The brutality of war

When Russian soldiers overrun a Ukrainian Town, 4 of them brutalise a man and his wife.

Note: this story is really brutal, with a horrible ending. If you dislike such stories then best not read.

The town of Velyka Novosilka fell like a house of cards on a cold February evening in 2024. The Ukrainian defenders had held the line for weeks, but the Russian artillery barrage had been relentless—shells raining down from the east, turning streets into craters and homes into rubble. By dusk, the first T-90 tanks rumbled through the outskirts, followed by columns of infantry from the 155th Marine Brigade, hardened men from the Pacific Fleet who'd been redeployed to this frozen hell. They swept through the village with mechanical efficiency, kicking in doors, dragging out anyone who resisted, executing suspected fighters on the spot.

Screams echoed through the snow-dusted air, mixed with the crack of gunfire and the distant boom of ongoing bombardments.

In a modest two-story house on the edge of town, Olena and her husband Mykola huddled in the kitchen. The power had been out for days, the only light coming from a single candle flickering on the table. Olena, 38, a schoolteacher with dark hair tied back in a ponytail and lines of worry etched into her face, clutched a kitchen knife. Mykola, 42, a mechanic with calloused hands and a beard streaked with grey, held a crowbar he'd pulled from the garage. Their two sons, Andriy and Bohdan, 20 and 22, were off fighting in the east—Andriy with the 93rd Mechanized Brigade, Bohdan in a volunteer unit. They'd sent a letter two weeks ago, saying they were alive, but nothing since.
"We stay quiet," Mykola whispered, his voice steady but his eyes darting to the window. "They might pass us by."

Olena nodded, her heart pounding. The distant gunfire had grown closer, the rumble of vehicles shaking the foundations. Then, suddenly, the front door splintered inward with a deafening crash. Four Russian soldiers burst in, rifles raised, faces smeared with camouflage paint and dirt. They were young—mid-20s—except for the sergeant, a grizzled man in his 40s with a scar across his cheek. Their uniforms were mud-caked, eyes wild from adrenaline and whatever vodka they'd looted along the way.

"Hands up!" the sergeant barked in Russian, sweeping the room with his AK-74M. The others fanned out, kicking over furniture, smashing a vase on the mantel.

Mykola stepped forward, crowbar raised. "Get out of our house! We have nothing!"

The sergeant laughed—a short, ugly bark. "Nothing? We take what we want, khokhol." He nodded to one of the soldiers, a stocky private with a shaved head.

The private lunged, swinging the butt of his rifle into Mykola's stomach. Mykola doubled over, gasping. Another soldier, a lanky one with a tattoo peeking from his collar, kicked him in the ribs, sending him sprawling to the floor. Olena screamed, rushing forward with the knife. The sergeant grabbed her wrist, twisted it until she dropped the blade. He backhanded her across the face, the blow splitting her lip and sending her staggering into the table. The candle toppled, plunging the room into near-darkness, lit only by the soldiers' flashlights.

"Stupid bitch," the sergeant snarled. "You think you can fight us?"

The soldiers descended on Mykola. The stocky one stomped on his hand, crushing fingers with a sickening crunch. Mykola howled. The lanky one kicked him in the face, blood spraying from his nose. The fourth soldier, a skinny kid who looked barely 20, punched him in the gut repeatedly, laughing as Mykola curled into a ball, pleading "Stop… please… we have children…"

Olena tried to crawl to him, but the sergeant yanked her up by her hair. "Your sons? They're dead already, fighting for Nazis. Now watch your husband learn his place."

The soldiers beat Mykola until he was a bloody mess on the floor, ribs cracked, face swollen, one eye shut. He gasped for air, spitting blood, begging "Please… no more… take what you want…"

The sergeant turned to Olena, still holding her by the hair. "What we want? We take you."

Olena's blood ran cold. "No… please… my husband…"

The sergeant slapped her again, harder this time, her head snapping back. "Shut up, whore. You're Ukrainian trash. We'll use you like the slut you are."

He threw her to the floor beside Mykola. The soldiers circled her. The stocky one grabbed her blouse, ripped it open, buttons flying. Olena screamed, arms crossing over her chest. The lanky one yanked her arms away, pinning them above her head. The skinny kid pulled her skirt up, tearing the fabric, exposing her legs.

"Look at this bitch," the sergeant said, kneeling down. He slapped her thighs, forcing them apart. "Nice legs for a khokhol whore. Bet she's loose from all the NATO cocks she's taken."

Mykola tried to crawl toward her. "No… leave her… please…"

The stocky one kicked him in the head. "Watch, pig. Watch us ruin your wife."
The sergeant pulled Olena's panties aside. Spat on her pussy. Shoved two fingers in roughly. She cried out, body arching in pain. "Dry as a desert," he laughed. "We'll fix that."

