Chapter 15: White Wind

Ivan Sidorov's thoughts...

July 22nd 1918

After coming so very close to death, I had learned to enjoy the simplest things in life, such as white angelica flowers caressed by a gentle breeze under tall pines with an impressive expanse of white clouds enforcing the laws of God. The winds of war had turned in our favour and we were nearing the outskirts of Yekaterinburg, coming from the East like a scourge of vengeance.

No quarters were given, barring few exceptions. The men were slaughtered and we all know what became of the women. Wherever we passed, there was no shortage of prostitutes in our wake.

After my initial capture by the Czech Colonel, and after my weird enslavement at the hands of his daughter, we had made a swift quick march, albeit a long exhausting march back to the south and then to the east of Yekaterinburg. The Colonel and his regiment had briefly held this region west of the city in order to strike terror and show the Bolsheviks we had control over the Trans-Siberian Railway. It was a daring mission when his 300 volunteers had spear-headed the push, helped by rural villages whose inhabitants were Czarists after suffering so much at the hands of the Red Army. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact they had lost precious hours of head-start by raping all the Bolshevik women on the spot after capturing the train, although I could hardly blame them.

We had left nearly all the survivors of the train where the enemy would find them a few hours later. It was a brutal march where I saw Sonja forced to walk on or be shot, her torn uniform making her look like a cheap trollop trying to look like a military officer, with her lone red square now looking ridiculous on the twisted collar of her torn khaki shirt. Her blonde hair soon turned greasy and stuck flat under her peak-cap that her Czech captors had left there because they found her more comical this way; also to protect her from the sun, although most of the marching was done deep in forest trails. How daring the Colonel had been to go so deep into enemy territory with only 300 men and 30-odd cavalry! He avoided capture only because the Reds didn't expect such a crazy push.

When Sonja and other women fell out of sheer exhaustion, about an hour into the march, the Czechs kindly wrapped ropes around their wrists and ankles, then they took sturdy branches and carried them, two men apiece, the branch loaded on their shoulder like primitive hunters would do to pieces of fresh meat.

All in all, the Czech Legion were fair to the dozen girls they had kept as prisoners, giving them food and water. We would camp without any campfire to avoid giving away our position to our pursuers. The cavalry was busy leading them astray, using branches that they would drag behind their horses in order to raise a cloud of dust, indicating a false position thanks to the weather being sunny and dry. They would then ride as fast as the wind to avoid capture. This was why I didn't see much of Lieutenant Annika and her brave cavalry-women.

Much to my astonishment, the Colonel of the 7th had returned my Nagant to me and confirmed my promotion to the rank of Captain of the Imperial Army of Russia. Promotions up to this rank were given inside the regiment. Any higher rank had to be bestowed by the commander in chief. I now wore four silver stars on two wide bronze stripes that ran the entire length of my shoulder pads; it felt so much more natural than those shy red squares! The dark khaki of my tunic and trousers betrayed where I came from. In exchange for shooting lessons, the Colonel gave me fencing lessons so I would now use my sabre in more efficient ways than just hacking and chopping like a peasant.

The Colonel also began teaching me his mother language and would quote me words from Božena Němcová or Jan Neruda, translating their words to me in Russian so I could pick up more of the language. There was a quote from Němcová that made me poignantly think of Sonja, such a fine and loving girl, in the hands of Czech peasants: "Casting pearls to swine."

It even more aptly reminded me of the Grand Duchesses, the Countess and Tamara used as prostitutes by us brigands when I was fighting for the wrong side.

This new life of rushing freedom in the forest, however, came with a drawback called Nadja. The witch would always have her four Turkish gorillas fetch me, or even seize me, and then disarm me before taking me to her tent, where she'd force sex on me with her gorillas watching. The Colonel knew, but never said or did anything. It was the rent I had to pay for the borrowed time I was living on.

Nadja never removed her clothes during sex and seemed to know only position—riding me and tantalizing me with the shapes of her breasts as shown by her perky corset under her dress. I hated this! I hated her more each night! Once, I had tried to raise her dress so I could get a glance at her sex, which had to be adorned with a lovely triangle of dark hair since she had a lush long mane of brown hair after she undid it for intimacy, but Mahmoud grabbed me and gave me a severe beating.

