Red Sunset --- Chapter 9: The Cobblestones of Tyumen

The grand duchesses and their retinue are escorted through Tyumen, but things are not so simple!

Any Lithuanian who had been asleep on deck was awaken, by the rising sun, or more often by their peers tapping on his shoulder and silently telling him he had to get going for his day of sentry duty. There also remained one final pleasure to be taken from the young ladies. Washing them!

By now, too many soldiers and sailors were pressing themselves around Tamara and Countess Hendrikoff. So the others took the Doctor, Tamara's father and General Tatischev and they escorted them downstairs in their respective cabins aft of the steamer. Down there hid the Doctor's wife and the young serving maids, each of whom had managed to get away from the rapes and humiliations at some point during the night and thus had fled back in their unlock-able cabins, when many Lithuanians had drunk themselves to slumber.

Again, screams resonated through the hallway. One man, the French tutor, tried to interfere and was told by two stiff punches in his midsection, from a strong Lithuanian, that he was ill-advised to try to stop the unstoppable.

The girls and the blonde wife were all brought back upstairs on deck, where the morning sun caressed their exhausted faces with golden light as the grinning Lithuanians and sailors promptly stripped them out of whatever dresses they had hastily put on. The girls begged them to please spare their clothes! Since they were in a happy mood, the men allowed them to strip themselves if they didn't want to have their last remaining clothes destroyed, although the doctor's wife did have several spare dresses.

And this is why she was restrained while Linus and Jonas ripped and shredded all her garments off her. She offered a busty bosom with strong nipples that had breast-fed five infants since her wedding. She was still young, still beautiful with legs the men found naturally pleasing to rub, and her bottom was even more fun to rub and look at as they washed her, with a myriad of water pearls catching the sun. A visual feast for the exhausted rapists who nonetheless grinned under the morning sky.

Captain Sidorov was there. He had finally found Dimitri. Near Tamara. Washing her. The deflowered maiden with her long raven hair offered a dramatic nakedness as the lines of her legs and her gentle breasts were being kissed by the sun, with galaxies of water pearls. Sidorov could readily imagine how the Lithuanians must have raped her all night long. Her face now was stoic and her delicate eyebrows showed she had surrendered to their lust hours ago. Her small feet on deck, amid all these grinning men who kept washing her ass, offered a delightful contrast that had the 46-year-old officer feeling a sensual torpor in front of Tamara, whom he accurately appraised her age at around eighteen. He took a mental note for later on the train, where he'd try her out himself, for he could already imagine enjoying her bent over, or perhaps force her to give him her mouth.

"She must be a well-trained little tramp by now!" Sidorov said aloud, smiling and seizing this opportunity to further his leadership over the unkempt platoon. The rough, illiterate Lithuanians laughed and nodded once someone had translated the Komroty's words.

"Buckaroo!" a few of them shouted as a show of appreciation for their Komroty. Someone offered him the last of a vodka bottle, and Sidorov drank it in one final swig.

The serving maids attracted more men due to their younger age and their virginal lines and contours, which were the only vestiges of their virtue. They were slimmer and firmer all over. The exhausted rapists felt a queer form of elation from being able to touch them as much as they wanted as they washed them. The men were shocked by their own behaviour. In the past, they had raped without a shred of dignity. Now there was something on this ship that made them more gentle in their ways. Private Merkus wondered about it as he was rubbing the breasts of the blonde maid, the one whose sunny braids had survived many rapes. Petia Malinowski his platoon leader offered an explanation.

"The way we raped those girls; it feels almost poetic! Why were we so gentle?" Merkus wondered.

"It has to be the Grand Duchesses. Their presence on the Russ makes us different," Petia replied.

"Yes, that must be it, Sir. This or the fact a man died last night. At any rate, this is a magnificent sunrise!"

***
Sidorov's thoughts...

I don't have the heart in myself to go see Nastya. I know she was kept the whole night in the Skipper's cabin under the protection of Rodionov, whatever this protection be worth. I didn't go in that cabin, not even once during the night. I was too afraid to find out what I feared the most, in which case I would have killed Rodionov and also shot each and every man on the spot. The result would have been me getting arrested then shot, and my wife Sumeyye getting arrested and gang-violated. I have a very hard time believing that Nastya remained unscathed. Not on this ship, not with all those satyrs on it. I'm tired, so tired! I had no sleep. None of us did.

