire. The nearest trees caught fire, but the lingering dampness from recent rains made sure to signal his position by a tall column of smoke.

The pilot now runs as fast as her pesky injury in her right leg will allow. Lieutenant Fanny Moisant crouches within a thicket and taking stock of her M1911 Colt .45 pistol and her one-day food supply she'll need to ration, when the enemy hooves meet her ears.

Trembling, the Yankee adventuress stays hidden. She slowly starts making her way around the crash site and back toward the east, where she still has a hope to make it back to the White Army's new frontline. A good 20 verstes away. If she finds a way across the running river where there's no more bridge.

The heavy-set Major smiles as he sees the burning Sopwith Camel. "A British plane! Is there another English girl in it?" he says for a Feldvebel and other men to laugh and show their teeth as pale as nightmare against their copper skin and high cheekbones. Their narrow eyes light up as shadows of joy.

Major Miras Akhmetov gave the orders as soon as it was learned that the pilot was gone. The hundred-strong squadron now rides all around the site in order to encircle the fleeing pilot. They're all seasoned hunters who are used to track game in wooden mountains. They were going to make him pay!

Lieutenant Fanny Moisant knows she must move. She also knows the enemy is moving faster. Every cracking branch could be the footstep of a man who has dismounted. She goes where the trees are denser, feeling cavalry will have a harder time following her.

The enemy are all around her. They ride where the trees are thickest. They expect the pilot to go there. After dismounting where the hill gets too steep and the tall pines seem to gather close congregations along with white birches, a junior officer and his twenty men are walking too loud on the bed of fallen leaves.

Fanny hears them. Those sounds are too regular and repeated to belong to nature. They're closer than she thought! Already!

Trying not to panic, she finds a thicket of half-naked shrubs and decides to lay still where she feels no one will see her. She finds herself face to face with a hare, who decides to run from this thing it sees as a dangerous giant.

Lieutenant Serik spots the running hare and looks where it runs from--a thicket of shrubs that lost most of their leaves. He silently motions the nearest men to move and surround the spot, while two men run after the hare and make their presence well known to all beings a hundred yards around.

Trembling and peeing her air-girl's trousers out of sheer fright, Fanny remains still. Trying to run would doom her. She silently pulls out her M1911 pistol, the one her rich rancher father gave her on her nineteenth birthday.

"Surrender!" Serik barks at the pilot he just spotted lying down. In bad Russian.

Fanny turns and looks at him. He has a revolver and it's aimed straight at her, while two cavalry-men are also pointing their rifles on either side of him. One man, out of nowhere, presently pokes his bayonet at her buttocks, as gently as a caress, letting her know she only has one option left.

In tears, Fanny thinks of turning her own .45 Colt on her. Her hands are trembling! She's shivering with fright on the bed of autumn leaves and she's seized at her waist. Her wrist is restrained, where a painful twist rips the gun from her hand while someone pulls her leather flight helmet and she's surrounded by surprised exclamations as her brown hair warms the atmosphere as it cascades down on her shoulders.

"Oohh!" Serik lets out. His young cock immediately starts going rigid. They all gasp upon seeing the opportunity.

Fanny starts to cry, almost silently, as they undo her leather jacket and remove her white scarf. She's wearing the usual pale khaki tunic under it. Hands grope her trousers and the men smile as they feel her buttocks. She knows all too well what's going to happen. More men come. A dozen men, at least, surround her.

A man pulls out two silver coins out of her pocket and laughs. It's written something in Latin letters on it. He only understands the Eagle on it. Fanny knows she just lost her two good-luck quarters. The Yankee girl prays as she remembers what's written on them. "In God We Trust"

Serik knows he doesn't have much time. The Major could come anytime. If he wants to have this female pilot, he must do her now. Now! The men silently nod at him. A Corporal's face explodes with grinning anticipation.

Serik wonders why he feels so horny even after taking high pleasure inside an English nurse with black hair at some point during the night. It must be the surprise and the high excitement of the hunt. And the fact this girl is also white and foreign.

Silence surrounds her. The crying pilot is grabbed and forced down on all fours and her trousers are swiftly pulled down. Her naked buttocks give a powerful invitation. What an unexpected pleasure!

She's so thin at the waist! Can't be much older than twenty. Her skin is so filled with light under their eastern gazes! They all know, and she knows, that the impossible is about to happen. She keeps praying in her all-American belief that the worst cannot happen to her. Her dad's money is going to save her.

Serik kneels behind her. Her sobbing intensifies where she begins to struggle against her shifting reality. Grinning Asians restrain her arms where she's on her elbows and knees. The enemy leader is right behind her. Not to comfort her. His eyes trying to resolve the round equation of her vast buttocks against her slim waist hugged by her flight jacket, Serik drops his trousers and slobbers his erection!

Her sobbing turns into long wails as the penetration hits her and all she used to believe in turn into nothing and Serik can't believe how fast his pleasure surges! His hands on her bare skin are something Fanny can't comprehend. What's happening? It hurts!

"Daddy! Do something!" Fanny screams as her pussy gets raped. Her Yankee English doesn't register. The brigands hear her and laugh at her.

Lieutenant Serik, his trousers down being the one thing he has in common with her, begins to pound her harder as she receives the mad strokes while feeling the earth and the fall leaves under her elbows where mad-grinning Asians hold her hands together and others play with her long hair.

His grunts fill the cathedral silence along with her despaired wails. He feels her contractions, smells her urine, smells the fresh earth, her terror! Her terror, yes! Where his erection swells into a heated act that soon gets out of hand. Serik shouts and looks high up at the gathering of tall pines!

"AAaaaaaaaaaahhA---YYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAArrr!!!"

His ejaculation has heat and urgency. He becomes a flashing star where bliss becomes one with pain. Fanny doesn't understand why she's now experiencing pleasure.

It soon abates and Serik, breathless, wonders what he's doing there with his hands on a female butt. What is she doing here?! Fanny thinks she's about to wake up in her childhood home in Kansas. What is she doing here?! With her trousers down and her knees and elbows planted in some forest floor. Her naked skin kissed by the breeze.

Then he remembers.

The Corporal nearly pushes him away!

Serik watches as the Corporal and several more men take their pleasure inside the pilot, whose face is kept on the forest floor among fallen leaves, whose leather flight jacket is still on her back while her buttocks look incredibly pale against the leather and the forest. She keeps wailing and sobbing. They keep grunting.

Some of the men don't partake. They've had enough of such matters the day and the night before. They're happy to watch while sipping liquor or smoking. Somewhere in the cloudy sky, the smoke shows where the plane finishes burning.

It's an urgent gang-rape where each man dies fast inside Fanny. Her face caresses the ground with each new thrust, each new man. She keeps failing to understand this is actually happening. Why doesn't her dad do something? They fill her up with their yak milk. One by one. Fucking her like a bitch in the only position they know well.

Soon, it is over and the ghost of a she-officer is brought up to her feet. They even help her fastening her belt back around her waist while the officer checks her papers. "Sub-Lieutenant Fanny Moisant, written in Cyrillic letters. Born on the 08/07/1895. Pilot."

Serik slides her M1911 Colt pistol inside his belt. He shall keep it as a souvenir. But what was a woman doing with such a big pistol? She clearly couldn't handle the recoil.

She's brought back to the crash site where her Sopwith Camel is but a heap of charred wood and the twisted ruin of a British motor. The fire-struck pines are still heavily smoking. Some nearby trees have caught the smoking disease, but the forest fire is clearly about to die.