Mahmoud even taunted me as he beat me up, telling me I was nothing without my sidearm. Calling me weak and effeminate as he cut off my breathing with well-aimed punches while the two other Turkish restrained my arms and laughed at me. And after that I had to perform for Nadja, who climbed back on top of me as soon as her bodyguards were done with beating me up. He and his cronies then threw me out of the tent, and the witch had kept my Nagant only to have it returned to me the following morning. She was cautious and seemed to love danger.

Every night, this circus would end with me picturing the jiggling of her freed breasts using my imagination to erase her dress and her corset, while I'd hold her waist and drink her feminine waist through my hands. Only then it was good. But it never lasted. I would open my mouth wide and yell her name, "Nadjaaa!" while I erupted, as per her instructions, but she wouldn't give me time to bask. She'd chase me right away, without any kiss, and I knew she'd then have Mahmoud and her three other eunuchs who would strip her naked and use their hands and mouths, and their strong fingers, to help her reach a woman's heaven. I missed Annika.

Once, I foolishly defied her instructions by screaming, "Nastyaaa!" in the supreme moment. Of course Mahmoud and his prizefighter fists rose to the occasion and compounded the bruising in my ribs. He taunted me about being nothing without my revolver; he was a dead man living on borrowed time. But, oh Lord did I miss Nastya, even though I had no right to after the cruel way I had treated her at the train station in Tyumen. I had forced myself on her while her own sisters were being raped by many men, and she knew it. Nastya was one of the most intelligent girls I had ever met, and beautiful in her very own special way. I was selfishly missing her.

I missed Sumeyye even more. And I felt ashamed whenever I thought of Nastya. The late Rodionov, may he rot in hell, had no doubt abused her during the boat trip, and I had done nothing! Would she ever forgive me if we somehow met again? I sincerely hoped Nastya would go to exile in England and become an actress. She had her whole life ahead of her!

Once we were back in position east of Yekaterinburg, I found ways to join the Czech skirmish units that were always the first to meet the enemy. Where Nadja's father didn't ever let her venture. Taking her on the train and capturing it so deep in enemy territory was actually quite risky, especially given the time they had lost by raping all the womenfolk instead of retreating right away.

I suspected that the Colonel could be secretly fantasizing about seeing Nadja in Bolshevik hands. I sure did! Bolshevik troops were the best at removing a corset fast. And I had grown obsessed with Nadja's tantalizing breasts. Oh! Let come the day where Bolsheviks would finally uncover the treasures of her body!

***

There I was again, crawling across a meadow along with the men of a skirmishing rifle company. I was only a supernumerary officer. The company was led by a First Lieutenant by the name of Petr Svoboda, who could have been my son. He was perhaps twenty-one or -two, still looking like a boy with rosy cheeks and not much to shave off his chin, but he was a seasoned soldier and a fine officer. The Captain had been shot by a sniper so he had taken over.

After several weeks in the Czech Legion, I was learning the language astoundingly fast, including their alphabet based on Latin letters. I could already read a Czech Bible and understand half of it. I knew all the basic commands and learned new words and expressions every day. Nadja always spoke to me as if I were a tame animal. The skirmishers respected my skills with a gun. Mahmoud never dared come near me when I was among the men from the light company, with my Nagant holstered low on my thigh.

We were stealthily approaching an enemy outpost from the north while they were expecting us from the east. Me and the young company leader, we had scanned carefully the nearby woods and other areas for snipers using binoculars and found none. But there was always a risk. We had two snipers of our own to cover us. I had leisure to contemplate these white angelica flowers being caressed by the wind, as we very slowly crawling, like khaki snails, against a background that happened to match our uniforms, under the morning sun, so they had sunlight in their eyes, and we hid in this blazing light, crawling toward a farm house. It was occupied by fifteen to twenty Bolsheviks who held a strong defensive position with walls of sandbags and two machine-guns, both pointing east.

Artillery shells fell. They scared birds somewhere 300 yards to our left. They were way off. They were expecting us to just charge en masse from the east. Did they think we were stupid? A large boar ran near us, with its tusks ominous in the sunlight, grunting in a way that sounded like anger, with cubs trailing her, their mother, as they ran to quieter woods. I listened for any motor noise in the sky, but I had never seen any plane in the Siberian sky, ever. This was not Hungary, although there could be women with those men we were about to attack.

