Chapter 17: A Soiree

The Czech Major-General gives a grandiose banquet in the Mayor's house. He and his men don't get any sleep that night.

Captain Sidorov's Thoughts...

The Mayor's mansion had a large drawing room on the ground floor. All the serving staff was there, complete with a dignified butler who looked a bit like a penguin in his queue-de-pie and could hardly dissimulate his pleasure as he saw Ekaterina and Yelizaveta, both of them naked, being pushed in front of all by the Colonel, myself and other officers, along with their mother Sofia, just as naked as her daughters.

It was clear that the little snubs weren't exactly liked by the staff of maids and footmen. A black cook was summoned and ordered by the General to have the banquet served.

The cook's aides were either Arab-looking or just as coal-black as the fat cook himself; they had been summoned as well and they promised the General he would enjoy a banquet like he never had before. Their eyes kept returning to Ekaterina and Yelizaveta, both of whom were in fetal position where they had been thrown on the rug and tried to hide their violated charms, successfully covering their pubic region and also managing to hide their breasts by balling themselves on the floor, but failing to hide the rest of their anatomy from the myrmidons' prying eyes. The brown- or black-faced cooks and aides drank their bright white skin and their unforgettably exposed legs, feet and buttocks. You didn't need to look at the front of their trousers to see that those coloured men were hard; you could sense it.

This cooking staff looked more like a crew of Arabesque pirates posing as liveried servants from the way they looked at the naked girls, who both bitterly sobbed as they experienced the worst humiliation of their life. This was their chance to ponder over the difference between being gang-raped by white soldiers and being seen naked by their coloured servants; and decide which one was worse.

Yelizaveta let out a long wail of gloomy horror, and her elder sister moved closer and hugged her, and while she did so, she gave that sordid dozen men the lovely leisure of seeing her naked breasts, her full curves and even a glimpse of thar dark triangle of hair she had down there, not to mention the gracefullness of her movements, which seemed to linger in paradise in the middle of her worst day.

The wise General, a decent fellow, let them have their full stares on the girls, taking his time until he nodded at them solemnly, in a silent command that told the sordid crew to retreat and get to work, and yes, they were to all have their own share of the banquet. I would be quite astonished and disappointed if I didn't get to sip some vodka after supper while watching this grotesque cook and his crew have their way with the snobbish daughters.

The turn-coat Mayor had had food prepared for us in advance, knowing we would honour his invitation. We did. Just not in the way he had intended.

The Mayor's inept-looking son was dragged inside the house, his eyes astonished to have survived the horror and seen so many naked girls the same day, including his own sisters. His young wife was just as naked as the other girls as she was pushed and also fell on the dark rug, where her body was mercilessly shown by the bright gathering of lamps in the high chandelier---what a shame it would be if the heavy thing fell on such beauty, but its chain was quite sturdy and properly fastened to the 15-foot high ceiling of royal-white plaster.

The Mayor's daughter-in-law was of that same cream-white complexion as all rich wives who did not know hard labour; she was about twenty-two with the firmness of body of a woman who had yet to go through her first pregnancy. I felt naturally attracted to her feet. The General didn't give me time to debase myself by tasting those feet in front of everyone. He ordered all the maids to attend to the young ladies while the rest of the female entourage was brought inside by gay officers as the soirée was announced. It was quite a lovely gathering of naked female figures who were defenseless against the uniformed lot of us.

"Here, with medium brown hair, the Countess of the Cunt!" our regiment's Major announced in Russian that was sure to sting the wife's ears as she was shoved where she fell and joined the Mayor's wife and his daughter-in-law, pushing their number up to five as she remained lying down, exhausted, with many spots of crusts on her breasts and in her face where she had received quite a number of semen discharges from the Czech Legion. The so-called Countess was about thirty years old, with a solid mass of dark hair that pulled an appreciative whistle out of me.

Even this older wench looked inviting, with dainty feet and a lovely aquiline nose, and a face almost ready to burst with joy even here amid her most sordid debasement. The play of her hips made me curious to know what fucking her felt like; she looked like a Queen of Spades that had fallen from grace, who had learned the hard way that it was really bad to be on the losing side of a war.

No less than thirteen girls and young wives had been ushered inside. I counted each one. More than half were of the most pleasing description and the rest was acceptable. Yekaterinburg was a lovely city. Nastya's merry figure haunted me like a shadow that would come out just as soon as I would find myself alone, so I was far from eager to end this soirée, even though the military lack of sleep was catching up with me. I drank vodka to give myself some zest while the maids took their naked ladies along with them to wash them and dress them up as per the General's orders.