"Name and rank!" a heavy-set Major barks. She confusedly sees the three red squares on his open collar and notices his thick neck and pudgy face.

She doesn't answer, keeps looking at the ground.

The Major understands why, seeing the grin on Serik and his men. He slaps her anyway. She falls.

"Name! Rank! How much plane?" he adds in his bad Russian. As she lies prostrated, he appraises her slender legs and her whole figure under her pilot's outfit. His tongue licking his lips tell everything about his intentions.

"F-fhh, Lieutenant Fanny Moisant. My plane, one." She speaks Russian, with an accent that makes him raise his eyebrows and smile.

"I see you found something exotic to play with, Lieutenant!" the Major bellows in a language Fanny has no idea of, only knowing it's the language spoken by those brigands who look like Mongols.

Major Miras Akhmetov grabs her and picks her off the grass, then throws her away, only to pick her up again and slap her to the ground. He basks in her cries.

He orders that she be brought back to him. On her feet. The sun pierces the clouds, almost as if wanting to see what's next. There's a grand show of sun-blaze among the morning clouds, but no-one cares.

Akhmetov helps the crying pilot out of her flight jacket and she breaks down in tears as the heavy-set man smiles at her while stroking her long hair. She shudders, but knows she can't struggle in their grasp.

"No, please! We have three other planes I'll tell you all you want to know but please please please not this again! Not again!"

Fanny's Russian is broken, just as her voice and the rest of her. She bitterly cries as the repulsive Major smiles out of his pudgy face and violently tears her tunic open, freeing a display of tits informing him she wasn't wearing anything under it.

The sweating Major removes his cap and wipes his face with his lower sleeve, letting his balding head shine under the sun. He enjoys the breeze cooling his face, where he grins and listens to the music of her pleas and her sobs. The men restraining her are also grinning. Some of the men are a bit tired of raping women, but it's not everyday they can fuck a white foreign girl who also happens to be an officer!

Akhmetov loves how she whimpers as he presses his lips into one of her breasts. They're the right size for his small hammy hands. He cups and cherish them with some rough affection that gets his fire surging. He lets his finger gently linger on her nipple.

Tears veil Fanny's world. Looking all around her, she's hit by the copper tone of their skin and realizes she's been and going to be gang-raped by Mongols in dark khaki uniforms that seem specially designed to intensify the foreign fire in their skin. Her secret-most thoughts force shame down her core by making her feel a putrid kind of excitement because they look fearsome and exotic--It's almost as if her core wants more of them.

"Noo! Please Daddy! Do something! Do something!" she shouts against herself in this Kansas English no one cares for in Ural.

On the other side of the world, it's about nine in the evening and not eight in the morning. A rich rancher looks a picture of his adventuress of a daughter. He has no idea where she could be. The last letter he had from her was sent from Kamchatka five months ago. Sitting with his after-dinner whisky by the fireside, he longingly looks at a picture of her taken four years ago on the day he gave her this impossibly powerful pistol, a .45 Colt "Just in case." Wherever she is, God would not allow anything bad to really happen to his beloved Fanny. She'd soon be back from her airplane follies and settle down in Kansas with some proper rancher.



The vulnerability in her nipples says she's simply a woman. Her rank becomes pointless, a mere decoration on her wide-open tunic as she gets passed around and all sorts of earth-faced men come and suck her tits. Most of them are barely taller than her and this inflates her sense of humiliation out of anything that can be said.

They soon lower her trousers again and the topless officer is allowed to keep her boots where they bend her over and the heavy Major is already behind her, where they keep her standing while the Major punches his slobbered cock inside her. They're short enough to mortify her where she stands.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHRRR!!"

His victory cry echoes far and wide where the pilot is raped near her wrecked Sopwith Camel that used to be marked with three red stars, each one standing for a Soviet plane she killed. He's holding the crease of her hips and uses her in this position he loves to grunt in. Her Russian leather boots near his yak leather boots, his hands on her white skin a powerful statement that anything can happen in war.

"Daddy... Do something... Something, do, Daddy..." Fanny mumbles on, over and over again as they hold her wrists and keep her standing where she's utterly shaken by the Major's repeated rams. Part of her body responds strongly to getting bucked and forces whimpers out of her.

The international savagery is soon consumed.

Overwhelmed by her buttocks against him in motions that soon get blurred as he remembers when he raped an English nurse with golden hair, Major Akhmetov emits improbable sounds that perhaps remind his men of a rutting yak as he shivers in such a trance she thinks he's having a fatal seizure.

"aahaahaannjjjjhhhhhhkkhreghh..."

Even his men are worried.

"Good fuck!" he says as he pulls out of her. They all laugh. She sobs.

He looks on, wearing a satisfied smile as men upon men rape the white-ass pilot in the same bent over position, many of them cupping her tits as they press themselves upon her when they give her their semen.

"She loves how we love her!" Serik says upon hearing her intensifying moans before her unwilling orgasm is met with a loud round of laughter.

However, most of the hundred men watch and enjoy a cigarette or a sip of liquor. The men who do rape her often close their eyes and think about the English nurses they have tried out. The rapes aren't as urgent as the day before, but they do feel urgent to Fanny, who has no idea how she's going to live on after this.

At some point, they feel her body deserves to be seen naked. So they help her out of her aviator's outfit. Her long boots are pulled and her woolen socks give way to a pair of light-filled feet that get Serik into her as her wide cavalry trousers get pulled off her legs. Several men find a new meaning to life as they buck her while she's naked on all fours. Serik rubs his cock on her feet before pinning her under him with her legs up and against his shoulders, where she tries not to look back at him as she feels this young officer is even younger than her!

Her feet keep pointing at the overcast sky, inspiring many Kazakhs to masturbate, and then Serik dies inside her. "AAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!"

More men try her out in this exotic position. Fucking a white girl with her legs up provides even longer and harder ejaculations! Yes, this is a great fuck! She deserves their sperm. Fanny goes crazy as she's hit with another orgasm, just as some brute with a huge black moustache explodes inside her.

They now keep her lying on the ground amid them. She's Eve-nude, the air a bit chilly, and she's being baptized with Kazakh semen on her tits and face as they all take turns in masturbating above the pretty foreign girl. They don't care how she became a pilot. They don't even care about the risk posed by the other enemy planes, who could be looking for her. All they care about is the insane bliss they experience as they watch as their surging bolts of yak milk land on her.

"UUUGGHH!" one of them says. Fanny only understands this international language---The UUUUGGH followed with this heated fragrance that she's being familiarized with. She's no longer crying. She's numb with shame.

Alikhan and the rest of the force arrive, with the nurses riding supernumerary horses and the English prisoners nearly dragged behind.

"Are you out of your mind, Major?" he hollers as he rides near his second-in-command. Another plane attacked us! We need to ride out of here quick!"

Before long, Fanny, who've been helped back in her uniform, finds herself roped to a horse and forced to walk too fast for what her weakened legs will allow. She's soon picked up and tied to a long staff, then carried by two soldiers like a piece of meat. The only things in her mind are the pain and how many more of those men will use her and how. She misses Kansas. Deeply.

***

Lance Corporal Johnny Armstrong felt lucky. He had grabbed Agnes as she ran and hid among thick pines with her, just in the nick of time, before a group of cavalrymen rode so close that one horse nearly stepped on Agnes! Then the pursuers had spotted a fleeing Cossack and rode after her! A scream had rung out and rifle-shots had silenced the girl.