One half of the company led by the Second Lieutenant was getting ready to leave their cover and charge to make a diversion. The real attack would be us from the north. The enemy leader was probably expecting us to attack by night, so the Lieutenant had decided to attack during the day in a bold move.

Two shots were fired, almost silent. Our snipers. The signal!

We heard someone blow a whistle from afar. The Second Lieutenant's signal. Attack! He ran along with his eighty men toward the fortified farm. No machine gun was heard; the snipers had done their job. We charged as well and were able to run more than half the remaining distance when a squad of Bolsheviks began firing at us, but by now we were within range and began throwing grenades. Other Czechs fired. One enemy machine-gun began firing, but it fell silent very shortly after. Some defenders threw grenades as well, but it was easy for us to step away and let the things explode without doing much harm. A few of us fell to enemy bullets, but the Red soldiers began to flee.

As I reached the sandbags, I pulled out my Nagant and shot an enemy in the same smooth gesture. I shot him a second time to convince him to go to sleep as he was feebly rising his rifle toward me. As he fell, the farm was overrun by a hundred fifty Czechs.

Five, six no seven survivors were gathered. The officer was dead and lay flat on his belly with his face eating dust. The highest-ranking prisoner wore a Senior Sergeant's uniform. The second to the dead leader. The others were all Privates.

"All right, kill the prisoners!" Lieutenant Svoboda ordered while cleaning some dust off his uniform. A dog of medium size, brownish yellow in color, was tied to a post near the farm-house and kept barking. Two of the men threw some of their food at it in order to befriend the poor beast, who was now in the right side of the war. The yellow dog stopped barking and began eating, waggling its tail.

One by one, the prisoners were made to kneel down and were shot through the head. The fifth one was of a diminutive size and I noticed how small his hands were. There was also something smooth and delicate in his face under his soft visored cap. As he knelt in silence to live his last moment, I observed the peculiar curves in his hips and buttocks.

"Spare this one!" I barked, pointing at the smaller soldier. "Spare her! We need to question her!" I surprised myself with my ability to say this in Czech, heavily accented of course.

The soldier screamed in a high female tone and she tried to run, but she was soon caught by men who formed a close circle around her and began to laugh as they groped her everywhere at once though her field uniform, while the Senior Sergeant was shot dead before the last soldier shared his fate.

The captive started to cry like a punished little girl as the smiling Czechs took off her cap and uncovered a fiery red display of bobbed hair. She was soon on the ground with her wrists held tightly on either side of her loud-protesting little head, with her uniform wide-open and her undershirt tore and open to the naked display of tender breasts that looked weirdly full for her slim torso, like small mounds that somehow looked like knolls. Her nipples were pale under the sun. She was swiftly freed from her belt while her trousers and her boots and socks were also thrown away as she did her utmost to scare the men away by the shrillness of her shrieks, which of course she did to no avail and was rewarded for her efforts by the display of enemy cocks amid laughter as men loosened their trousers for some fun time.

The red-headed Bolshevik slut got what she deserved. She shrieked even louder when the first of thirty Czechs began to rape and pound her into the ground that was now under White power.

The rest of the company secured the perimeter and a platoon went through the house, looking for hiding enemy. I was in the kitchen with five men, rummaging everything when screams were heard from the cellar.

Two women had been found down there. One young and pretty. The other not so much. Terror was in their eyes, understandably so. I acted as interpret, with great difficulty, as they explained they were the wife and the elder daughter of the farmer, whom the Bolsheviks had shot along with his three sons for "conspiracy". She had hid her daughter and sacrificed herself under the Red soldiers. She said we were welcome to use her, but begged us to spare her daughter Natasha.

It was already too late. We all knew Natasha had been used ad nauseam as a fuck belle by those Bolsheviks. The men who had stormed this cellar had just captured the outpost and were still in their post-battle rush. Natasha looked pleasingly young. Much freshness was in her features; lovely with long golden hair, so long it reached her buttocks. Which I groped as we seized her and forced her to lie down on the cellar's floor.