As I sipped my vodka quietly, always remaining at the centre of a group of fellow officers, I remained on the look-out for Nadja, but there was no sign of the Colonel's daughter. This devil! She was no doubt somewhere with her eunuchs enjoying such intimacy as Mahmoud's strong finger could give.

As I waited for supper to be served, while night fell outside the windows and the mansion became a festive place with golden light oozing out of its merry windows, while glasses met each other in toasts to the Empire of Russia, I looked at the lavish drawing room, vast and heavy with dark woodwork. Decorated with all manners of vases and plants and even an impressive Chinese vase filled with high-standing peacock's feathers! Of a profound green-blue with a hundred eyes of Argus, each with a touch of yellow making its indigo centre look like an iris of satin black, an ominous announcement of some terrible fate.

My gaze fell on paintings. Three paintings. Three maidens with dark hair; each one with her own kind of prettiness.

The first one arrested my gaze with a shock, as it could just as well be a portrait of Yelizaveta--The same pale skin, the same long raven hair, slightly curly, except she was wearing a diadem, meaning she was probably the mayor's favourite daughter. This was so very much her! Her eyes were dark and large, and along with her rosy lips and her thin straight nose, her features were loaded with an expression of both innocence and concern about something dreadful that was in store for her. Everything about her was small and delicate, including her bosom that was encased in a renaissance style of a dress, of a deep green satin that had a thin border of quiet gold that formed a square décolleté that naturally led my gaze to her radiantly pale skin.

In her dainty hands was a five-string lyre, an instrument linked to Ancient Greece, a world of learning that I would never truly belong to. She looked incredibly noble and pretty. Seeing her like this filled me with guilt. How could I have harmed such a damsel? The painting's background was lush with trees and flowers, and a trail behind her led to a small bridge over a stream, and further back was a large antique house of stone that offered several gables and a small turret. A small patch of daylight sky offered a hole in the lush foliage. This girl belonged to another world, a world of arts and illusion that perhaps existed in some unknown somewhere beyond our dreams, and yet it was Yelizaveta.

For a fleeting moment, I thought she were about to come to life, this instant, and throw her wooden lyre at my face before pointing her lithe finger at me and say, "You raped me! Twice! Shame on you!" (See image 1)

The second picture displayed a girl looking remarkably like her sister Ekaterina. It could very well be an actual portrait of her when she was, perhaps, a couple of years younger and a true maiden. This painting showed an aspect of simple grace that Ekaterina had when she was her young sister's age. Her pale skin had a rich complexion and was fantastic to look at against the dark background. She was looking down, her eyelids offering a smoothness that hid dreams that were perhaps just as sensual as her delicate shoulders, fully revealed by the sensual top of her dress, a diaphanous pale beige fabric that let see a great deal of her bosom. This diaphanous top offered a pleasing contrast against the copper hue forming the slim body of her dress. The quiet rose of her lips lent on this same copper hue, as if offering the quiet fire that was ever-present in her pale complexion.

She was looking down at a butterfly on her sleeve, a butterfly whose colour matched the diaphanous part of her dress and whose wing tips matched the copper of the rest. Her face pretty and pale in pure contrast against the brown of her hair, with the same delicate eyebrows as her young sister. Everything about her was pale and quietly sensual. In her hair she wore a pale rose that matched the thin fabric covering the small roundness of her breasts; they had to be so radiantly white! With nipples I knew to be of that same rose of lips leaning on copper brown, since I had masturbated over their sensual milkiness and profusely ejaculated on them only an hour before.

This painting made me horny and hungry for the scent and feel of her feet. I was in awe in front of this girl and all shame left me, replaced by lust and curiosity of the vilest description. (See image 2)

Lastly, the third painting showed a peasant girl sitting at the border of a river, with a basket of laundry near her. Her long black hair was covered by a white shawl and her light olive complexion, her air of youth and the quiet beauty in her features reminded me of Sumeyye, especially in view of her diminutive size. Except she was holding a rosary and wearing a Christian cross made of wood. Everything about her was rustic and simple, including the landscape and the quiet light bathing the whole painting. She was the prettiest of all three, and the one I felt I'd be the happiest to have as my wife; such a girl gave her love once to one man. A love that was unconditional and final. And I was married to such a girl! Except she was Muslim, but this was but a trifle. Sumeyye! Why did I put an entire war between us?