He remained there with Agnes for the longest time. Hugging her in a protective gesture. There was a short-lived rain, then the sun made a happy return and it seemed that each one of the tiny ferns had turned into a green wand loaded with wet diamonds. Among the clouds, a majestic rainbow felt out of place.

When he was certain the enemy was gone, Johnny nudged Agnes into standing up. Some fallen leaves had tiny pools of rain water and he drank from them. Agnes did likewise.

"I think our frontline is about a day's walk away, Agnes, but we must find a place to ford this river. Let's go north! South means death for us."

Agnes started walking. Slow. Each step hurting her. With the adrenaline gone, pain was ruling her body.

Johnny picked up the brave nurse and carried her. He'd need to stop and rest here and there, but it would be faster this way.

They walked by three corpses of Cossack girls. The first corpse had been shot clean through the heart, twice. He stopped and rested there for a while. Agnes offered a quick prayer. Then she was back in his arms and off they went.

Zildana was more painful to see dead. Her breasts and crotch were bare and it was clear they had raped her before blowing her brains out.

"She was so young and beautiful!" Johnny said.

Then silence fell on this true face of the war. They found the third corpse not far off. The girl had also been raped before being killed and mutilated.

Agnes began singing in German, her overexcited soul remembering the song for no reason at all. She had treated a German prisoner who had sung it over and over until he died from his wounds three days later.

Wildgänse rauschen durch die Nacht
Mit schrillem Schrei nach Norden –
Unstäte Fahrt! Habt acht, habt acht!
Die Welt ist voller Morden.

Unstäte Fahrt! Habt acht, habt acht!
Die Welt ist voller Morden.

"It's a beautiful song. I like your voice. What does it mean?"

"It means that the world is full of Death and murder."

Above them, a flight of wild geese seemed to reprise the song with their cackling...

Habt acht habt acht Habt acht, habt acht...

Agnes broke down in tears. Johnny gave her a comforting hug and she let herself cry in his arms. She had heard him say "I like your voice" and felt desired, when she felt like filth after so many men had used her as their pleasure thing.

His simple sentence had reminded her who she used to be -- a young woman, pretty and desired. Could she still be the Agnes she used to know? When she'd be back in England, would she be able to face her mother, her father and her siblings without looking down in shame? What if she became pregnant? Perhaps she whispered this, as Johnny spoke...

"If you're pregnant, Agnes, I'll marry you if you will have me."

Johnny had forgotten he already had a wife in England. He had no idea what to say to a girl who had been gang-raped into oblivion over the last twenty-four hours. He felt he was lucky. To still be alive.

[Blue]

@HistBuff
Another interesting twist. The games just keep going!
I really like the photo you included. It gives the reader a good idea of ​​what such female pilots must have looked like.

[HistBuff]

Thanks @Blue !

Believe it or not, the story is slowly approaching the end. I knew that a plane would come and do some strafing, but wasn't sure the pilot would be female -- as it would make the story too predictable. The unpredictable element was provided by the fact she's named Fanny and happens to be a Yankee adventuress armed with a Colt .45 pistol. This makes for an impossible encounter between her and Kazakhs who look like Mongols to her.

The most delicate part for this site is to write the grim romance happening between Ivan and Anastasia's ghost.

[HistBuff]

Chapter 29: Compliments Of The Season

Major Sidorov's Thoughts

My life now is a series of autumn days that all look the same, with trenches and the imperative of never showing my head to the enemy. We've already lost four officers to snipers. The only artillery they have are 3-inch Stokes Mortars, but they're deadly accurate within 500 yards and can reach 1,200. Our few pieces of artillery are shelling them all right, but they just won't quit! Thankfully, my shelter is out of reach of their mortars.

I'm part of the Soviet Czech brigade besieging a stubborn English-held position near Birsk while the rest of the army corps has moved on to the East where the new frontline is crystallizing, still some distance away from Yekaterinburg. The Kazakh cavalry regiment is patrolling and protecting our supply line while roaming the farmlands around Belyyfontan.

They've captured a female pilot, an American adventuress. She's now available in the pleasure shacks. I went once, just for the thrill of knowing what it feels like to enjoy an air-woman. I did not use her holes; only enjoyed the touch of her and ended up using her feet to let my semen rain on her. She has common-place brown hair that has not been washed in a while and I'm afraid there could be lice. There's something pretty in her face, the kind of pretty unique to rich daddy's girls. She has some mystery, perhaps because she's a pilot. The disgusted looks she gives me remind me I'm twice her age.

The horsemen have left her with her flight jacket and it's fun to look at her tits while she's wearing it open as per the unwritten rules she has to follow to get food. She speaks with an accent I've never heard before. Her face reminds me of Anika! Anika... Such love in her eyes when she's taken by wild sex. I wonder where she is.

I came back to see her again. This time I sucked her breasts after pouring vodka on them. She was by now completely submissive and looked shocked to be treated gently while I learned the light rosy brown of her nipples and studied the small goosebumps on her areolas. I was much pleased by the way her perky breasts yielded under my gentle pressure as I kissed them and cupped them while making my tongue known to her wild-west skin. I ended up masturbating over them. She was still wearing her wide-open leather jacket and gave me that same disgusted look when I gave them a honest coating of middle-aged pudding.

Then about ten Czech soldiers came, led by a well-built Corporal, who was of course the first man inside her. After they helped her out of her flight jacket, he took her with her legs up and pinned under him. Her bare feet pointing at the ceiling above his grunts beautifully summarized America having fallen to a bunch of peasants from central Europe.

I offered vodka to these brave men as they took their turns inside the American pilot. They tried her out in different styles, dog-style and missionary being the prevalent themes. Czechs usually love to look into the eyes of a girl they're having. I noticed she met these young men with eyes that looked startled. Not so disgusted.

I kissed her bare feet whenever one man was on top of her. She was whimpering like a tramp and had no idea it was me giving love to her feet. They were small and incredibly silky. Yes, this was a daughter born to a family with money. I poured the last of my vodka on these wonderful feet. She deserved it. I ended up masturbating anew over her tits until I dumped a fresh load on her while screaming, "Take this! Rich girl!"

She looked back at me with nothing but disgust and contempt in her brown eyes. My hair have greyed some more since last spring.

"Rapist. Traitor."

Anastasia's voice is always there. Stopping only to resume when I almost think it's gone. I hate her! She's ruining my life. And yet I always long for her. Seeing me with other women seems to make her jealous, because whenever I'm in the pleasure shacks, I see her and her disfigured, nose-less face. No one else sees her.

Once, I was back in my shelter. She was suddenly there. Nastya, with her chestnut bobbed hair. Pretty as always with baby fat in her cheeks. Standing in front of me, all five feet two of her.

Nastya doesn't say a word. She looks filled with the golden light of her youth. She seems to be asking the obvious. How do you like me? She's smiling with her eyes like bright seawater under the roof lantern, her cheeks bathing in this golden light, like a maiden under an antique torch for her wedding.

I fall down on my knees and begin worshiping her, warming her with my breath.

"Yes... Yes! I'm happy to see you. I can't decieve you!" speaks she amid her heated emotion. I kiss her cold lips and hold her. She will always remain the daughter of a Czar. The last one.

I feel proud not to be afraid of her anymore.

Nastya ends up on my bunk where we talk and share our thoughts, just like we did on the train in Tyumen. She says I make her feel alive again. I know I have this power over her. The power to make her feel alive. I love the baby fat in her cheeks. She loves being with me. I probably love it even more. If the White Army were guaranteed having sex with her and her three sisters as their reward, we would stand no chance of winning the war.

