Chapter 14: Danse Macabre

This one is actually the dark chapter with acts of necrophilia. No pretense at minute historical accuracy as this is not really my cup of chai.

Yakov Yurovsky's thoughts...

One man was still grunting in the cellar room that had gone silent.

"Kovalov! What are you doing? She's dead! Stop and help us load the bodies!" I said. I couldn't believe my eyes! He was raping Anastasia's lifeless body after he had spread-eagled her on the skunky floor. The smell of gore added to the fumes from all the fired pistol was getting unbearable; the double doors were now wide open, but it was a warm night without wind.

Kovalov kept grunting, plowing Anastasia harder if anything, his hands pressed on her breasts through her corset, her travel dress pushed all the way up while her naked legs offered something ghastly and flaccid as her whole body moved along with his frantic strokes, her head bobbing, and nodding on and on, as if saying yes and yes, to that sort of rape, just nodding on and on, absurdly to an absurd fate. Her eyes closed. With that same baby-fat that made her face look adorable in her own merry-little way.

I pulled out the Mauser pistol I had not used at all yet.

"Get it over quick, Kovalov, or I swear to God I'll shoot you right where you are!"

"AAAAAAYY YYUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNGGGHH..."

Kovalov was shivering on top of her as he uttered this long-winded groan that echoed toward the cellar as he relieved himself, Nastya's head always bobbing and nodding as he kept on with his pounding until he was forced to stop upon reaching that point well known to us men, where you want to prolong and bask in the bliss, but it turns into pain so you must stop and settle for a post-climax bliss.

Other men wanted to follow suit.

"Enough of this!" I barked, my Mauser ominous in my hand, reminding them of the Soviet authority in my person. "Now let's get started! Pavel, Nikulin! Get the men moving! We must load the bodies on that truck! We have a long way ahead of us. Ermakov! Stop playing with Maria's tits and help us!"

The drunkard half-obeyed, half-kept on playing with Maria's breath-taking breasts; they were still gorgeous to behold even with this bloody mess left by two shots between them. Her sternum must have been broken by the impacts. I noticed that a rosy foam of blood and slobber was ebbing from her ajar mouth as Ermakov and another man reluctantly began to remove her torn-open nightgown along with her dress, all the way along her dead legs, not without groping her while doing so.

While the men were busy moving the corpses, I quickly examined Maria's undergarments and found that nothing had been sewn inside her corset, which confirmed my suspicion that her family had ceased to trust her because she was a bit too flirtatious with the guards. At that very moment, I found myself wishing I had met such a girl like Maria Romanova earlier in my life and remembered the time I had spent inside her. It may sound strange, perhaps evil, but I never had intimacy with a woman without feeling a strong bond of affection for her. And besides, I had only had sex with two Marias, the one that was now a naked corpse being loaded in the back of a truck, and my wife. I felt so riddled by guilt! What was I thinking? I didn't deserve a wife like Maria.

It was quite an ordeal to keep the men focused on their task. Pavel Medvedev began kissing Olga's bare feet as soon as he had removed her shoes and her long socks. I had to use all my leadership skills to keep them going when one man decided that kissing Tatiana's legs and feet under her dress was a fun thing to do after she had been shot dead, then another decided to masturbate and didn't have time to splatter his load on Olga's face before I scolded him back to work. Even Alexandra their mother wasn't spared such indignities. I repeatedly ordered the men to leave the female corpses clothed, barring Maria who had already been stripped.

I saw to it that Maria's body was properly wrapped in a blanket and put in a corner of the truck's cargo bed. I closely supervised the operation. The female corpses were laid onto the ground over blankets, then wrapped in them as per Nikulin's instructions. The male corpses, barring the former Czar, were summarily wrapped in blankets, then thrown onto the roof-less cargo bed like sacks of potatoes, as per Ermakov's instructions. The man was so drunk!

"Ermakov, go get the shovels! We need them for the burial!" I said. Bloody drunkard!

Some of the men couldn't help themselves and covered Anastasia's face with kisses, where she still lay on the ground. Others had unwrapped her body and were now lifting her dress and covering her legs and bare feet with kisses galore after removing her socks and shoes like they had seen done to Olga's and Tania's bodies. Pavel ordered the men to "wrap that corpse again and get the deuce back to work!" What a sordid affair this was! The worst was to admit to myself that I did feel the urge and curiosity to do the same and perhaps more with Anastasia's body, for she looked quite charming, even in death.