Tears welled in my eyes, blurring this third painting that seemed to dance on the dark wall in front of me as I suddenly became aware of where I was. Such a girl who deserved to be loved unconditionally by a faithful husband. I felt like escaping inside the painting, to take her to the stone church I saw in the background, to have the priest marry us and then, to give her my love in observance of the laws of nature and God! War had made a sinner out of me! This prettiest girl was inside the picture, out of my reach. Sumeyye was just as much out of my reach! Life had passed and I was now too old to be that young man who smiles at his good fortune. I had been a fool! Sumeyye! Why did I put an entire war between us? (See image 3)

"Very pretty, this girl, isn't she?" an old man's voice said next to me. "I hope I do not disturb you in pleasant dreams, Captain. I happen to be lovesick myself; you see, young man, my homeland of Bohemia has such landscapes with such maidens in it. I'm a widower and haven't loved in ages, but seeing this pretty maid here makes me a young man again, and yes, the first thing I'll do when I get home, when all this is over, will be to find myself such a wonderful peasant girl and give her seven children! And let people say all they want about me being too old at sixty springs!"

The General was speaking. He offered me a glass of brandy. Fine brandy it was. He told me much about his homeland, so peaceful and happy before the Great War! And I began to tell him about the wife I had left in St. Petersburg. "She looks so very much like this lovely maiden!" said I. "She was only fourteen when we married. It's been sixteen years and I still love her, worship her! I... I don't deserve her!"

"Aah, Captain! Sidorov! You're the luckiest man alive!"

"Thank you, General Sir! Uho, Sir? Did I just have this conversation in Czech?"

"You positively did, young man! Looks like speaking of girls does wonders for learning a language. I shall try the same for Latin and German! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Come now, let's fetch us some more of this brandy. I was just informed that the supper is ready. Let's win this war and find happiness at last in the arms of a loving maiden!"

***

During supper, the girls, now all dressed up, were led by the maids into the large drawing room where the long massive table was all lined with officers in dusty uniforms that suddenly looked out of place in this lavish decor. Khaki's place is in the field; not in a salon. The serving maids had vanished as soon as the daughters and the wives had been sat at the table, each next to an officer, whom the General had ordered and instructed to be kind and show chivalry to his lady for the night. I wondered which one was the most preposterously horrific, between this show of pretense after the fact and the act of openly gang-raping the said ladies in broad daylight, like we had done with such passion and military efficiency earlier.

Through some twist of fate, I was given the company of Ekaterina, the mayor's elder daughter on whose breasts I had ejaculated while grunting like a horny satyr. I rose from my seat as my eyes met hers, but she looked down, her face blushing in shame, as she was seated by the maid, who instantly vanished.

I offered her a glass of claret and complimented her on her dress, which had a copper satin body and a top fringe made of a diaphanous fabric of a pale beige, just like in the painting!

"Milady, I said, I... I don't know what to say, but, I..."

"Then don't say anything and let me eat. I'm famished. You satyrs have gang-raped me for hours on end and I haven't eaten a bite since breakfast! I'm positively starving! Please fetch me this large platter of sausages. I love Polish sausage with garlic! Let me feed my body, so I can cry again later... What's the use of pretending? You're no better than the Red Army!"

She spoke in a low voice, her words filling me with shame and guilt. Something told me she knew what she was doing. I tried to amend myself:

"No, Ekaterina, I shall not harm you in any way. If I take my, I mean if I keep you near me to-night, it will only be with your permission and..."

"Fat chance! Do you seriously think I'm in the mood for frolics right now?! I'm hurting down there, my shoulders and large areas of my back are crimson with sunburns and I'm not exactly at ease around men right now! Rape is not something you get used to."

"I... I'm sorry, Ekaterina. I'm famished myself. I miss my wife, very much..." I blurted out, tears in my eyes as I began to devour the five sausages I just served myself along with a large helping of beets and potatoes. This with a glass of vodka. She clearly refused any vodka, but spoke, her eyes filled with curiosity:

"Your wife... Who is she? Does she know you like to rape girls? I saw how you raped my sister, like a pig!"

"My wife is called Sumeyye. She's Turkish. I'm Captain Sid..."

"Turkish! Does she fuck well?"

"Uh, yes! She's the best I ever had. The load I dumped on your tits was nothing to the loads she gets from me."

"Ooohh..." Ekaterina said as she took one sausage, warm and juicy, and began licking it while looking at me, for a second or two before putting it back in the plate and resuming her meal after taking the proper utensils.