She remained silent, staring at me with something like hatred mixed with submission in her eyes, while I loosened my belt and unbuttoned my trousers and her mother filled the cellar with shouts and yells as she called the vengeful angels and the evil eye on our heads.

"Not cover chest of her!" I ordered in my tentative Czech, which had the men laughing as they pulled her loose shirt up to her throat and revealed the full display of her gorgeously young breasts. I was post-battle stiff down there.

I had the men tuck her long skirt up and the baring of her legs and thighs was a rush of delight that gave the final zest to my already hard erection. I lost no time and settled myself on top of her. The penetration came, strong and enthralling. Natasha began to sob as I started to pound her with the urgent force of a man who had just fought a battle and wanted to fuck and nothing else.

The empire of her cream-white tits were fun to watch in their rhythmic dance and worth the trouble of propping myself up on my arms as I kept giving her my best baboon's grunts and thrusts; those were firm knolls where the areolas were just as pale as the rest. She was whimpering amid her sobs and under the curses of her mother, raging between two Czechs, as I exploded deep inside Natasha and was left sweaty and breathless after dumping my load.

The other men followed suit, except two who smoked while looking on. The mother was now bent over and crudely raped by soldiers who couldn't take their eyes off the scene where Natasha was being defiled on the floor. Bottles of wine and spirits were uncorked and liquor was poured on her ever-moving tits as men took their turns and sometimes kissed and sucked her tits, offered in the open display of her torn-open shirt, full with the taste of liquor.

My vile self was now among the ones holding the poor girl pinned on the cellar floor where she had to endure the ordeal while her mother was whimpering and cursing, always kept between young men too impatient to wait for their turn inside the youngster, whose pale nipples kept looking at her captors in their endless dance atop her dancing firmness. Natasha took all the punishment in submissive silence, her eyes glowing with the faint light of a young woman who knew there was nothing to do. Fate was inevitable.

I further intoxicated myself by licking liquor off her young breasts, abusing the privileges of my rank to do so, while the man raping her was now kneeling and lifting her bottom off the floor and went at it hard as he held her waist in a way that must have been quite painful to her. The knowledge she was about Nastya's age made me hard again.

"Let's we do her behind from!" I said in my atrocious Czech. How awful I was! I thought of the female soldier who was sharing the same fate outside and my vilified soul decided I preferred a blonde to a red-head. So I helped the men in moving the daughter around and took the opportunity to lick and kiss her ass and feel how firm it truly was. Her curves were mine! I didn't even remember her name. It didn't matter. I was intoxicated by the rush of battle madness and it demanded that I fucked at the first opportunity.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..." was all I could say when I penetrated her. She took me while sobbing, with soldiers holding her down on her knees and elbows, while I pounded her all I wanted, holding the proverbial sweet spot at her hips and contemplating those firm and pleasingly vast buttocks as I fucked without restraint! I thought of Nastya and remembered the lovely vastness of her butt and was shocked to find that this peasant girl was just as white and just as physically pleasing to fuck as Nastya or any of her sisters. I suddenly thought of Tamara, her raven hair and her feet. Tamara was very special to me. Because she resembled Sumeyye, my wife, who was at present just as much out of my reach as if I was dead. Sumeyye probably thought I was and I realized what a blow it must be for her, to lose the one man she ever loved. I was already lost to myself.

Then I lost the ability to think and sank my fingers further into her captive flesh as I became a beast and soon reached and passed my jackpot and I shivered, my kneeling legs turning to water under me as my body forced me to arch my back and look up at the ceiling as I yelled, "For the Empire of RussiaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

I watched the spilling of my semen as I pulled out of her. I loved how I was reminded that a girl needed not be a Grand Duchess to be a good fuck. A peasant girl's ass did it just as well.

The next few men who then bucked her from behind paid me the compliment of also yelling "For the Empire!" but this time in bad Russian with a heavy Czech accent.

***

Three days later, we took Yekaterinburg and my heart was racing when I formally marched into the city along with the rest of my Czech regiment. I was mad with the hope of seeing Nastya again. I also realized that the Bolsheviks had no doubt taken them along with them as they evacuated the city.