Bilguun my orderly finds me alone on my bunk with my hands pretending to hold a nonexistent girl. Bilguun just smiles. This isn't the first time he's caught me like this.

There are also eight captive nurses brought by the Kazakhs. British nurses, along with Englishmen, whose anus became the fun of those soldiers who have this penchant. I have nothing against sodomites since this leaves more girls for us men. They take great care and hide their penchant, because the Soviets will jail sodomites.

The nurses are well treated. They joined the Czech and Russian nurses and are now treating our wounded like the angels of mercy they are, but when they first came riding on spare horses, I saw how torn and dirty their uniforms were and knew instantly they had been molested upon their capture. But the horsemen hold them in high regard now. I later learn that the Kazakhs were strafed by a plane that they shot down, and hence captured the pilot, and the nurses treated their wounded in spite of what had occurred after their capture!

There was even a fight when two of our men were killed by Kazakhs after taking liberties with the head nurse, a strikingly beautiful woman whose hair shimmer with death and mystery. Under a white veil she wears too loose under her hat.

This fight turned into a tedious affair where I sat on the court martial and it ended up with an agreement where the four accused were spared because we depend on the Kazakhs for our supplies. Their commander reluctantly agreed to let us flog his four men. Twenty knout lashes each. The Kazakh second-in-command, a heavy-set Major, pleaded for only ten lashes and thus managed to get the number lowered from thirty. Twenty was still harsh enough, but also lenient since they had killed two men.

I myself came next day at dawn and offered them each a biting stick. I know what the knout feels like, how much it burns the flesh. Each man spat and looked at me with contempt out of his dark Asian eyes. Brave men! Hardly a sound or a complaint came out of them as the knout rained down on their hide. The British nurses treated them after.

One of these nurses has golden hair and almost looks like a nun with her veil. There's still road dirt embedded in her Red Cross apron. Her young body looks gorgeous under her outfit and I know that her tits have seen the sunlight where they ought not to. I find it very troubling to picture these copper-skin men taking their liberties with such a pure-looking girl. Grinning with their high cheek bones as their dark eyes get fully lighted by her tits before they give her their eastern law. It reminds me of when negroes from the ship's crew partook to the gang-rape of the Grand Duchesses and their female retinue on the Russ. The Lithuanians who were there on that deck must sure remember how the young Baroness Tamara took the cock of a negro inside her, and her skin looked so fantastically white!

I observe the head nurse closely. Every day. My position as brigade Major gives me ample reasons to be at the field hospital where I "make sure they have supplies and medications". They have one young English soldier, a Private with eyes filled with intelligence, who came with a festering wound in his leg and is now recovering nicely. He doesn't seem to remember me from when I was on the enemy side, but I do remember his boyish face that now seems to harbour more tragedy than a lad should be asked to handle.

"Rapist!"

Anastasia's voice is ever present in my head. I confuse the present with the past.

Me and this English boy can't talk to each other. His knowledge of Russian is big fat zero and so is my knowledge of English. I show him an old beat-up picture of Sümeyye wearing a traditional Ottoman dress, and he smiles.



I come everyday to drink a glass of vodka with him. And observe the head nurse. She is God-forbid beautiful. A live example of a woman being at her zenith at thirty. Nearly all men in the brigade dream of her. There are talks of mutiny and going back to the White Army, the actual, hidden reason being to storm the field hospital. I hear soldiers say that "Czech cocks are just what she and her nurses need". Others reply and say it would bring bad luck to touch the angels of mercy.

I've learned her name. Mina. She has that look of a woman who was raped and finds herself addicted to sex. She keeps the usual distance from me, perhaps more, as there's also fear in her eyes, a great deal of it. And yet her eyes often wander on me. I caught her once looking at me like that, with her mouth slightly ajar. A troubled silence between us that has a deeper reason than her limited knowledge of Russian.

She's not easy to approach. The British nurses always stay in their own group.

"Rapist!"

Anastasia's ever-present. She almost makes me forget Sümeyye. Once, just after a mortar barrage that nearly blasted my shelter, while Bilguun was gone to the brothel in Birsk, she was there! In her ghastly dress. The lady in white!

"Please, Ivan. Love to me!"

"Young lady!" I replied. "Young lady! Let me kiss you! Young lady! Let me warm the baby fat on your chilly face! Let me look into the seawater eyes of your death under this light! Let me kiss you and bring you back to life."

I say all that, and more, while covering her with kisses. My hand warming her bobbed hair of gone-cold chestnut. I'd rather have her dead than none at all. She laughs, says she's been more fucked now than when she was alive! A lot more. By other men too. She says she's a sexual nosferatu.

"Aren't you jealous, Ivan?"

"Nay, it just makes you hotter. Now shut up and let's make love. Like this!"

The lantern keeps burning for a good while above us.

I love the sea green in her eyes in this golden light. This is her by night. She's preternatural cold, but I give her life. I have this power in me and she craves it. I love this idea of loving an un-dead woman. She's terrifyingly pretty. Terrifyingly cold.

This reminds me of an encounter I've always kept secret within my soul; an encounter that took place back in a long-gone summer when I took a walk in the middle of the night and found myself near a graveyard, quite secluded, where junipers played a windy tune with their pendulous branchlets under a sky of scudding clouds, where I met a young woman almost dressed like a gypsy, with long black hair. Her skin was as pale gold as the full moon above us. We kissed. She tenderly rested her head on my young chest. As I undressed her with a lad's trembling hands, I found that her small nose was echoed in her firm breasts. That her fine eyebrows was reflected in her intimate hair.

We had sex on the forest floor where she rode me while looking away, my hands on her cold feet as I skewered her and soon screamed my bliss in the moonlight. She felt like a dream and a mystical eruption. I never saw her again, ever, even though I took nearly daily walks there for six months afterward.

I skewer her! Like an African gladiator! A retiarius on his night before the fight, where he gets to fuck the daughter of a Patrician, a senator who paid a small fortune just to watch his daughter having sex with this dark-skin fighter. Riding his cock as she moans and gets the full benefit of her daddy's money! While he caresses her feet that no slave is allowed to look at, let alone touch.

Nastya's a Queen of Hearts. As I hold her, it feels as if I were holding Russia in the palms of my hands. She is Romanov of Russia! Good to be with!

I hold all of her! All of old Russia! Not even death can keep us apart.

I want to hold her in my arms and kiss her. But I'm alone.

The weeks have passed by. November came and went with the first snows. Mortar shells. Losses. Some cases of a nasty kind of flu. Officers lost to snipers. Nurses very busy with the victims of failed assaults. The British holding this position are so determined! Barely two hundred left of them, but they're keeping us stranded here near Birsk. The men vent their frustration by turning on the town's women, who are kept in Birsk's half-destroyed homes where they keep gang-raping them nearly every night.

Less than half of these women are still alive. The nurses are overworked. Venereal disease run rampant among our men.

My requests for leave keep being denied. Officially, I'm still a Captain gone missing and my wife remains in limbo. Request denied, yet again! I wrote her several times, but will my letters reach her? For some reason, the Soviet authorities won't acknowledge I'm the same Ivan Sidorov who went missing last spring when the White Army captured the train I was on. Through this curious twist of fate, I'm now a Major in a Czech Division gone Red.

Near Christmas time, a Lithuanian regiment came and camped with us on their way to the frontline that crept further east, at a snail's pace.