"I saw the painting," I said. "You are very moving, Ekaterina."

"Tough break for me. You're already married, but wait, where do you think I could find, among all these gentlemen, an officer who is a bachelor and who never committed a rape in his life? Hhmmm... Looks like I have quite a vast array of men to chose from; I just have to select the height, size and colour of hair, and his age too! I like them young, you know!"

"The General of our Division is a widower. He owns property in Bohemia and, uh, and he's under sixty years of age!"

"And he never took a girl by force?"

"Perfection do not exist, Milady!"

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Haa aaaaaah aaaaaaaaaaahhh... So horrible what you did to me!..."

The poor child had begun to sob. I took her and held her against me, gently stroking her hair, saying I was sorry, that the war had made a horrible monster out of me, that I wasn't myself anymore, that in peacetime I would love to drink chai with a girl like her under a sunny sky, at a café, perhaps in Paris, why not? As she sobbed on, I also told her to close her eyes and think she was in the happiest of places she could fancy.

"But that's here! My place is here! Used to... used to be a happy place... War ruined it all!" the sobbing girl reflected. It shocked me that she wasn't resisting in the least, but her voice had always something sarcastic in it.

Out of words, I kissed her on the top of the head and hugged her. As I did so, I noticed that half of the girls, including her young sister, were also crying in the arms of their respective "knight servant". The whole scene was just as preposterous as our dusty uniforms in this decor. We were all there around this fantastic table, loaded with food and fruits and wine and beer, while comforting girls we had so savagely raped all day long! Only war could create such nonsensical absurdity.

Some of the gentlemen officers began to take liberties with their girls, who were obviously too exhausted to offer much resistance. Ekaterina's mother was weirdly submissive and the other wives as well; all three wives were with a handsome officer younger than themselves. The General, who was himself with one of Eketerina's cousin, another maiden with black hair, struck his crystal wineglass with a silver butter-knife.

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Behave! This is a banquet and we shall do these things en règle! To-day we shamefully misbehaved and I most sincerely apologize! We are now only in the second course, so this is no time to start thinking about the dessert!"

A tall grandfather clock struck eleven as the Czech-Bohemian Count spoke. I translated for Ekaterina, who looked down at her plate and silently devoured the rest of her meal. Then she had me serving her some more sausages and she ate on, always looking down at her plate of fine porcelain with a fringe of Prussian blue, offering me the smoothness of her eyelids in the very same way as her portrait on the painting. I could have well believed there was a butterfly on her sleeve as she ate on.

Under the table, I rested my hand on her thigh. She tensed, but didn't move. Aren't you ashamed? A voice said inside my head. Nastya! It was Nastya's voice! I sat, transfixed, still hungry and yet unable to eat anything more.

"Well, there's no way around it," Ekaterina said to me, looking into my eyes bluntly, the light brown of her eyes matching the warm gems I had seen in the paining, the live ones a far better version. "No way around it! I shall be the dessert. May I at least choose the position?"

"Uh?! Come again?"

"I feel your hand on my thigh, Captain. I'm sure you must be pretty stiff as I speak. I know that I and each and every girl in this room will be made a Dievka once more after the supper; this is inevitable, so I'm asking you, may I at least choose in which position you will have possession of my person?"

She was leaning close to me, after putting down her silverware, so I naturally circled her waist with my arm. My body loved to have her so close; my soul knew I was ear-marked for hell in the Great Hereafter. It was inevitable; she was right.

"Yes, of course, I, I will be happy to, to make love with you in... in any way you wish, Ekaterina!" I spoke puzzled by her weird behavior. All the other girls and women were finishing their meal in silence with their head cast down; her little sister was in tears while the handsome First Lieutenant tried to gently comfort her, only adding to her distress by stroking her hair. But Ekaterina was taking the bull of fate by its horns.

"Well," she said "I want you to sit me on this table and hug me while you do your business. I... I'm not in the mood for this, but... but I've always wanted to be taken like this. None of the Bolshevik officers gave me any say in the matter, so if you do grant this small wish of mine, then this will be a slight improvement to a very sad state of things."

"Well, uh... I dunno!"

As she spoke, something in her eyes changed, bringing notes of hope amid the ocean of tragedy. "And please, Sir, go gently, ooh do go gently! If you do, you see, I'll wrap my legs around you and I... I'll let you kiss any part of my person that you would like. Oh, please go gently! Have mercy! I'm dishonoured, but please spare me as much suffering as you still can."