Tamara is so beautiful! I loved to see this small girl as the Lithuanians washed her while the sun bathed the entire ship with golden light. Her hair looked so black! Like Sumeyye, the rosy-cheek version of her! The long hair resting on her shoulders, on her back silently spoke of the new day with all these strands lit up by sunlight; the coal-black triangle between her legs spoke of that night when she lost her innocence many times over. She kept mumbling things in Lithuanian. One of the men, the accordionist with his stout beard, came and told me she kept repeating, "A negro, why a negro? ... why? I had begun to understand, now this. Why?"

I thank the man, who was clearly concerned about the poor girl's sanity. He seemed to genuinely like her. Why wouldn't he? I want to see this Tamara. She obviously was exhausted as the Lithuanians kept rubbing her nakedness with water, washing her skin, while nothing could ever wash her shame.

"You seem very troubled, Tamara," I said. She didn't answer. She just kept mumbling the same words in the soldiers' language.

"Negras... Kodėl?"

"You were raped by a negro, right?"

She didn't say anything. Only looked at me. So much rage and anger in her face! I understood.

"Would it satisfy you, Milady, if the one who did this paid for it?"

Tamara looked at me with white fire in her dark eyes. She ignored the men rubbing her, something that would have greatly mortified her a day earlier. She even looked at the Countess and the maids, who all kept feebly protesting under the rubbing hands; her dark eyes were ablaze with contempt!

"I want him skinned alive! Emasculated in front of me! Do this and I'm yours for the whole night."

"Komroty, we need to organize the watches."

This was Dimitri. His presence irritated me, then I spoke.

"Dimitri, how many negroes on this ship?"

"Uh, what? Two I think, yes two. The stewards, but why?"

"Take Boris and two other men and go arrest them both. Both! Then bring them here!"

Tamara was smiling with dark pleasure in her eyes. She stood there, oblivious of the fact she was naked amid all those myrmidons who kept rubbing her and devouring her small-girl beauty with eyes and hands. She was the toughest girl I had ever seen!

Down in her cabin, Olga was still naked and amid the worst humiliations of her life. The pack of her tormentors, tattooed sailors and guards, had kept her kneeling amid them and forced to pleasure them all with her mouth, the threat on her baby sister had kept her an obedient slave. One by one, she had sucked the cocks of these unwashed brigands. Peasants all of them! With musk-loaded cocks alien to soap.

Tatiana was being bucked from behind by the indefatigable steward boy while his father was gone on deck. The other young guards also took their turn in making sure Tania would be sore down there for weeks to come. And branded for life as a shamed and fallen member of Imperial royalty.

When Dimitri came down, Boris was busy slapping his exhausted cock on Tatiana's face while the negro boy laughed and masturbated along with several other men. There was still some lingering rage on her face as she got soft-hit by Boris's soggy cock.

"Boris, arrest this boy!"

"Wh-what?!"

"You heard me. Arrest this negro boy. Take Oleg and Sergei. We need to find the other one. You, boy, where's your fellow negro? Speak! No, leave your clothes alone, you're coming as you are!"

It was a flabbergasted Boris who executed Sidorov's order. The Son was naked and trembling in fear. The Father was soon found among the pack of men who were rubbing the Countess and all her naked charms that had been violated ad nauseam the previous night.

Soon, both negroes stood before Captain Sidorov, who turned to Tamara.

"Which one raped you?" the Komroty asked. His uniform looked so neat that no one would suspect he had taken his pleasure and partaken to an orgy the whole night through. He also looked sober.

"It's this one! He raped me!" Tamara bellowed, pointing at the Father, whose eyes grew in terror as he saw the expression in every white man present on the deck. He was being made a scapegoat! He should have known better! Should have gone and hide and stay out of sight, he and his son. Now it was too late.