More regiments of the Czech Legion marched in along with units of Anti-Bolshevik volunteers. The righteous cause was winning. Prisoners from the Red Army were walking into the central jail pending their execution.

The Mayor of Yekaterinburg was there to greet us officers and our Colonel on this sunny day, as the Division General was gone off to inspect the Ipatiev House along with his deputy commander, so the Colonel was the highest-ranking officer available. The mayor greeted us in the wide plaza with a big smile, with his wife, his inept-looking son and two lovely daughters, and more relatives, also including girls who could well be his nieces. The hypocrite! On the very morning I took the train, I had seen a Soviet flag in proud display above the entrance of his opulent mansion in the old city, not far from the palisaded House of Special Purpose, whose rooms and cellar were currently being inspected by the General in command of our Division along with members of his staff. Admiral Alexander Kolchak in person, the commander in chief of White forces in Siberia, was on his way.

Nadja stood by, not far from me among the officers, with her eunuchs far enough from my holstered Nagant. The witch! She was wearing the same saffron dress she wore when I first met her on the train. I could feel her gaze on me. She was waiting for the first opportunity to have me seized and take me to some empty house and use me as her obedient slave, thanks to her strong eunuchs. I felt like having a good fuck with some local girl, but Nadja clearly had other plans. However, Mahmoud was growing seriously concerned about my sidearm. And he better be! I was reaching a point of revolt and he knew it.

Our Colonel shook hands with the Mayor, who smiled back and seemed proud to have such a rich man's belly under his sobre dark suit and his old-fashioned stovepipe hat he was profusely sweating under. The girl who stood at his left was less than ten feet away from me, wearing a white dress with a modest décolleté she had thrown a blue muslin shawl over, to hide her white skin from the Czechs. She offered us a sunlit world of long dark hair, slightly curly with matching white ribbons holding them high and proud, freeing her neck to show she was no wench, but a lady. We locked eyes. She looked bored; I thought she was going to smile at me, but she pulled her tongue at me! It lasted a flash of an instant, but I had seen it. The little devil! She was petite with stubborn disdain in her eyes.

I looked at her sister who stood at the right of her bourgeois father. This girl had warm brown hair, also arranged tight and high, and looked just as pretty in a deep green dress with a shawl displaying a profound chamois colour, her face and hair as bright as day under the sun and her bosom even more erotic than her younger sister's under a dignified corset that hid and felt safe enough under her pricey dress. The mayor's wife was also pretty in her way, looking very much like her elder daughter, who briefly looked at me and looked away after casting me a gaze full of contempt. Both daughters seemed to know I was of a low birth and shouldn't be wearing the shoulder pads of a Captain in the Imperial Army. The mother and her daughters each had the same pretty face with refinement in their features and a bored expression, their skin white and proclaiming they had never done a honest day of work in their comfortable life.

While our musicians were playing along with the municipal orchestra, and while my Colonel was speaking with the well-off Mayor, I came near the Colonel and whispered something to his ear:

"This Mayor is a hypocrite; he had a large Soviet flag right in front of his house; I've seen it!"

Upon hearing this, the Colonel whispered something to the ear of the forty-something Major who was the regiment's second-in-command. Then he kept conversing with the mayor in the friendliest way while the musicians and the orchestra played on; every one of them and every one of us sweating under their uniform. I looked again at the younger daughter, who looked back at me with nothing but contempt. I could tell she was on the verge of losing her nerves and hating to be standing there and having no choice but stay and have the likes of me looking at her.

My military eye saw that a company of Czechs were quietly moving around and in the process of encircling the mayor and his entourage. I saw the young Lieutenant of the light company enter the mayor's house, not far off, along with thirty men. They were going to thoroughly search the mansion. I hoped, but couldn't believe, that the mayor would be stupid enough to have kept the Soviet flag hidden somewhere in his house. Now of course, its facade was displaying a large flag of Imperial Russia: three horizontal colours of white, blue and red.

Nadja spoke: "No, I'm not leaving!" I turned and looked, just in time to see a Captain insisting that it was her father's orders, that she had to leave at once. The Colonel turned and gave her a command:

"Nadja, we need an extra hand to attend to our wounded. You must go with Captain Ludvig."