"Milady, I shall buck you on this table as softly as a summer breeze." As I spoke, I was painfully oak-hard down there.

***

Sure enough, the girls were indeed the last course of the preposterous supper where the soup was had after the main course. The General was kind enough to offer us all a round of brandy and vodka and wait until the girls had digested enough so their body would be up for their grim task ahead. Something crazy filled the air as the General looked at his own girl with starving eyes while his belly was full; she looked like a dark-haired angel and was shockingly too young for him; and as he kept staring at her, he looked like a lecherous old man posing as a General next to a vestal's baby sister.

My Colonel was with another cousin of Ekaterina's; this one was a blonde... who looked like a child girl, no older than thirteen springs. It was an April-December forced couple. We were all on our way to hell.

As the tall clock struck 2 a.m., the General clapped his hands and said, "Gentlemen! The last course of this soirée!"

As the noises erupted and girls began to cry and wail, I gently took Ekaterina and began to kiss her. She kissed me back, in a rigid way as she pretended to be in the mood. I loved how her lips felt on mine and couldn't help but push my tongue a bit inside her ajar mouth and got to know her own tongue, but I knew she was only doing this to lessen the ordeal on her person. She most certainly hated me! Us!

Feverishly, I dropped the top of her dress down, and then further down, baring her upper arms against her sides as her white breasts popped out like beautiful mounds to suck! Peachy white skin that was as soft as the maiden she used to be. Her nipples and areolas were a bliss to lick, and it truly felt like pulling that girl out of that painting and sucking her breasts! She was acting, negotiating a fool's peace with her body, but her scent and perfume and the smoothness of her baby skin were delicious! I was a lowly lecherous monster. Each of my assaults on her took me farther from that lovely peasant girl whose beauty was as simple and happy as my unreachable wife.

I didn't care what the others did. Already, grunting and whimpering were filling her father's drawing room. The General was already bucking his black-haired maiden from behind against the table; her small white body offered those eternal curves that a man loves to collide with.

The Colonel was bucking his little lady with sunlight in her long hair and the face of a freckled child that just ate something too bitter; she was naked, her back on the table and her legs propped up while the half-century-old brigand fucked her, with the harsh fury of a man clinging to what was left of his youth, holding her wrists and pulling her arms toward him alongside her small body, as her fresh breasts moved freely in rhythm with his urgently repeated strain, and her little feet kept hoovering near his face at the end of thin legs. Seeing this little blonde gave me a raging erection as I kept kissing and undressing Ekaterina.

She even helped me getting her naked! While I kept my dusty uniform. Her hands didn't show the least interest in my own person. It was clear she wanted me to get it over quick. At her invitation, I sat her on the table's edge and then she hugged me, and I cupped her full buttocks with my hands, feeling my raging erection pressed against her as she kissed me on the neck and pretended to like it. I missed Sumeyye and would have given anything to be with her in St. Petersburg and enjoy her just like this, but I was thousands of verstes away.

The fuck while hugging Ekaterina proved wonderful, albeit mechanical and loaded with guilt. The penetration left me breathless when it happened. What struck me the most, beside the rosy scent of her warm brown hair, was how she whimpered and kept saying she was a Dievka and she secretly wanted a Negro, to be like a whore in a harem and fucked by their big cocks! She said all this through a perpetual flurry of hot whimpers against my neck while I kept tapping her buttocks against the stately table and took my pleasure deep and hard inside her, sensually enjoying this rough dance where a girl had squeezed out as much control as she could have on sad the events she was the butt of.

Her slurry words reminded me of Countess Hendrikoff and her harem fantasy. It suddenly struck me that Ekaterina had the very same hair colour as the Countess. I was fucking a girl who looked very much like her at that age! Indeed, Countess Hendrikoff must have been the most strikingly beautiful young lady when she was eighteen! A fuck like very few men had.

I suddenly saw Yelizaveta with the First Lieutenant, a very handsome cavalier for her. She was sobbing while the pure whiteness of her butt kept getting flattened against the young officer, who held her wrists against the small of her back while her dark-haired head kept sliding next to her empty plate as he kept telling her she needed to pay for her father's hypocrisy, this while the father himself had been brought in his own house to see how his daughters were getting fucked for free. Then Ekaterina moved and kissed me with something that had changed in her.

"Ooohhh! HArd and strong! HArd and strong!! Aaa-aaah hhhaaard and st-strong!"