"Buckaroo! Buckaroo!" some of them yelled as they recognized me. I recognized some faces, especially the stocky bearded musician. I shook hands with as many of them as I could. I met and hugged Kürschner, who brought me the sad news. Petia had been killed last month before the regiment was sent here as part of reinforcements for the Siberian front. Kürschner was a Major now, in command of the regiment's first battalion. He had no idea of where my former men from the inner guard might be now.

We walked toward my shelter to drink and celebrate, when this head nurse was passing us by. She was by herself.

"Would you like a drink?" I offered.

Mina quickly looked all around her, like a child afraid of getting caught doing something wrong, and then she quickly followed us into my shelter, kept warm by the lantern and the presence of Bilguun. It would quickly warm up now as there were three of us and her. We talked. I was pleased by Mina's fast progress in Russian.

"What's your name again, lovely British lady?"

"Mina. Mina Harker. I'm from Whitby."

Bilguun nodded and smiled at her as he motioned her to a chair at a table. Her eyes exploded in fear as she saw his high cheekbones and the copper tone of his skin. Fear mixed with high excitement.

We organically responded to her excitement by coming closer, all three of us, even Bilguun. She looked at us with even more excitement, mixed with fear. She was about to flee, or perhaps not.

We were now so close we began stroking her long black hair and her breathing was racing. Her dark eyes looking at all three of us in fast circles. She said something in English that ended with "not". I took it to mean "niet". But I was already kissing her hair and my hand landed on her hip where I felt her fire through her lavender-blue dress that had been repaired. Kurschner was kissing her! She faced him, and I began to caress her backside, then felt the firmness of her butt!

She seemed to dance amid us. Bilguun hesitated, then his hands reached her waist and tenderly began a tour upon her legs while Kurschner was still kissing her while I pressed myself against her and cupped her tits from behind. Through her Red Cross apron.

I had always dreamed of doing this to a young nurse. Touching her breasts through her Red Cross apron. I felt her buttocks against my crotch. She seemed to dance in our midst where she sure felt my erection through my uniform and hers.

Mina sank down on her knees. Before I knew it, she had freed Shurbert and took his cock inside her mouth! He grunted. His overstretched features told me how great it felt inside her mouth! We all caressed her hair as she bobbed along my friend's cock, giving it an English spit-polish!

She turned to Bilguun and did likewise. She looked at his light-brown sausage as if in a deep trance. Then she kissed it. Once. Twice and engulfed it. Just like that, she took Bilguun deep inside her mouth, throat deep as she seemed to play her entire existence on how deep and fast she could suck him. Bilguun's moans filled the shelter. Even the lantern seemed to tremble with the joy of its golden light. We kept caressing her hair while she often licked Bilguun's entire length as her fingers played an agile tune around his Asian rod, and then she'd return to her full-blown mouth job.

Until Bilguun blew up with a "HHHHHHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNHHH!" In her face. Like a geyser! He held his exploding cock to her offered face and moaned like a dying man as she took his load with her mouth wide open!

I turned her toward me and began to unbutton the front of her dress. With our three pairs of hands upon her and undoing her outfit, she looked at me with a sort of madness in her eyes. I bared her supple corset and we completely pulled her blue dress down from her arms and let it fall down her feet. With feverish fingers I went behind her and tried to undo the cotton corset while Kürschner was kissing her bare shoulder and lowering her petticoat.

My fingers finally caught the knot and undid it. Her corset loosened and her petticoat fell.

I found myself sucking a pair of English breasts! They were perky with that soft firmness that makes a female bosom so pleasurable for a man's hands. Her wine brown nipples punched my face with feather-light softness where her scent captured me. The aristocratic paleness of her skin rivaled Nastya's. I did not look away from Mina's tits and cleavage as I knew the young lady in white would be there, standing in a dark corner of my shelter. Disfigured. And jealous.

"An English woman!" I said as my thumbs made a journey where her flesh yielded and she moaned. I realized she was naked and my friends were worshiping the rest of her while my tongue tried to be one with her nipples, her fingers running through my thinning hair, and then I went lower. Kissed her navel and licked her skin all around it! Her hands following my greying head with their youth. She was moaning under our kissing assaults. Many women would sometimes dream about being alone with three men. Very few actually lived it.

Mina had a solid triangle of raven hair down there, so much like Sümeyye! I knew the Kazakhs had tasted her too and it aroused me without measure to picture her getting captured by the enemy cavalry and then forced out of her Red Cross apron, then out of her dignity.

I took long strokes of tongue across her English carpet while letting her scent rape my nostrils. I missed my wife. I felt guilty. Beyond measure, I enjoyed the improbable meeting between my tongue and her entrance.

"Aaah aaaaa aaaaaah yes! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me!" she said. Whatever that meant.

I decided to impersonate a Mongol leader who just captured a train filled with Europeans, and now enjoying the loot in the form of a white woman whose bare butt I was now kissing and pressing my face into!

I had turned her around. She let us bend her over the table and I tapped my stiff cock on her bottom, and then ordered Bilguun to take her shoes off. I never fuck a girl without her being barefoot. Kürschner was clearly waiting his turn as if he were still a Sergeant.

Bilguun knew he'd be last, although he had been first to give her semen. He grinned, his eyes pulled into her English nakedness as he freed her feet.

It was only when I saw her naked ankles and feet, where she stood bent over the table, that I penetrated her! I pretended to be a Mongol leader raping an English lady against a table in the train's restaurant car while my men were the just cause of all young ladies on this Siberian Express to be screaming in terror as they felt the air hit their suddenly bared bosoms and buttocks between brigand's hands, under grinning copper faces. Subjected to the eastern law of pure savagery!

The slug-fest began! I became pure joy as I repeatedly sank inside her, learning the line of shadow between her massively soft buttocks that I held in my hands, feeling the fullness of her flesh as I pictured all these English daughters and wives getting bucked by Mongols and filling the restaurant car with the same whimpers I was hearing from Mina Harker.

I took her hips and set her clock straight by slugging away against this paradise of an English ass! Her beauty inflated my cock against her gone-wild exertions!

"Now, Milady! Now you're well furnished!" I bellowed while comforting her with my heated erection, my heated hand where her slender figure was somehow reflected through the surprising vastness of her butt cheeks. She was so white! My eyes saw her whiter because she was English.

She moaned and kept moving herself as to intensify her pleasure. And mine!

I close my eyes and let my hands feed my inner fantasy through her skin while I keep pounding her...

"Yes yes! The Mongols took the train! Found white ladies in it! Dresses got torn! Corsets got forced open and now! Now their vast white buttocks are soiled by yellow hands and grinning Asians learn how good it feels to fuck white girls! Everything's gone crazy! The men are beat up. Women are raped! Daughters too! Anyone with a pussy who can sing high gets the ride! aahh yeah! Yess! Yesss! Yes yes yesss! AAAHHH YEAASSSSSS I CAN'T HELP IT! nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn nNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!"

I pound Mina as long as I can, erupting inside her like a fury of heat! Until pleasure becomes too painful and I have to stop. Sudden guilt takes hold of me as I realize how evil I am. Nastya's there, her white dress there in the shadow, with her nightmare face as bloody as a mess of crushed strawberries with her nose missing and one eye sticking out and down. This is the bride I deserve. Nay, I don't even deserve dirt.

Always on bent over the table, Mina uses her hand and begins finishing herself, but Kürschner takes my spot and urgently penetrates her. He catches her wrists and fucks her while holding her hands together in the small of her back, as if to punish her, while she moans like a bitch where her face kisses the tabletop, her head covered with her all-night hair while Kürschner keeps saying a Countess is the best woman to fuck!