I looked at her. Her face had been left uncovered when the men hastily obeyed, but couldn't help but stop wrapping her at her neck. Her cheeks so soft and smooth, still rosy in this display of a sleeping maiden's face that made one think she'd suddenly wake up from her slumber and ask for "some strawberries with whipped cream, like they do it in England" as I had heard her say a couple of times as of late. Poor girl! Having this done to her was so against my Lutheran beliefs... Just having had intercourse with a lady who wasn't my wife had been sacrilege enough!

"I said get back to work! We still have a lot of work to do! Remember, the Ural Soviet have their eyes set on us! We can't botch this job!"

The mention of the Ural Soviet had a powerful effect on the men. As they realized what danger they'd be in if they failed, they became very zealous and soon enough, nearly all the wrapped bodies were in the truck, together in a heap, with Maria's body left alone in a different corner of the cargo bed, and a bit loosely wrapped, no doubt because the men had it in their head to grope the corpse all the time during the ride.

"If I catch anyone of you groping a dead girl during the ride, I'll have him shot!" I thundered. "Now get it over with! Pavel! Nikulin! See to it that they behave!"

I had first planned to have all the female bodies stripped and their clothes and belongings stored in my office, but I had found this to be impossible to do without the men losing all semblance of discipline. Most men seem to lose the ability to think straight when in the vicinity of some pretty girl to fuck or abuse, even when she's a corpse. I would later write in my report that the men were remarkable in their discipline and didn't steal anything from the bodies. I would of course make no mention of the rapes and state that the execution took about 10 minutes to carry out, due to the caustic smoke having forced us to wait a few minutes until it cleared out, before finishing off any survivors with bayonets.

As Pavel and Nikulin were picking up her body to load her onto the truck, Anastasia rose from her blanket!

She sat, her eyes wide open and staring up at the myriad of stars, she took one large breath and shouted, "Ivan! Ivan Sidorov! I love you! You and I forever!"

"She's still alive?!" Pavel ejaculated, his face as white as death. He and Nikulin walked away as if they had seen a ghost!

"Ivan, my love forever! Come and take me away! Forever!"

"The little tramp! Why can't she just daredevil die? Die now, little cheap tramp!" Ermakov yelled at the youngster as he began to bayonet her face again, again and again, even after she had fallen back and after he had skewered her twice in the throat. He bayoneted her face again and then some more, with a hatred that just wouldn't stop. He made such a bloody unsightly mess of her face that two of my men walked away and vomited. I myself looked away. Ermakov was horribly drunk. I felt like dismissing him on the spot, but I needed him to keep control of those men who worked for him, and who were waiting for us down the road near the site chosen for the disposal of the bodies.

Oleg had been hitting Nicholas's face with the butt of his pistol repeatedly for quite a while when I ordered him to stop and help loading this last corpse inside the Fiat truck, whose engine had been kept idling for half an hour straight. Three or four times more, I had to stop the men from unwrapping and contemplating, or even worshiping the bodies of Maria, Olga and Tatiana, while they had quickly wrapped Anastasia's remains inside her blanket.

***

I sat beside the driver as the truck, heavily laden, left Yekaterinburg, the engine roaring with its 60 horsepower on the road bound for the Koptyaki forest, with the men cramped together behind with the corpses. I had entrusted Pavel Medvedev and Nikulin to see to it that none of the men did anything funny with the dead girls. Heavily laden, the vehicle began to struggle on the road as it soon turned boggy.

It struggled on for the better part of an hour, about fourteen verstes (9 miles) before reaching the Koptyaki forest. A bit less of a verst further on, near the crossing no. 185, the truck's sluggish headlights showed me a group of men. Those were no doubt the men working for Ermakov. They were waiting with horses and light carts. The driver stopped close by, leaving the headlights on. I noticed that these men were nearly all armed with a rifle and I didn't like this.

As we disembarked, Ermakov came straight to their leader, some heavy-set drunkard who looked obtuse-minded in unkempt clothes, predictably so. He also looked dangerous with a holstered Nagant, which I noticed he was carrying low, plump where his hand would fall to draw it. This was worse company than I had thought, a bunch of absolute brigands. Ermakov bitterly disappointed me!

I went to the back of the truck while Ermakov and my men where cheering and chatting along with those men, who began smoking. There was only one shovel near the wrapped corpses.