I bounced her harder and began to pound her more urgently as she kept kissing my neck and hugging me as if her life depended on this! She was a good actress and this filled me with sadness as I thought of Nastya. My hands sunken into her bottom, I bounced her against me and on the table as fast and furious as I could, while her words and whimpers turned into a loud litany that played a hot crescendo against my ear while her hair was all over my face and she finally shivered in my arms! and detonated "AAA AAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I love Arabs!!!"

This was too much for my throbbing mast inside her. My scream rang like a volley of rifles as I erupted like a breeding gladiator inside Ekaterina, as she kept kissing and slobbering my neck... "Don't stop! Don't... No I shouldn't! Get- gg-get off me... Oooh oo ooo ooooooohh... I AM YEKATERINBURG! A DIEVKA!!!"

In the confusion of her long hair and her scent, my ropes came strong inside her. Bolts upon bolts, she was filled up as I also thought of her legs wrapped around me and her lovely feet behind me. The girl in the painting! Fucked.

Like a happy dog, I sank down on my knees and began to worship her feet, covering them with adoration as I thought of Sumeyye and the peasant girl in the painting. Oooh those feet! The love I could never reclaim...

***

What was our last course proved the entree of a very sordid feast for the unfortunate lambs. They were the meat of it. The wolves came in the form of a cohort of officers and privates and sergeants who walked in as a pell-mell mass of khaki uniforms; same dust, all ranks present; and they heavily crowded the drawing room, making it tiny with their smells of sweat and urine and semen as all the girls screamed while the large table was pushed by its long side, and it screeched in stately protest until it was directly against the wall, and then, seven, nay, eight daughters and wives were bent over against this massively long table. All of them pristine and naked amid the crowd of satyrs making toasts upon toasts for the glory of Russia.

The girls and wives were utterly groped amid the confusion as the General and our Colonel barked the orders with a stentorian voice, giving a touch of military organisation to the whole affair and preventing it from falling into absolute chaos. I saw Yelizaveta, Ekaterina and their mother Sofia side by side, or rather butt by butt, where they held each other's hands, bent over and ordered to remain so for the general pleasure of a hundred gazes. Ekaterina's buttocks were the fullest since their mother had the same slim figure that her baby daughter inherited.

"Mama's here, it's all right," I heard Sofia say as the first wave of horny soldiers, all ranks mixed up, mounted the assault, stiff and proud, hollering war cries like an army assaulting a castle and breaking the gates with a strong battering ram.

All eight women whined and whimpered as they were rammed urgently. It was the familiar round of forceful strokes that flattened those wide buns in the female body. Those sounds of flesh striking flesh fascinated everyone. It was quickly over and followed by a second wave, then a third wave. The supply of men was endless. Many violated their rectum. I heard Yelizaveta sing in such a high pitch that told me she was indeed getting it deep inside her butt. Her black hair seemed alive and angry in the perpetual hammering she was getting against the long table. Oblivious to her own ordeal, her mother kept her hand in hers and kept calling her "my poor dievutchka".

The girls who couldn't be fit against the table were each raped against some cupboard after the baubles atop it had been tossed off; each girl offered her own personal shape and size, but with those same white buns that said she was a Dievka who used to be privileged and courted by gentlemen. The supernumerary Dievkas had been simply thrown down on the rug where they were now given the full benefit of the Russian Imperial Army. Soldiers upon soldiers upon soldiers; each one with a peasant's cock to punish the fallen city.

They were thus raped for quite a long time. The tall clock kept striking each wee hour and the grey morning light was already showing outside the windows.

The poor girls had more in store for them. The General clearly wanted them to taste the bitter end of a city's fall. The domestics were called. Of course, the maids had fled, and for good reason. But the footmen were there, all of them. The old butler was still wearing his queue-de-pie and couldn't take his eyes off Yelizaveta, or the naked shadow of whatever was left of her. The girl sat on the rug where she had peed herself, her feet showing under her slanting buttocks, the cast-down image of the girl so utterly abused that her long hair just hung down over her face and she no longer cared.

Her father was of course kept there, tied up to a chair where we officers all sat along with him to enjoy the show. The cook and his aides had already stripped themselves naked and the well-clad butler looked scandalized as the General ordered that the black cook and his coloured myrmidons would have the first pick.

"And remember," the General added. "Your father and your mother will be shot if you don't behave, so no biting and you will obey all commands from the negro!"