I begin to masturbate at the sight of Mina in this position. The litany of her high moans feeds my masturbation as she climaxes and Kürschner swears, "Good God! YeeaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAghgh nnjjjjjjjjjjgghh..."

Bilguun stands naked and has masturbated himself high and proud. His eyes nearly leap out of his face as the short man kindly nudges Mina back where she stands in front of him, where he takes advantage of his smaller size and fucks Mina from behind while holding her bottom where Asia meets England! I love this! His nervous hands on the white bounty of her ass! Where he still hesitates in his thrusts.

I pour and rub vodka on her impossible curves while she moves herself against the short man, back and forth, so she can feel him inside her. Her groans and whimpers tell us how nuch she craved for men.

"She's all yours, Bilguun! Fuck her all you want! She loves this!" I say, patting him on the shoulder while his thrusts accelerate into a barrage that gets the head nurse moaning herself crazy, her long raven hair hanging down from her ever shaken head where the fuck motions cause a play of lantern light to take life in this hair. I look down at her legs and can't believe this beauty is ours for the whole night! I'm afraid we may run out of vodka.

"Aaa aaaah aaaah aahhh so strong! Fuck! Aaah aaaah aaaah fuck so strong aaaaah aaaah aaaaaaaa aaaaaaaa aaaaa don't stop I'm a tramp-aaaahh aaaaaa AAAA AAAAA AAAAAAAAAAA..."

That was all she could say. Bilguun found her wrists and gave her the steppe's law by using her arms like reins. He kept pulling her arms. She kept moving herself against him as she went off in a crazy-moaning orgasm while her butt went into a buffeting frenzy against Bilguun, who began moaning as if under torture. The eastern man was exploding inside Mina! "Aaaah aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh..."

***

Letter from Major Sidorov to his wife, whom he calls Sofia to protect her exotic character from Soviet eyes

Dear Sofia, I hope you're well. I've gone missing in action. You must think you lost me for ever. I'm still here. Still fighting for our cause. For the people in power. I think about you every day. I can't wait to see you again. My feelings for you have only grown stronger since we first met so long ago. The other day we had olives in our supplies and I couldn't touch them! They remind me too much of you. You will never grow old in my heart.

Ivan

(The letter never reached her.)

The long-winded moan of a man filled a cold apartment in St. Petersburg now Petrograd.

"AAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAA AAAA AAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

Sümeyye was naked, down on all fours, and surrounded by men from the Red Army. Drunk soldiers. One of them just finished enjoying his turn where he tried to keep her pale olive butt against him as he gave the pregnant girl the comfort of his cock. This while her face was kept up where her mouth was filled with a proletarian's cock. They kept letting her know that being pregnant was no excuse for neglecting her duties to the Soviet.

"Wow! She has Russia's most wonderful butt! I'm hard again!"

"Me too, Petrovski! Try her with her legs up!"

"Good heavens! She almost looks too young to be a wife! It's like fucking a school girl!" said a Corporal as he pulled his trousers back up after the incredible ejaculation.

The young Kommissar had told them she was an officer's wife. The wife of an officer who had betrayed the Soviet. "This means you can do anything you want with her! What about the other girl living with her? Too bad for her! She ought to know better than living with a traitor's wife!"

He was now drinking French cognac and smoking a cigar with his left hand, while watching the dozen men renew their exploits on and inside Sümeyye's person.

They had brought her coal to heat her apartment, and a New Year tree with a cross. Another way to rape the Muslim girl along with her sister.

"We need to Christianize these Turkish tramps!" the Kommissar said with a voice that sounded more like a boy than a man.

Sibel was bent over the dinner table where she had been ruthlessly stripped by another bunch of soldiers who gave her no reason to feel neglected by their cocks. They laughed and did the usual vodka pouring on her, while asking her to tell them their fortune. Would they soon be happy enough to fuck a Turkish girl? The Kommissar had only masturbated above her and Christianized her face with his compliments of the season.

They knew they were sisters because they both look very much alike, especially down their hips where youth refused to leave. Such magnets of flesh that men couldn't stop touching.

"Aahh yes yes yes yes yes! Yesss! It's so good to be in the Soviet Army--AAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNHH G-GGGH-GGGjjGGGH!!!" voiced the soldier who had said he was hard again, as he dumped an insane amount of Bolshevik semen inside Sümeyye, after following his mate's advice and taking the pregnant girl with her legs up on a sofa.

"Oh, you beautiful Turkish delight! Now suck my Christmas candy!" the Sergeant said under a thick brigand's moustache. Sümeyye saw first hand how impressive his size was. She began licking it, her nostrils now well used to this sort of smell. Four more men came close and now the naked wife knelt by the sofa, taking the Sergeant's full length while surrounded by young cocks. These Privates had no idea how old she was to them. None of them would willingly take a girl older than twenty or twenty-two, and yet they were more than happy to give Sümeyye their sperm to drink!

"Yeah! We'll make them both dance naked for us and then kiss each other!" said the Corporal while eating one of the loukoums the housewife was forced to prepare for them (under supervision lest she tried to put some poison in the small sweet cubes).

"Now this is what I call a really good New Year's Eve!"

***

Stefania, the eldest daughter of an ill-fated Italian merchant by the name of Joseppe Constantini, met the Lithuanians. So did her young sisters. While a brutally well-endowed Lithuanian tried to see if he could fit inside the youngest sister, while the in-between-sister was getting repeatedly taken amid a circle of vodka-drinking men who held her suspended amid them, Stefania was now enjoying the privilege of getting her bare feet kissed by this bear of a musician with a thick beard, a dark beard with strands of silver that sent shivering notes of violation where it brushed her sensitive skin and radiated through her core. This man was so old! so repulsive!

Stefania's tits received the comments of the troops and were flooded with vodka as men took turns in enjoying them. They had never seen such a pretty face that seemed to smile even when she was crying. She was now.

The bearded musician smiled down on her while licking her feet, which was greatly facilitated by the fact she was kept on her back on a table with her legs up. Urged on by the others, the stout man produced his cock, causing Stefania's eyes to open wide, and then he slobbered it, said something in his language and penetrated her! They all cheered and someone poured vodka in her face as the bear of a man took her thighs and furthered his violations, his eyes wide in shock, his beard nearly exploding out of his gross face upon feeling how great it feels inside this young lady.

With her wide-apart legs brushing his sides, Stefania looked even prettier as she closed her eyes and took the pounding, her head bobbing along with her long dark hair as her tits jiggled along with the beastly thrusts she was getting from the big musician, who promised to sing Вечерний звон (Vechernii Zvon) for her because she gave him so much joy.

"Look at her tits! The one who told me didn't lie!"

"Yes, Benas. She's worth going all the way from Vilnius and fighting our way through half of Siberia to have her!"

The entire table trembled from the musician's assaults while Stefania, eyes closed and fists clenched where they held her wrists while kissing her face, emitted sharp wailing whimpers that followed the rhythm of this wild ramming. The men could tell she was trying to relax and was used to get treated like that.

The entire shack trembled when the stout man erupted in a despaired moan that sounded like a sick bear. He flooded Stefania with sperm. Kissing her lovely little feet as he finished having her legs up on the sturdy table. He was followed by many other men. An entire squad of Lithuanians paid homage to the lovely Italian strumpet. They all agreed that her age was the ideal age for a prostitute--Not too young, and yet a body that was firm and pleasing to hold.