"What's this about?" the First Mate asked loud and clear, his face showing signs of great fatigue and a bit too much liquor. The third mate swiftly told him. Rodionov presently went out of the dead Skipper's cabin, leading Nastya by the hand. Nastya was the only girl on the Russ's deck who was fully clothed. Sidorov saw her and his heart turned to water. Nastya was but a spectre of who she used to be; she looked down at the deck, a girl showing all signs of unfathomable shame. Or perhaps she was simply very tired...

Sidorov entered in a rage! He felt like pulling out his revolver and shooting Rodionov through the head! Right here and there, in front of everyone! There were forty-five Lithuanians, a dozen sailors and a handful of guards and officers on deck, along with seven women who had been abused the whole night. He concentrated his rage on the negroes. A confusion of emotions assaulted his senses. There was the prospect of a night with Tamara, who reminded him a bit of Sumeyye at a younger age. Most of all, there was his rage of having most likely failed to protect Nastya. Someone had to pay!

"Negro, you raped her!" Sidorov said, pointing at Tamara.

The older steward, wearing only trousers, his torso bare, said nothing. He knew nothing he'd say would save him. It was too late for him. He could only save his son, by remaining silent.

"But Father! All those men..."

"Tais-toi, Jean-Dire. Pour l'amour de Dieu, tais-toi!" (Be silent, Jean-Dire. For the love of God, be silent!)

The obedient son went silent, his expression showing great fear and concern.

Hearing spoken French further enraged Tamara. "I want him emasculated! Right here! Right now!" she hollered, looking intensely at Sidorov. The naked girl looked strong, her breasts giving her more majesty in her moment of sun-bathed wrath. The raped girl had morphed into a vengeful Amazon. "Emasculated, then shot! Shot for what he did!"

All men around her, especially the Lithuanians, nodded in agreement. Most of the rapists felt guilty about the orgy of dark evil pleasures they had indulged in. They all found relief in the accusation of a scapegoat. They would all feel better after someone would have paid for their own sins. The Father understood this and knew he was lost. Only the Son could be saved. The collective spirit in these white men was too strongly set against him.

The First Mate didn't say anything. Rodionov remained silent under his black peak-cap, still holding Nastya by the hand as she kept looking down, even looking away from the scene she clearly didn't want to see. Stefan and Yuri stood nearby, both grinning with an evil smile. Sidorov was free to do as he pleased. He needed to vent his anger and his sense of failure toward Anastasia.

Sidorov pulled out his revolver and aimed it at the Son.

"Noo! Kill me! But please, spare my son!" the older negro begged.

"Boris, take your knife and emasculate this boy! Oleg, Sergei, hold the Father and let him watch!"

While the terrified boy was easily held by Boris who pulled a sharp hunting knife, the Father entered a fit of desperate rage. He made small work of Oleg and Sergei, hammering them down with terrible blows from his hands, but Dimitri pulled his own Nagant on him and the huge Polish cook presently grabbed and restrained the Father, telling him he never liked him and laughed as Boris swiftly began cutting the boy's genitals.

The naked boy's visceral scream echoed throughout the silent ship. He was soon made an eunuch, a pool of blood forming between his feet, in front of his father, whose eyes were worlds of suffering as he no longer could speak. Then, Sidorov ordered the cook to push the older negro in front of him.

The Father staggered on deck, where nobody stood behind him; just the railings and the river. Sidorov shot him twice. In the groin, then through the head.

"Dump this sack of dung into the river and take this eunuch to the Doctor," Sidorov commanded as he put his smoking Nagant back into its holster.

"He died too quickly! I wanted him to suffer!" Tamara protested.

"He was emasculated, then shot, like you said," Sidorov replied.

"No, this is not what I wanted, I... OWW!!!"

Sidorov had walked on Tamara and slapped her. None of the Lithuanians dare oppose Captain "Buckaroo" Sidorov, who took Tamara by the hand and dragged her all across the deck and past Rodionov.

He took Tamara to the Skipper's cabin, where he found himself alone with her, except for one guard who had fallen asleep and now snored on the floor. Ignoring the naked girl's protests, he pushed her to the Skipper's table, bent her over and soon, his trousers were down and he penetrated her as she screamed in pain.