He finger-fucked her hard, twisting, while the lanky one slapped her tits, pinching her nipples until they bled. The skinny kid unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock, stroking it as he watched.

"She's getting wet," the sergeant said. "Ukrainian sluts always do."

Olena sobbed, "No… stop… please…"

Mykola wept, "Olena… I'm sorry… fight them…"
The sergeant pulled his fingers out, smeared the wetness on her face. "Shut up, both of you."

He stood, unzipped. His cock was thick, veined, already hard. He grabbed her hair, forced her onto her knees. "Suck it, bitch."
Olena resisted, mouth closed. He slapped her — left, right, left — until her cheeks burned red. "Open!"

She opened. He shoved in, hitting the back of her throat. She gagged, retched. He held her head, fucked her mouth like a toy. Drool poured down her chin, mixed with tears.
The lanky one pulled her skirt off completely, spread her legs. "My turn."
He knelt between her thighs, spat on his cock, and rammed into her pussy. Olena screamed around the sergeant's cock, body jerking. The lanky one pounded her hard, slapping her ass with each thrust. "Tight cunt for a mum of two. Bet your sons would be proud."

Mykola crawled closer, "Stop… please… take me instead…"

The stocky one stomped on his back. "Watch, or we kill you now."

The sergeant pulled out of her mouth, slapped her with his cock. "Turn over, whore. On all fours."

They flipped her. The skinny kid took her mouth, fucking her throat while the lanky one re-entered her pussy from behind. The sergeant knelt beside her, rubbing his cock on her face. "DP time, boys."

The stocky one lay under her, cock hard. They lowered her onto him, his thickness filling her pussy. She screamed. Then the lanky one spread her ass cheeks, spat on her hole, and pushed into her ass. Double penetration, pussy and ass filled, stretching her to tearing. Pain exploded through her. She howled, body convulsing.
"Take it, Ukrainian slut," the sergeant barked, slapping her face. "This is what you get for fighting Russia."

They fucked her like that, stocky one in her pussy, lanky in her ass, thrusting out of sync so she was always full, always hurting. The skinny kid throat-fucked her, gagging her screams. They slapped her tits, pinched her clit, pulled her hair.

"Piss on her," the sergeant ordered.
The skinny kid pulled out, pissed on her face, hot, acrid stream hitting her eyes, mouth, hair. She choked, spluttered. The others laughed, keeping up the rhythm.
"She's cumming," the lanky one grunted. "The whore's cumming on our cocks."

Olena was, against her will, body betraying her, orgasm ripping through the pain. She screamed, convulsed, tears mixing with piss.
Mykola sobbed on the floor, "Olena… no… please stop…"

The sergeant grabbed Mykola by the hair, forced him to watch close up. "See your wife, pig? She's loving it. Ukrainian women are all sluts for Russian cock."

The stocky one came first, flooding her pussy with hot cum. The lanky one followed, filling her ass. They pulled out, cum leaking from both holes. The skinny kid jerked off over her back, adding his load.
The sergeant stood over her, pissed on her face and tits, a long, steaming stream that soaked her hair and clothes. "Mark our territory," he said. The others joined, pissing on her body, laughing as she curled up, sobbing.

They stepped back. Olena lay in a puddle of piss and cum, body bruised, holes sore and leaking.

The sergeant knelt by Mykola. Pressed a pistol to his temple.

"Fuck her," he said. "Fuck your whore wife. Or die."

Mykola shook his head, crying. "No… I can't…"

The sergeant cocked the gun. "Do it. Or we kill you both."

The soldiers laughed. Forced Mykola up, stripped his pants down. His cock was hard, ashamed, humiliated arousal from the horror.
He crawled to Olena, tears streaming.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Forgive me."
Olena lay there, eyes empty. "Do it," she whispered. "Just do it."

He entered her pussy, slick with cum and piss. She gasped in pain. He fucked her slowly, sobbing the whole time, humiliated by his hardness, by the soldiers' jeers.
"Look at the cuck," the lanky one laughed. "Hard from watching us ruin his wife."
Mykola came fast, adding his load to the mess inside her, ashamed tears falling on her chest.

The soldiers applauded mockingly.
The sergeant stood. "Good show."
He raised the pistol. Shot Mykola in the head. Blood sprayed across Olena's face.
She screamed.

The sergeant turned the gun on her. "Your turn, slut."

The last thing Olena saw was the muzzle flash.

The soldiers left the house, laughing, moving on to the next door. The town burned behind them. War's brutality rolled on, leaving only ruins and silence.

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By [email protected]