With a smile, I saw her leave along with her escort of eunuchs, and a further escort of soldiers lead by this Captain, her face red with rage! The saffron of her dress blazing under the sun. This was a beautiful day!

The Colonel didn't seem to want his conversation with the welcoming mayor to end. The smiling mayor, always sweating under his high stovepipe, invited the Colonel and his officers to a ball that night. He introduced his wife Sofia, who offered us a curtsy that said a lot of a probably noble upbringing. Then he introduced Ekaterina his elder daughter, "in the lovely spring of her years", he said with an air of gravity. Lastly he introduced his youngster, Yelizaveta, and the dark-haired girl, holding her blue shawl pressed in one hand to better hide her upper chest, made a stiff curtsy while clearly avoiding my insistent gaze. I began to grow stiff as I perceived the way she moved and the small grace of her whole being. I could tell from her hands that she had very lovely feet. Dainty, all of her!

The vain Mayor began to talk, through barely hidden words, about the merits of his daughters as good options for any bachelor among his gentlemen officers. Taken by a sudden impulse, I walked and got closer, introduced myself as "Captain Ivan Sidorov from St. Petersburg" and said that the younger daughter greatly interested me. I looked like a widowed middle-aged man, albeit tall and elegant in my uniform, my hand resting on my sabre, but my Nagant holstered too low to be fashionable. The Mayor smiled and asked me if I was well-off, for he could only give his Yelizaveta to a rich man of distinction. The youngster offered her own appreciation of me as a suitor:

"Not you! I intend to marry a gentleman!" she hissed in a low voice. I silently prayed for God to grant me revenge.

Then there was a commotion!

The Lieutenant had come out of the mayor's mansion brandishing a large red Soviet flag!

He was followed by thirty Czechs who joined the company and completed the encirclement.

The crowd of civilians quickly dispersed as they understood that the mayor was in very serious trouble and no one stayed to defend him.

The mayor suddenly grew very pale as he realized that something had shifted in the air. He was encircled by soldiers who looked at him with stern faces! He and his family! The orchestra played on, with something ominous in the notes that perfumed the air.

The Czechs pointed their rifles at the entourage, about thirty or thirty-five men and women including children. An officer speaking accented Russian told the men to surrender any weapons they might have.

"Search the men! Let the children leave!" the Lieutenant my friend bellowed in Czech, leaving the Yekaterinburgers puzzled.

Some men had a handgun and immediately complied and surrendered their weapon. Someone fired and a Czech Sergeant cursed as he held his thigh while the young man who had fired the shot was shot himself in the gut with a rifle, and, as an old woman also fell behind him, hit by the same bullet, and as his young wife shrieked, two Czechs grabbed him and restrained his arms while a third man bayoneted him through the gut. The shrieking wife was grabbed and groped by four other Czechs while others began beating up and murdering the men and boys, and the women screamed as they were seized as well.

Rushing forward, I grabbed and kissed the mayor's younger daughter, stooping down and holding her fiercely as she tried to beat my back with her little gloved fists, uttering muffled protests while all hell broke loose around us. I heard the mayor yelling and cursing, then he was hit by something and fell silent. Girls screamed nearby. I kept enjoying this girl's adorable features against my face as I kept my lips pressed against hers. Yelizaveta smelled like an angel with raven hair. Her hair was already coming loose. Resembling the hair of a prostitue with every new second that passed and changed her world.

"Little Red tramp! We'll teach you!" someone said.

"Mrs. Mayor's wife, I am terribly afraid we will have to rape your daughters to make an example," the Colonel said nearby, in flawless Russian. "I'm sorry for this little inconvenience. Now disrobe!"

"You have no right to do this! I... I'm the Mayor's wife!"

"Disrobe! I said disrobe! Now!"

While the wife pleaded, I stopped kissing Yelizaveta and grabbed this little snob of a young daughter by the wrists and shook her as hard as I could. The white ribbons in her long raven hair nearly all fell off in this storm of spring-flower scent as she wailed while her head was bobbing back and forth as if nodding affirmatively that she deserved to be punished; her white-gloved hands formed beautiful little fists where I shook her by the wrists. Her blue muslin shawl was much disturbed, now showing more and more of her upper chest, revealing the start of her little cleavage where her white dress began.