"If you don't understand what happened on deck, then you will understand THIS! Arrhhhh! Aaarrrh! Rrhh rrrh rrrh rrrh rrrhhh rrrh rrrrrhhh..."

Tamara squealed, her unprepared vagina killing her! She was so sore down there! But the tall man kept her chest flat on the table and there was nothing she could do under his weight as he raped her while pressed upon her. He hammered her deeper and deeper until he was raping her to the hilt and licking the back of her neck in the black disheveled chaos of her hair as he pounded her so viciously that the massive table was sliding under his constant pushes inside the squealing girl, whose eyes were bathed in tears as she remained there, her right cheek flattened against the table and sliding back and forth while the man lost his peak-cap and ravaged her in all-out frenzy until he filled the cabin with a loud detonating yell! Sidorov nearly died as he ragingly erupted inside her!

"Now girl! Behave and stop whining!" Sidorov said to the hurt girl who wouldn't stop wailing.

He then went downstairs and found ten of his men in the act of washing Olga and Tatiana. Olga in a pitiful state of terror, Tania angry and full of contempt for the men rubbing her.

"Good news for you, sisters! You get a rest!" Sidorov exclaimed, and he left the oldest guard as sentry for both grand duchesses, knowing full well that this man was too spent to do anything other than stand there as ordered. Then the nine other men were ordered up to the Skipper's cabin, where they'd find "a troublemaker who needed a lesson in humility".

Tamara was thus raped by six of seven of these young fellows while the Skipper was given the sailor's funeral he had required in his last will.

The Skipper's body had been put in a bag of tarpaulin with some cast iron weights attached around his ankles. It was a short ceremony attended by the ship's crew, the Lithuanians, Dimitri acting as drill Sergeant and the Countess in the nude. With more naked girls including the Doctor's wife. As requested in his last will, the Skipper was committed to the river's waters. Ten Lithuanians fired an honour salvo with their rifles, causing as many ducks to take flight, and a white swan along with them.

As the ten rifle shots echoed far and away against the army of spruces guarding the winding river, silence returned on deck, where all men looked at the Countess whose bare tits and brown-haired cunt were now a most natural sight. The silence was only broken by Tamara's whimpers heard from the dead Skipper's cabin as she was being disciplined by guards.

***

The Russ weighed anchor. The men, dog-tired, all took turns in sleeping while a minimal watch was kept. All the girls who had served were allowed to return to their cabins where they were comforted by their fellow women as the Doctor made his rounds and did whatever he could. Nearly all the girls were soon asleep, including the Countess, who soon dreamed she was thrown into the Nile river where Lithuanian-speaking crocodiles kept biting her between the legs and devoured her breasts. General Tatischev, Tamara's father and even the Doctor were shunned since they had "partaken". Tamara only found solace with her cat. She spent the rest of the forenoon stroking Daisy on her lap while her father slept in the same cabin. She was too troubled to sleep and didn't know whether she should break down in tears or remain there in silent stupor. She felt lucky to have made it alive.

Sidorov distracted himself by shooting clay pigeons thrown by Dimitri. Sidorov was comforted by the familiar smell of gunpowder along with the sound of his firing Nagant. He would later thoroughly clean it. Dimitri felt overexcited by the thought of Tamara as he kept reliving his time inside her, while Sidorov longed for Nastya's innocent kisses.

In the dead Skipper's cabin, Rodionov cried himself to sleep, thinking of Nadja his dead sister.

Most of the shamed and sore girls didn't come up for breakfast, which wasn't served, and not even for lunch later on. The other women didn't come up either, out of solidarity, although they were famished by this time. Olga and Tatiana were the exception. They did it for two reasons. Out of defiance and pushed by their regal instinct, in order to show strength in public. And because it had been longest since they had not seen Anastasia and the Tsarevitch. Olga even posed for a picture taken by the Second Mate along with her little brother while waiting for lunch to be served. [See picture]

Nastya looked down in shame when she met her sisters. No word was spoken. All was understood. Olga's heart turned to water! Tatiana was at her side and whispered something, reminding her elder sister to stay strong in front of those brigands. The Polish cook was in the most jovial mood as he prepared lunch. Anyone in the galley overheard his whistling. Rodionov and several guards were there along with the first and second mates, keeping a guilt-filled distance from the grand duchesses.