I sat back along the other officers and we sipped vodka as we watched how Yelizaveta was made to kneel at the feet of this large-bellied cook. The naked negro laughed with a low voice and gave her his first command:

"Take this big brown branch of mine, hold it with both hands! And lick it! Yes, lick it! Worship it! I had dreamed of this for so long... Your lovely rosy lips on my thing! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

The moment is quite unforgettable as this lithe girl, sitting on her heels, her butt still slanting in a beautiful way, her skin so incredibly white against the dark rug and the dark woodwork, takes hold of that branch, her white hands on his long thick mast, her face in shock, eyebrows raised as she sees how gigantic this thing is.

"Now, little Milady, you massage it! And get up on your knees, because you will also kiss it!"

And as Yelizaveta obeys and her little hands put moving pressure on this unique specimen of African manhood, the orgy gets going; the Arabs and negroes look like the naked crew of a Barbaric pirate ship who just captured some Italian or French merchant ship and begin to celebrate by gang-raping the prettier passengers.

The naked girls, Ekaterina among them, scream and briefly and to no avail try to run; but they are caught! The laughing kitchen boys grin as they shamelessly force them to bend over the long table by the wall, near the three paintings I had previously contemplated, and the Arabs and negroes begin to rape the young miladies and the wives from behind. This time, the broken-in maidens wail and shriek, their eyes almost leaping out of their faces as their cheek begins to slide from the barbaric impetus as the kitchen boys begin their animalistic domination, each of their grunts loaded with how long they had dreamed of such a situation to happen.

Many of the girls scream in utter pain as they get anally raped by some Arab or Ethiopian. I sit, transfixed, almost dropping my cup of vodka as I watch how Ekaterina's full buttocks keep getting flattened against a negro whose mouth remains wide open, his eyes gone crazy, as he loves these never-hoped-for collisions. He sinks his fingers into her hips as he explodes like a horny ape!

The cook is kneeling behind Yelizaveta's pure-white nakedness; she's on all fours and taking his well-pressured rams, deep inside her ass. "Aaah yeahh! Milady! Her ass! Her arse! I'm gonna fill it up! AAAH AAAH AAA AAA AAAAA YEAAAH AT LAST AT LAST!!! UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHH!!!"

The Mayor is ashen white as he witnesses the cook's well-pressured ejaculation inside his younger daughter. He's screaming like a madman on his chair, straining in convulsions as he tries to break his bonds! Frothing slobber running down his mouth.

We sip vodka as we listen to the music. The satisfied grunts! The distressed shrieks! For the girls and wives, the shame is impossible to fathom! Yelizaveta is now sucking another king-size cock, taking its owner in her wide-open mouth like a girl trying to fit a huge piece of blood-milk pudding inside her small, delicate mouth. The cook soon joins his aide as he wants more! And here she is, Yelizaveta, kneeling in the grace of her always-pure nakedness, her feet as lovely as ever on that dark rug as she takes both cocks in her docile hands and soon makes the cook hard again while the other negro already capitulates--masturbating like a grunting baboon, he yells as he explodes, and holding his bursting cock, he paints the lovely snob's face with his jungle sludge. With her father watching and screaming as madly as ever.

Then the cook enjoys the little snub on her hands and knees again, bucking her in mighty strokes, but this time using her cunt. His big greasy hands soiling her pale hips again. Somewhere an Arab ululates as he discovers the joy of ejaculating inside Ekaterina.

Under the painting portraying the raven-haired girl in the green dress, the raven-haired girl who ate with the General is now raped by a coal-black kitchen boy, her boyish buttocks looking whiter than white as she looks down, her hair swaying in sorry motions, with those awful hands on her, and the girl feels the unthinkable against his repeated thrusts.

"White girl!" the kitchen boy utters as he fills up the whimpering girl. Other boys come and take their turns.

"White girl! White girl!--nnnnnnnnNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNHH"

"Take this, little snub! UUUUUUUUUUUUUggghhh..."

"Oh yes! Yes! Allahu-akhbar! ALLAHU-AKHBAR!! rrrrrrrrjjnnnnnggghh..."

The mayor is still naked, and where he sits in his sturdy bondage, his cock is high and stiff as he watches.

Yelizaveta is now holding the butler with both hands! The butler is stark naked and smiling down on her, like an old creditor taking what had been his due for a long time. As she sucks him as deep as the thing will go inside her mouth, the loyal butler expresses his approval:

"Aaaaah Yeliza! Aaah good! Good solid fuck! Now... Aaahh can't believe uhh it!"