Stefania's blonde sister put sunlight in their eyes. She was blonde everywhere and had a very tight pussy. Major Sidorov was there on this occasion. His hands landed on the blonde's taut buttocks. She was immorally young, and this was why Ivan was so wicked hard! He got lost in the contemplation of her heels where she sat with her legs folded under her, where her heels were under the sensuality of her boyish curves. Her feet alone invited men to give her their sperm, for she was a woman on this occasion, and she had tits. Small, but there. With tabs for nipples that indeed said she was a fuckable woman.

Ivan nudged her into getting on all fours. The damsel obeyed and he was soon inside her after generously slobbering his evil rod. The forty-something Major raped her without any restraint, his mouth wide open and letting out frothing slobber as he mounted the little Constantini sister from Belyyfontan. He offered her a steady pounding and gave her some time to know him better and get more comfortable. But she kept crying and wailing.

Fully bent upon her, Ivan found her tiny breasts under her and he pressed himself on her like a sweating clam, nude on nude, as he kept ravishing her with wicked pelvic thrusts and his heat got out of hand and he yelled his bliss while calling her "Young lady!"

He couldn't believe the prodigious load he spewed inside her!

Fanny was there too. She didn't have anything on her that would show she was an adventuress and a pilot. Fanny was naked. Laughing men kept her kneeling on a cushion chair with her butt offered in a wide display of Yankee splendour!

Now she knew what Lithuanian men felt like inside her. They were more brutal than gentle. Her head was aching from the relentless bobbing. She had lost count of the men who mounted her dog-style on this chair, mercifully cushioned with a fine leather, pillaged from a well-off house in Birsk whose walls were now echoing with the gang-rapes of rich daughters who had fallen into ill-fortune. This leather chair reminded Fanny of home. Her father was fond of leather, from horse saddles to sporting gloves.

"She's American! Yes, American! That's what they say!" a Lithuanian officer told his fellow Lieutenant as he enjoyed Fanny and the soft wideness of her curves, holding her in that same spot where she used to sit in her biplane that she often used to strafe soldiers, soldiers who had turned on her the moment she became defenseless. They had pulled her boots and freed her feet to rub their cocks on them. They had stripped her out of her American flight jacket of Kansas leather and shredded her Russian tunic. Now she had nothing and a Lithuanian officer yelled his delight and gave her his spunk where she remained kneeling on a chair with her curves free to have.

"OK. I can handle this!" Fanny told herself as the second officer took his round of delight inside her. Her buttocks were wide and strong enough to take many suitors. "Yes, I can handle this. Father will never know..."

She received the officer's sludge no problem.

Then came the officers' orderlies. Two black boys the officers had perhaps found in some Turkish market, although slavery had been abolished in Russia under Peter the Great.

Fanny screamed in terrified panic upon seeing them! It took four men to keep her in place on the leather chair! Her screams filled the crowded shack! The negroes freed their cocks while smiling at her with white teeth. The Yankee adventuress understood that Asian men were all right in comparison.

"Noooo! Please noooo! Lemme go! Lemme goo!"

Her English was met with deaf ears and loud laughter as the boys approached and the taller one went first. Fanny shrieked and broke her voice when he smiled and tapped his slugger on her snow-white butt.

When the negro raped her, Fanny shrieked as if he were pouring melted iron inside her! His dark stick proved her theory wrong. Her theory was that sex between a white lady and a negro was unthinkable, that it just couldn't happen. She had seen the movie The Birth Of A Nation when it came out three years ago and had felt positively horrified when a uniformed negro tried to rape a white girl! What a relief when the Ku Klux Klan rode and saved the day! And prevented the mass rape of a pretty brunette.

What a relief when the taller boy relieved himself inside the Yankee girl! "HaaaYYYYYYYUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNGGHH!!!"

The second boy lost no time and made her feel the dark strength of his hands as he comforted her pussy with his rod of power! Fanny kept screaming and whimpering while the slugfest went on and she felt how much bigger he was while vodka got poured on her white ass.

"Uuhh uhh uhh uuhh uuhh uhh..."

The shorter boy sounded like a rutting donkey as he raped Fanny, who deeply regretted her adventurous life. She should have settled down back home in Kansas!

But then the boy pulled out of her before he was finished. He switched holes!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA NNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" The rancher's daughter shrieked as her rectum got distended by what felt like a black horseshoe! His hands on her pale hips, the negro ravaged Fanny's chimney where she knelt on that leather cushion chair that reminded her of her father. The taller negro took fun in slapping her face with his flaccid cock from the opposite side while her anus was getting niggered!

"Uuhh uhh uhh uuhh uuhh uhh..." The same donkey tune, just more urgent as Fanny takes the deep thrusts that kills her every second. She should never have left home!

With the loud man's relief came Fanny's own relief as she soon found herself empty, but not before the negro's heat gave her lower intestines something to think about--his sperm. A nigger's slugger can indeed get inside a white girl.

Fanny shook her head and cried, defying the truth as she screamed, "No! This can't be!" She was so agitated that she even forgot to say "This cannot be" in her usual glamorous English. The negro's sauce made her more authentic.

"Don't worry, Yankee girl!" said a man in Russian, a grey-bearded man dressed like a Soviet officer, as he pushed his cock onto her face and inside her ajar mouth. This was the Brigade General himself. The former Sergeant-Major who had led the mutiny now took a reward inside Fanny's mouth. He enjoyed his throbbing rod against her tongue and palate as he held her head and raped her face without restraint!

Until he blissfully erupted and Fanny had to swallow a hefty helping of Czech semen. She never really got used to the taste.

At present, the stout musician is singing Vecherny Zvon with his baritone voice, while naked and lying on his side, with Stefania lying down on her back where her bent legs are resting on him and her vulva is in line with his monkey stick. He doesn't miss a note of his song when the penetration occurs. His hands on her waist fill her with mixed feelings as the encounter follows its natural course and she gets gently rocked with her ever-moving tits offering a view that money can't buy. More vodka poured on them as a bugle boy begins to suck them. She seems to smile as she closes her eyes and another boy ejaculates on her heavenly face.

Ivan watches and likes the position. Stefania has legs and feet to die for! Ivan finishes his vodka bottle and half-drunk, he masturbates until he's hard. Then he spots the in-between sister, a girl with long jet-black hair. He grabs her and kindly asks her to lie down on her back and founds her scared and obedient. Then he lies himself down on his side, where the girl's legs are soon resting over his hip as he finds her tiny hole and begins to strain against her slit.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!" he moans as he finally penetrates the damsel. Her youth looks like forbidden territory. How evil can he get? She further bends her legs and rests her tiny feet on his hip, seeming to mind very much about being comfortable in her misfortune. The sight of her feet, and their feel on him, turn him into a beast who knows no more boundaries.

As the gentle pounding begins, her small breasts begin to silently sing a song, back and forth where her insolent little nipples get Ivan even wilder. He accelerates in a fury of urgent thrusts, despaired for life where his world gets filled by her damsel's feet on him, the velvet black of her hair, her fine eyebrows where she takes the punishment while in tears, and the insolence of her breasts perky enough to jiggle.

The ejaculation comes like a geyser. So wonderful it's painful. Ivan screams as he dumps a monstrous load inside the small girl. Such power in her feet and ankles. Such insolence in her raised nipples... Ivan knows he's going to hell when he'll die. He thinks too much with his cock.