As he ate a soup with bread, Sidorov avoided Nastya's gaze. It wasn't hard to do as she ate little, keeping her head cast down while her sisters ate with an air of sulky defiance.

All the sleeping men would soon be waken up. The ship was approaching Tyumen; so all guards got up and ate, then went on to their official duty; to guard the grand duchesses, and also to guard against any attempt by a girl to throw herself in the Irtysh river. This while quietly smiling as they thought about their unofficial, off-the-records so-called duty to "entertain" the ladies at night. What a rush it had been! Many of them still had that lingering blissful sensation in their legs as they stood watch.

When they led Tatiana and Olga for a short stroll on the cleaned-up deck, the inner guards all knew what treasures lay hidden under their travel dresses while Olga's and Tania's wide-brimmed hats cast shadows over the sorrow written all over their regal features. The grand duchesses also knew what manly power lay quiet under their khaki uniforms, for they had tasted and felt it.

***

At twenty past two, the Russ was in sight of Tyumen. The sky was now overcast with a definite threat of rain.

As the steamer made its final approach to the wharf under the command of her acting captain, all hands and everyone was called or escorted to the deck. The local Kommissar, a tall man with a definite air of self-importance, was waiting. With a contingent of no less than three hundred soldiers from the garrison.

Once the ship was moored, Rodionov came down the gangplank and saluted his equal in rank.

"Nice of you to welcome us in such style, Komrade, but why so many men?" Rodionov said as he cast a worried look at those three hundred troops.

"Kommissar Rodionov, I must ask you to leave citizens Olga, Tatiana and Anastasia Romanova here in our custody along with their entourage. White forces are approaching and it's not safe for them to be allowed to continue."

"On whose authority? Do you have any orders? I have mine, from Moscow, and I'm taking them to Yekaterinburg."

"I don't need any orders. Local chekas have leeway to act independently in the presence of danger."

"Not when the former Czar and his family are the matter!"

"Whites are approaching!"

"Nonsense! The closest reported enemy force is at least 200 verstes away from here!"

"Whites are approaching I say!"

"I know what you're trying to do, but you and your men will be shot if you don't let us pass!"

There were rumors among the ranks of the local troops and a large crowd of people was quickly gathering. The local soldiers were looking at the prettier girls who stood on the ship's deck; and they didn't like what they saw. No girls, but only shadows of what used to be rosy-cheeked girls. Their officers had persuaded them they would get to rape fresh girls, but now they were predictably disappointed. No way they would risk their skin for girls who were all used up!

The Major in command was a vain man, a case of delusional self-importance even worse than his Kommissar. He saw what was happening and felt cheated by life, for he strongly desired Tatiana Romanova and had hoped for the privilege of being first inside her, and he would enjoy her even in a used-up state. She was royalty! He gave angry orders to his junior officers, who meekly relayed them, but it only made matters worse.

"Let this fool mutiny by himself!" said a highly respected Sergeant in a regional variant of Russian.

Rodionov noticed the change and gave a smug smile to his honoured colleague. "I think, my friend, that the wind has turned. No hard feelings. I'll have someone fetch a bottle of the finest cognac you'll ever drink. You may keep the bottle. I must be on my way, Komrade. I have my orders!"

Major Zelenski was Ukrainian and had been stationed near Georgia back in 1900 when he was a Private fresh out of training. When he saw Captain Sidorov, he instantly recognized the elite shooter who had competed in Paris that year. Zelenski fancied himself as being Russia's fastest and deadliest hand with a sidearm. In his state of anger, he didn't notice how low Sidorov was carrying his holster, right where his hand would fall on his revolver's handle. He didn't notice his gun-sight eyes either. Any skilled shooter with an ounce of brain would have passed his turn upon seeing Sidorov. Not Major Zelenski.