Her mother is spared the scene; she's too busy getting stuffed by a strongly built Arab who says this is the most beautiful day of his life as he spews his load, and his mistress takes it all.

"Yeahh yeaah yeaahh Milady Milady! Head back! Head back and show me your titties! Show them to your fateful Josef!" the old butler bellows as he takes over from her and begins to masturbate.

And as Yelizaveta, always kneeling in her graceful, flawless nakedness, obeys the command and tilts her head back and away from the masturbating butler, arching her back and showing the full pushed-out display of her small breasts, and the little dievka looks up at him, the entire unreality of the scene is written in her large dark eyes as she knows all too well what will follow. And yet there is still some innocence that lives on inside her eyes.

The mayor grunts as the butler screams his joy out as he gleefully erupts and the spewed load lands plump and hot on Yelizaveta's offered breasts. Such a scene that is never supposed to happen.

"AAA AAAAAAAAAA AAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Milady! Say you love to take my sperm! Say it! Say it aloud!"

"Say it!" the gone-mad butler shouts as the ultimate bolt of his semen draws a spectacular arch of thin offering before it completes the pooling pond that glistens between her tits. The room's golden lights give it life. The grandfather clock strikes five o'clock. Time resumes its unbroken course.

"Daddy! Why didn't you let them shoot you like a dog?" Yelizaveta yelled at her father. Then she collapses on the floor, where the last kitchen boy, an Arab about her own age, got his hands on her. He spoke, saying he had been so much dreaming of this moment, and then he commanded her to take position on her knees and elbows, said he wanted to kiss her buttocks and explore its small vastness with his hands, to see how white her skin truly was.

We sat back and watched the boy offer Yelizaveta her first Allah's cock as the boy enjoyed her. And then the cook came near and knelt down, heavily near her prostrated head of long black hair. He ordered her to prop herself up on her arms, and as she took the Arab punishment from behind, the sore crease of her hips ruined by those sun-brown hands, the negro began to slap his big soggy cock on her face!

As this big flaccid thing hit her cheek, the little snub made such a disgusted expression as if she had just swallowed horse dung! I pictured in my mind what would happen if that girl in the painting found herself in a town sacked by Moors... Stripped out of her green dress, her five-string lyre trod on; and her beautiful ass raped by an Arab while she being slapped in the face by an African cock, soggy after it had already showered her.

Then the footmen joined in! Each man chose the girl he wanted the most. Several footmen formed a line-up waiting for Eketerina or Yelizaveta, although they kept telling her she had been ruined, but they were still in the mood of doing her a favour by offering her their white cocks. It was clear that none of the domestics ever liked the snobbish sisters.

The Arab was followed by the old butler inside Yelizaveta. The old butler, yes, already hard again, surpassed the Arab boy in every way; so fervent was his fantasy about the little dievka. His scream was epic and so was the large quantity of frothing slobber he lost while holding her butt.

The General spoke:

"We thank you very much for your hospitality, my dear mayor. Someone, untie him so he can go and enjoy one of his daughters while we watch. The man is in the hard mood for this!"

The General kindly translated his own words so all persons concerned could understand, this while the tall clock was already striking six.

The mayor rushed at his young daughter, and as the naked butler stood by and watched, the father feverishly began to rape his daughter from behind, her buttocks protruding as she took this violation of nature on her knees and elbows, her face sliding on the dark rug, her face was hidden by her long dark hair, as she kept feebly whimpering, perhaps not even aware she was being had by her own father.

A soldier rushed in the drawing room. He stood at attention and saluted the General.

"General Sir, the Commander-in-chief wants to see you right away, respectfully Sir. Court-martial duty, Sir! Two Generals are already there and he also wants you to sit on this court martial!"

Then one beast of a scream shook the entire mansion. The mad mayor was done inside Yelizaveta.

"Forgive me, my darling... The... the fortunes of war..." he said, panting, his hand resting on his daughter's nakedness as she collapsed in frantic sobs.

"Father! Why didn't you let them shoot you like a dog? Why?"

The General rose and spoke: "Mayor, I thank you for your wonderful hospitality! Your daughters are charming, but now, duty calls me. Colonel, I just had word that a group of hobos and beggars are just outside the door, waiting to be let in. Please, Colonel, let the dregs of the city inside the house, so they can enjoy the mayor's daughters and the rest of his entourage. I trust that you will enjoy this, Mayor! So sorry I couldn't stay for this fifth act of the play!"