"Pleeeze nnaaaahh naaa lemme go I'm sorry I'm virgin naaa naaa naaaa aaa nnaaaaaaaaahhhh..."

"Is this all you can say, little snub? Let's see how high you can sing! Show us your titties!" I bellowed while I kept shaking her as if doing so would tell me about Nastya's whereabouts.

"AAAAAA NAAAAAAH I DON'T WANNA BE RAPED! PLEEEEZE PLEEEEZE I'M A VIRGIN A VIRGIN AAAAA AAAA NNAAAAAAAAaaaaaa please don't..."

"Yeeaaahh! Little tramp!" I yelled as I stopped shaking her, only to slap her hard and catch her as she fell. Then I further kissed her before she knew where she was. Two Czech soldiers grabbed her arms, ans as they restrained her and jeered, I grabbed her décolleté and ripped her dress-top! Her wailing cries hit my ears along with the tearing sound as her corset and her distorted face were hit by bright sunlight! My shadow was upon her! Her thin eyebrows were like high arches above her sunlit eyes of brown as she now looked at me with a begging expression.

"Please, don't!" her eyes now said. Her half-exposed corset offered a delicate beige, displaying breast curves that reminded me a bit of Tamara's. Yes, this girl, I had already forgotten her name, was just shy of five feet tall and had the same long dark hair and dark eyes as Tamara. And I was going to fuck her long, good and hard!

"Nooo! Not my little Liza!" cried her mother. "Yelizaveta nooo!"

"Disrobe! Take off your corset!" the Colonel thundered. The mother was suddenly surrounded by soldiers who kindly did it for her as she wailed and kept calling Liza's name.

"Aaa naaaaaaa naaa naaa Mama... naaaaaaaaaa Mama! Mama!!! aaaa aaaa aaaaaaaaaa... " Liza wailed.

Ignoring Liza's wails, I made her scream in pain as I pressed her sides violently and the busks of her corset leapt out of their loops. As soon as the corset was opened, the men restraining her lithe arms helped me discarding it!

Then I yelled a war cry as I tore the thin gown that made up the last layer of her petticoat, and they filled the scene! Her titties! Sunny and white! A beautiful rush of sunny breasts with strong brown nipples, large tabs amid brown areolas as she shrieked the loss of her innocence while the Czechs holding her arms jeered and called her a "suka" in Russian so she understood what she was now to us; a whore. Her little tight fists were a white-gloved song to look at and promised a lovely pair of feet under her little shoes. Both men restraining her couldn't resist the apeal of her small breasts and cupped them as she desperaitely whrithed in our grasp.

She tried to kick me in panicked attempts and only made us laugh while I pressed my face against the soft skin of her bare breasts and I thought of how disdainful she had looked at me, just as I cupped her shrieking breasts and took my first licking taste of her nipple! I took a good, long sucking taste of these young breasts while the loud orgy took a confused shape around us.

"Naa naaa naaaaaa naaaaaaaaaa..."

"Shut up!" said a Czech. "Let's feel... ass..."

When I emerged from the deflowering of her tits, I looked at my left and saw the Mayor being forced back on his feet, while his wife was now naked and groped by a pack of horny Czechs while her elder daughter, Ekaterina, had been stripped naked and now had the balding head of the Major between her immaculate legs while she had a soldier sucking her breasts while two others restrained her arms, jeering at her and asking her whether she liked this as she sang high from what the Major's mouth was doing down there.

"Forced cunnilingus!" I yelled as I brought Liza's dress further down, then lower and lower as she seemed to dance, as if all this had been planned, organized as some summer carnival where she writhed in our hands, her graceful little legs glued together in her wiggling motions, as if she wanted to display the small area of pitch-black hair adorning her pubic triangle. She wailed and wailed on as I caressed her hips and left her dress down where it restrained her ankles near where her blue shawl had fallen.

The shawl was trod on by boots as more Czechs had moved near the girl and waited their turn, already masturbating.

The moment is priceless and nothing else matters as my first kiss lands on this virgin patch of hair!

"NHHAAA NNNAAAAAAA LEMME GO LEMME GO I'M TOO GOOD FOR YAAA!"