Major Zelenski went straight ahead and met Sidorov as he came down the gangplank ahead of his guards leading the grand duchesses along the with the Tsarevitch and Nagorny, followed by the rest of the retinue, where the pretty girls were being helped to walk. Just as Nastya, always pretty in her deep-blue travel dress, was being helped by Tatiana while Olga was limping.

"Ivan Sidorov, the man who finished fourth in Paris!" the Major said. "Must have been tough to miss a medal by just one place!"

Dimitri looked at Zelenski with an expression that said only one thing. "Step aside, fool!"

Sidorov only nodded and gave the superior officer a brief salute, which the Major did not return. He raised his shoulders and had started to walk again when Zelenski spoke again, "Are you still practicing? Because I am!" the smug officer said.

Definitely not in a good mood to begin with, Sidorov looked at the annoying man with nothing but cold, silent anger. He noticed he was carrying an American revolver, a .45 Colt, very powerful, but heavy and consequently a bit slower to draw. And he was carrying it way to high, at his waist. He'd never get that gun out in time if he was in a showdown. Any real gun-fighter would easily shoot him. Knowing what would happen if he ignored the Major, Sidorov tried to move past him and Zelenski put a stopping hand upon his shoulder.

"You and I, we could have fun together and find out what fast really is."

"Not to-day! I'm not in the mood to play silly games and I already know what fast is. Now move away!"

"Are you backing down? Because I... Oww!"

Sidorov had slapped the Major. The respected Sergeant from the local garrison smiled while the junior officers looked petrified.

"Why don't you go home before I blow up that big head of yours?" Sidorov said, his eyes positively morphed into gun-sights, but his hands began to tremble, as he realized he was about to face a man one-on-one in a gunfight for the first time in his life. This target would be able to shoot back and this would be nothing like fighting in an industrial-scale war where nameless fellows gunned down other men who had numbers for names.

"I'm going to kill you, Sidorov. You're as good as dead!"

Organically, room was made for both officers, who took distance between each other along the wharf while everybody in the vicinity cleared the fire path behind each man.

Once the Major in his dark uniform stood about fifteen paces away, Sidorov faced him and spoke... "So you like to read American novels! Well, make your pl..."

POw!!!

One shot had been fired.

It echoed under the lead-grey heavens as the silence grew heavy, under granite-heavy clouds as a swarm of gulls took their frightened flight.

Zelenski stood tall, wearing his smug smile. His hands holding his .45 Colt where he did not clear leather in time; his eyes round with shock. He had thought he could surprise Sidorov, whose silvery Nagant was somehow pointed right at him, with its barrel smoking.

"I... I think I'm beat--ten..." the Major said. He then collapsed.

The Romanovs' Doctor ran to him and knelt by his side. After checking Zelenski's pulse and eyes, he rose and shook his head. A young woman in distress came running out of the crowd and threw herself on the dead officer, in tears. Her wailing broke the silence...

"Grigory! Grigory! Why? Why did you have to do this!" the wife cried, sobbing, her head resting on his still chest, her light-brown hair loose as she had lost her hat. The Doctor did his best to comfort her while his eyes naturally noticed the pleasing shapes of her hips and her ass curves through her respectable dress. The wife kept wailing.

"What have I done?" Sidorov asked himself in his thoughts as he walked away, fearing the young widow's gaze. "I should have stopped this!" he said to Dimitri once near his men.

Boris patted him on the shoulder.

"No pat on the back! I just murdered a man in cold blood! This man had a loving wife and a family. Now there's a widow. I should have stopped this!"

"What's done is done, Komroty. We need to get going. If I may, I'll walk the men..." Dimitri said.

"No, I'll walk them. It will do me good!"

The junior officers walked to their deceased commander while the soldiers left for their barracks. An angry Captain yelled at them. "Who ordered you to leave? Stay!" But the men left anyway, very peacefully in something akin to a silent mutiny. The soldiers cast one last look at Tatiana, Tamara and the other young women; all were in a pitiful state.

"Very disappointing!" said a local soldier as all were marching.

"Disappointing, but predictable. What did they expect? Of course they raped the girls during the night! We would have done the same."

"I think we should do a pogrom in the Jewish neighbourhood downtown."