***

That same night called Christmas Eve in England, a group of drunkard soldiers have managed to kidnap two nurses. They dragged them in the corner of a far trench where they silently rape them. Pregnant and on the verge of vomiting again, Judith keeps a bitter face as each man has her while keeping a hand pressed on her mouth. They take her veil off and keep her back to the trench wall. Her dress gets pushed up to her waist and a knife persuades her to widen her legs for them. Each man slobbers and kisses her angel's face as he relieves himself inside her.

Catherine gets shoved down her knees into the cold mud. They pull her whole outfit down her waist and then down her legs where her buttocks offer an unreal view in the still of the night. One man has a knife at her throat and she remains silent while the handful of men take their turns from behind. It's a silent, quick rape woven in muffled whimpers that get answered by grunts that the men try to keep low. The falling snow helps covering their crime.

Inside a richer house in Birsk, the Lithuanian Colonel and two senior officers have their hands on a lawyer's daughter, whom they have urgently stripped naked while the walls echoed with the screams and begging of her young sisters where soldiers took over the house and are now throwing a fuck party.

The Colonel from Vilnius is a grave man with high morals, much admired in his home city. He has always shown restraint, even in the face of death, but now that heavy snow is falling outside, echoing the growing white in his temples, he is reminded of the passing years and has given in. He has found a desk of massive oak in the father's library, and this dignified desk happens to be just the right height.

Thus the naked daughter gets lied down on it and the fifty-something Colonel learns what it truly means to occupy a town where he has absolute power. He does what he's always fantasized of doing in a dark corner of his soul, ashamed of these thoughts. He runs his hands all over the daughter while her sisters are screaming their life out amid the orgy of enlisted men elsewhere in the mansion.

"Young lady! At last! At last!" he bellows in a tongue she understands nothing of as he grabs her tits and feels her scared nipples in the palms of his hands. With the Majors watching, the dignified Colonel sucks the her tits and enjoys this violation of all these rules he normally believes in. He gets her legs up where the gathering of her bare feet shows him he can do this every night if he so chooses.

His cock grows young inside his trousers, which he pushes down while one of the middle-aged Majors laughs and fingers the sobbing girl while the other officer holds her in place with her legs up, their depraved gazes violating those legs and feet society do not want them to see. All three men have turned into satyrs who will only speak with their cock.

The Colonel's grunting yell speaks enough for itself when he invades the young lady and her entrance closes upon him as she yelps in pain and shock. She's deflowered! The regimental commander finds her wet and it slides well. The pressure is insane! So this is how it feels inside a young damsel! The youngest woman he ever had before was his wife, who was twenty-five on their wedding night thirty years ago. The damsel's hoovering feet near his face remind him of his wife, strangely enough, because feet is a bodypart that doesn't age very much.

But her legs are unmistakably young.

"Be a good girl, ahh! Ahh yes! Be a good girl and we'll give you hot-aah! Hot chai a... after..." the dignified Colonel tells her in Russian amid his exertions. Yes, this oak table is just the right height!

The exchange ends up in a grunting event where the gone-mad officer is bent over her and holds her waist as he dominates her ever-moving breasts, her nipples warm brown and filled with life on top of dancing knolls of virgin skin! His gone-young cock bursts and makes her a woman with the heat of his sperm.

Downstairs, her two young sisters are being made into women too, many times over, by Soviet Lithuanians who have beaten up her elder brother and her father, and now both men have to watch in horror. Her dignified mother was stripped out of her haughty dress and now she's used for sodomy. The Devil has taken over her house.

Then the Majors both take their pleasure inside the young woman, where they have moved her around so her buttocks get used as a soft buffer for their exertions. They call her a Czarist because her skin is so white! She needs to be Bolshevized and they're happy to do this for her. They could have had a quiet night as befits men of their years, but here they are, exerting themselves, nay straining themselves like horny young men. They made this sacrifice for her!

"I hope yer enjoying this--UUUUUUUUGGHH!!!"

"Isn't she pretty with her long chestnut hair?" the Colonel says. "Looks much better loose! I hate those high buns!"

Her ignorance of Lithuanian spares her the mortification carried by their words. Bent over with her cheek sliding on her father's library table, the damsel takes one enemy load after the other. She wonders. Why is the Czar losing if God is on his side?

***

Major Sidorov's Thoughts -- Two days earlier

Seeing Bilguun mounting Mina like a horny brigand made me hard again. My joy was unfathomable as I renewed the experience of mounting her dog-style, in this usual position that men from the east love so much. I just loved to watch her English buns pay respect to me. To us on this 22nd of December. She was war booty and I felt it in every fibre of my evil being!

I didn't deserve Sümeyye. This was why they kept rejecting my requests for a leave. The Soviet kept denying my own identity! Now I only existed as a nameless Major in the Czech Legion! In a mutinied Division whose status was beyond murky. Soviet, but on the verge of mutinying back to the Czarists, until the Lithuanians arrived as reinforcements and a purge had taken place where the British garrison was no doubt astonished to see us execute more than a hundred of our own men by firing squad.

The one reality left for me was to fuck. To fuck and live while being called a rapist in my head all day long. All night long. There was no escape from that ghost voice unless I was in high bliss, unless Nastya was suddenly there, then vanished. I closed my eyes out of fear of seeing her. The disfigured Nastya, who would often appear as such when I was with a living woman. Nastya was a jealous ghost. She turned my orgies into a nightmare. Every time. Then I thought of her! So white! Her feet! So dainty! And the fact she used to be a Grand Duchess.

I kept looking down at Mina's butt where we kept meeting amid her whimpering moans.

My cock lied to me by being so much younger than me as it burst deep inside her curves, my fingers sinking into her soft England while she mumbled something about something called Whitby and she spoke in crude Czech to thank me for my load and she felt this was well organized.

Major Kürschner took over. We fucked her all night long. She would lick and suck us clean. Once, I forgot to close my eyes and the disfigured white lady was right there. I turned pale.

"Why, Ivan, you look like you've seen a ghost!" Kürschner told me, grinning.

Nastya was already gone.


As a staff officer, I was there when our Brigade General met the enemy commander along with two British Captains, one who looked glamorous with a refined moustache only a British would wear; the other a nondescript middle-aged officer who spoke Russian and acted as the translator. The enemy commander was a Major who looked like a boy who had stumbled into his father's uniform and decided to wear it. His voice sounded just as boyish. And yet, this was the commander who had been resisting us for over two months with only two hundred men!

This was Christmas Eve, or rather late afternoon. Snow was falling on Ural's grand landscape of pine-covered hills. Everything was a grey silence of various tones. Dark trees. White snow. White sky. And the white lady in my head. "Rapist!"

Somewhere in the southwest, some clouds had gone alive in soft orange, as if England was trying to offer a comforting bowl of hot punch to her besieged sons, but the distance was too great. The theme remained steel grey.

The middle-aged Captain translated our offer of surrender with military honours, meaning the men would be allowed to leave with their weapons and go East to join the rest of the White Army. Only one word came as the answer.

"Hike!"

Our General was startled. "Hike?! What does that mean? I'm very sorry, but we do not understand the Major's answer!"

"I'll be glad to repeat it," said the middle-aged Captain. "The answer is hike!"

"Yes, yes, but what does it mean? Is it negative or positive?"

"I'm afraid that hike is strictly negative! It means be off, go away."

Our young General became livid with rage and said, "We're going to kill you all and rape your women!"

The Major smiled as the words were translated for him.

"Our men are ready to die for the King and we do not have any women," came the reply. The boyish-looking Major added something when we all exchanged a rigid salute.

"The Major wishes you the compliments of the season!"

Then we knew this was going to be a long winter. The English soldiers were tougher than Napoleon's army.

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