She screams even higher and shriller when my tongue invades her entrance as I press my face against the soft silky hair of her cunt while grabbing the small robustness of her ass! My finger sinks into those yielding buns, feeling the firmness underneath! And I taste her pussy, a touch of urine and something sweet in a flat way, with notes of anchovies always present as I feel her panicking contractions as she vainly tries to wrestle herself out of our grip. This is so much fun!

Her screams are shifting: "AAANAA AAAANAAAA AAAANAAAA AAA NNAAAAA AAAHAAA STOP PLEASE I'M AAAA TOO GOOD! TOO GOOD! AAA AAAAAA NAA AAANAA AAANAAAA AAAHNNAAAAAAAA..."

"Oh! Tits! Beautiful! Beautiful!" says one of the soldiers above me, clearly cupping and playing with her tits while I give the royal treatment to her pussy. She's soaking wet. A profusion of bitter-sweet juice against my tongue as I keep insisting on her high-singing spot as soldiers begin to laugh at her. If only I could see her face and how her mouth must be open now! She must be very pretty, getting her pussy worshiped while her breasts were being worshiped as well!

Her ass feels full and pleasing to hold as I intensify the barrage of love inside her. She begins to shiver, singing high, whimpering amid waning protests. She then starts to cry like a little girl and then goes into a full-blown storm of shivering! She yelps very loudly, as if bitten by a snake inside her, as I hold her ass and her inner thighs tighten against me and I feel a flood of juices against my lower face.

Everyone laughs at her climax. That's when I emerge and smile at the little snub. I undo my trousers and show her my macaque's erection. She wants to run away, her eyes locked into a death gaze at my cock, but no less than four Czechs restrain her, making sure her virginity dies to-day.

Moments later, I'm inside her, my erection throbbing where I'm destroying her virginity while soldiers hold her four limbs; her body forms a wailing horizontal X and I hold her lithe waist and let her have it! Amid jeers! Amid my grunts!

Her wide-open mouth and her high-pitched whimpers are a beauty! She makes me even hornier. "Good girl! Good fuck!"

Her sister shakes her head and casts a pleading look at the nearest soldier, who's holding her wrists together where she makes almost a prayer gesture with her balled fists on top of her weeping, shaking face, her dark eyebrows raised in horror as the Major pounds her hard and good, smiling down on the beauty of her jiggling tits as privates and junior officers hold her four limbs without any of her touching the ground, very much like we're doing little Liza. The mayor is nearby and made to watch while his wife is on the ground, naked and pounded amid another group of jeering madmen wearing the uniform of the Czech Legion.

My climax can only be conjectured.

As I pushed on and entered the realm of wobbly legs, I thought of the fully dressed little lady that scorned me while looking at her present state, a naked bourgeois daughter who had lost her white dress and was now getting induced into her new life of public whore. Gang-raped in broad daylight with her small breasts forming a lovely little world of soft-moving mounds as she yelled a moaning cry and I felt her throbbing climax against me just as I exploded in powerful ropes inside her!

"Aaaahh! So satisfying! Liza, you're my favorite whore!" I told Yelizaveta, as I pulled out of her, looking at the tears rolling down her face, enjoying my vile sense of revenge as I left her to be had by the troops.

"aaaww aaaaw aaaaaaaaaaaarrhh thank you, Mister Mayor!" the Major yelled as he fertilized the elder daughter, whose long brown hair made a graceful tumult of sweaty strands under the sun, where a few lost threads intensified the sunny paleness of her perky breasts as the balding officer finished relieving himself. He was immediately replaced by a Captain, who shouted, "Ekaterina! Here I am! All seven inches just for you girRHL! AAAUUhh!!!" He had penetrated her and taken hold of her thighs, and he gave her inner thighs a nice brush with the paler khaki of his Imperial uniform. A very fine fuck for the turn-coat girl.

At some distance, a young man was getting shot through the head while his young wife was being shaken, with panic in her eyes and her lips moving, as if she was trying to tell the stern soldiers that this wasn't supposed to happen. She was already topless and made fun of as her hand let go of a white bouquet of angelica flowers that got blown into a strong gust of wind while her white breasts became magnets for Czech hands.

The wind had turned.