"Sounds great! Jewish girls are tight and pretty. They won't expect it, 'cause it's been a long while since the last pogrom here, at least five years. Pogroms are a good cure against boredom!"

"I'm all for more Jewish in town. Raping their daughters is so much fun!"

A few drops of rain fell on the flagged stones as the local Kommissar took a glass from Rodionov's cognac and kept the bottle as a thank-you gift. The troops had left and the dead Major was being carried away on a stretcher by four Lieutenants. Followed by the widow, who was being helped to walk by the Captain who had barked at the leaving soldiers.

Tyumen was growing fast. It had surpassed Tobolsk by 1900. The booming town was a major hub with a station along the Trans-Siberian Railway. Early in the Civil War in 1917, forces loyal to Admiral Alexander Kolchak and his Siberian White Army controlled Tyumen, but Soviet insurrectionists had taken control on January 5, 1918. There were still many people loyal to the Czarist cause in Tyumen, and this translated into an increasing tension between the crowd and the platoon of sixty men who were escorting the grand duchesses. And growing tensions within the local crowd.

Some people were throwing flower petals on the cobblestones in the way to downtown where Sidorov began to march the platoon of outer and inner guards with the Kommissar walking right beside him while each girl who had been gang-molested during the night was being helped to walk or carried by unscathed members of the retinue. General Tatischev was speaking to the crowd and trying to excite Czarist people.

"Shut him up!" Sidorov barked. "Shut this old bugger up! Kill him if he won't shut his big potato masher!"

Tatischev was soon silenced thanks to a well-aimed rifle-butt from Merkus. Sidorov smiled as the small force began to make their way through the crowd, but a few people picked up stones and threatened to start throwing them at the Red soldiers.

"If anyone throws a stone, SHOOT TO KILL!" Sidorov ordered, praying to God nobody in the crowd would dare throw a stone. He knew the Lithuanians worshiped him and would obey without question and he was sure of his own men of the inner guard. He had only sixty men against a crowd of a thousand that was quickly turning into a hostile mob. But his soldiers had rifles that would find easy marks in this dense crowd. But there were women and children among them!

Fights broke out here and there among the press of people while Sidorov made some headway with his platoon and the retinue of civilians in their midst. The rain nearly subsided entirely. People were throwing petal flowers to honour the flagstones whereon the grand duchesses would soon walk. Others shouted threats of violence against the Romanovs. Others saluted the Red soldiers and began to hit anyone who looked or sounded Czarist, while pro-White people fought back.

The platoon kept advancing with a steady step while the rain intensified. Sidorov saw a brawl amid the crowd, not far from where he was. Two men were being pummeled down to the ground by twice as many while others were grabbing their women, who began to scream as sounds of ripping fabric reached Sidorov's ears and he saw the sudden flash of white skin and the nice tiny brown dots—her nipples and a pleasing play of breasts that got wet from the rain—as the woman was made topless and assaulted.

"Naaoooooo! Nooooaa aaaa aaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" she cried, her hair loose as one old man in vile clothes began to kiss one of her breasts. The other woman was already on the ground and a man got on top of her while no less than eight men made a circle around their friends, creating enough space to allow the rape to occur.

More and more, the mob lost interest in the soldiers escorting the grand duchesses as a rich merchant and his family realized he was being encircled and his four bodyguards were being beaten down with sticks, fists and kicks. The Lithuanians didn't see anything of the merchant's daughters, but Lord did they hear them!

This merchant happened to be with his wife and their twin daughters. Both damsels a bit too young to be of age for marriage. Little damsels with fancy dresses and perfumes who were well known in town for their snobbery and the contempt in their eyes whenever they saw commoners.

When a pack of angry proletarians grabbed them, both daughters screamed as shrill and loud as if each had a king cobra biting their virginity, which both realized they were about to lose.

"Why? Why?" the merchant cried just before he got pummeled down to a bloody-faced, nose-broken heap on the cobblestones while the shrieks from his daughters tore the down-pouring rain as the commoners took their revenge!

"Now, little snob tramp! Now!"

"Give us our bread and games!" shouted a strong iron-smith as he tore a twin's dress top and made short work of her corset!

The men's angry hands devoured their dresses in a frenzy of ripping sounds. "Please, stop! We're only fourteen, please! Nooo! Daddy! Daddy, do something! Naaah aaaaaah aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh I don't ww.. want this,naaaah please!"

"Nooo noo, leave them alone! My beautiful honey angels!"

The wife was roughed up and groped, but the men only had eyes for the delightfully pristine daughters, who soon both lay naked amid the pack of grinning proletarians, whose eyes took unfathomable delight in the free possession of their slender nakedness. From their dainty feet to their wet raven hair under the rain, both had lovely lines and taut curves that proved a sufficient cause for as many erections as there were men standing over them!

"Today we're getting even, tramps! Tramps both of you!"

Sidorov, his revolver out and ready to fire, made further headway as the rain further increased. He and his men found enough discipline to resist the urge of staying and watching the gang-rape. Both girls were shrieking so poignantly that it was clear they were being violated under the rain. The proletarians would do anything they had secretly fancied with those girls, be it forcing them to taste a commoner's cock, shooting loads on their breasts, licking their ass, this on top of the main attraction they offered in their tight pussy and their even tighter ass-hole. Sidorov didn't need to watch to see the rape in progress.

Amid the surreal press, a man screamed like a sick banshee as he emptied his stores of jism inside one of the naked damsels while the torn remains of her fancy purple dress were being trampled by a dozen men eagerly waiting their turn and ignoring the rain as they proudly presented their manhood to this little lady whose body they all adored, as proven by their rigid state. Each girl was hearing her sister's cries and whimpers as she was herself violated. Again. Again. And then some more by men who never managed more than a minute before the blissful explosion; such was their high excitement and elation! The mother and father were forced to copulate together in public, as they heard their precious daughters being publicly raped. And roughly so, by gross men who kept grinning and grunting as they took their turns.

The mob was scattered. A squadron of cavalry had been called in reinforcement. The mob scattered, but both twin daughters and other girls were kept screaming and whimpering on the wet cobblestones, whose wet coldness they felt in sensual details under their bare feet as the cavalrymen kindly dismounted and seized their opportunity to "give a nice rough dance to the sweet young ladies", whose virginity was now being described by the troops as a heavy load they were happy to help the peachy damsels get rid of.

***

Some twenty minutes later, the Lithuanians and the rest reached the railway station without firing a single shot. Sidorov immediately established a perimeter and no one would be allowed to exit or enter the station until the grand duchesses would be on board the train and on their way to Yekaterinburg.

A self-important businessman wearing a stovepipe hat and a well-trimmed beard, dapper as such a snob ought to be, began to protest. He had an appointment! Boris gave him a better appointment with the flagstones as he punched him square in the face.

"Hey, this man has two lovely daughters!" Stefan said. "Maybe we could let him leave, in exchange for, you know what I mean!"

"Yeah, nice boobs this one got!" said Yuri as he groped the tallest daughter, who was dressed like a fashionable little lady and looked about fifteen.

"aaaaaaaaaa!!! Father! Father!" the maiden cried out, dropping her umbrella and losing her hat and unwillingly showing her rich brown hair as she tried to fight off the squat man off her.

"Leave her alone!" the dapper father said, still holding his bleeding nose and trying to get back up, but Boris gave him a vicious kick right where he knew his liver was. The father sank into a fetal position, silenced by pain.

"Let's get her behind those wagons, quick!" Stefan said while Yuri pressed his hand on the girl's mouth. But the younger sister shrieked at the top of her voice when the child understood her big sister was in danger and these men weren't just playing.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

"What the deuce is going on here?" Sidorov thundered as he came near.

He spotted the girl with Yuri silencing her and Stefan groping her. "You fools! You have one job to do, one! So get going and secure the station! We ain't here to play Valentines! Get going I say, on the double!"

Sidorov then helped the father to get up and apologized. The dapper man comforted his shaken daughter who had flung herself into his arms and while doing so, he introduced himself as Heinrich Stockmann.

"Jewish? Then you better warn your folks and barricade yourself. I think the local garrison are about to do a pogrom."