"One shovel! You brought only one shovel for the burial?!" I yelled at Ermakov without looking at the leader of this collection of drunkards.

"Is this true? The girls are already dead?" replied the leader, uninvited. He wore an incredibly greasy black soft cap and had the face of some fat fish that had somehow turned into a human, a degenerate one at that, albeit his right hand was hoovering close to his holstered revolver. Although he was intoxicated with his eyelids heavy with vodka amid the face of some yellowish fishy Buddha, the yellow headlights from the truck showed something sharp in his eyes.

"The girls are all dead!" he said after a few seconds, translating my silence into yes. His men, all twenty of them, if not twenty-five, had been drinking and they were soon outraged upon learning that the prisoners were not brought to them alive. They went to check and became enraged when they unwrapped the bodies and found that the Romanov daughters were all dead.

As they found Maria's body without any clothes, they understood that we clearly had done things to the girls before killing them! This was getting seriously dangerous. One of the drunkards walked away to vomit when his buddies uncovered Anastasia's disfigured face.

"So you had some fun of your own, eh?" the fish-fat leader said, his mouth showing peculiarly thick lips, walking right up to me, all six feet of him as I suddenly noticed he had drawn his gun while my eyes failed to see it, so swift the move had been! He reeked vodka, yet he looked at me with sharp death in his eyes.

"All right boys, unload the goods and let's see if there's some flesh still good to use there!" the drunkard in chief barked while pointing his gun at me.

"The Soviet will have you shot for this!" I barked back, standing tall and keeping my composure, although I feared there could be bloodshed. Pavel and Nikulin drew their own handguns, but were outnumbered by no less than eight or ten drunkards who pointed their rifles at them. Ermakov stood by and said nothing; the traitor! The rest of the men unbuckled their belts, dropping all their weapons as they raised their hands in surrender. I have to admit there wasn't much else to do. The drunkards had clearly planned to gang-rape the daughters and had armed themselves to make their intention a sure thing.

The leader spoke again.

"Look, my dear Comrade, you're outnumbered! So, you had some fun with the girls! Who are we to blame you!" spoke the man with his fishy thick lips that made his smiling face look grotesque and even more intensely yellow in the truck's headlights as his eyes narrowed with deep wrinkles in their corner. He removed his greasy cap, showing a shiny bald head as his narrowed eyes exploded with anticipation, his big smiling face both evil and clownish, as one of his men reported that one girl was still breathing.

It was like a rush for gold! All the men at once, my own and them, made for the back of the Fiat truck! Some of those men had lanterns, and it was found that Maria was the one still breathing. The lanterns shone on the ghastly splendour of her bosom where she lay on the ground amid her open blanket, offering a macabre painting where youth met blood and tragedy, both ready for death and ready for breast feeding. The slight rising of her chest gave the tell-tale sign she was indeed still breathing.

The dark blanket made her radiantly pale under these golden lights as the men who had them stooped down and all Maria was revealed to those drunkards who, only yesterday, would have been jailed, then executed, for getting too close to a fully dressed Grand Duchess. Now she was naked and closely surrounded by drunkards. Almost a corpse.

"Yeepi! Look at her tits! Fun time!" said one of them.

"All right boys! Take her over there, yeah, the place looks flat and dry enough. We do her in order. I go first!" said the leader with his fishy-fat face almost bursting with joy, his eyes burning with madness as he only thought of sinking inside the Grand Duchess.

"But wait! What if she's un-dead?!"

"Yes! She's nosferatu! She rose from her own death! I'm out!" yapped one man as he took to his heels, followed by a few more drunkards.

"Nosferatu! Nosferatu!"

"She's a witch! Rasputin cast an evil spell on her! Run! Run before it's too late!"

Several more men ran for their lives, leaving about half of their mates, maybe thirteen men, who called them "a bunch of scared old women" along with the heavy-set leader, who presently plunged onto Maria's still breathing body and began to suck her perky breasts, not minding the dark patch of dry blood and the two bullet holes in the middle of her cleavage.

The dirty remaining dozen were in a berserk state with only one thought. Fucking Maria. Some fired rifle-shots at the stars as they celebrated. Others drank some left-over vodka.

Most of my men were alas in a similar state, and three of the drunkards kept enough foresight to keep our bundled weapons under watch. These sharper men pointed their rifles at me, Pavel and Nikulin and we had to comply and turn in all our pistols, including the Smith & Wesson .38 revolver, which one of the men took and slid under his belt after looking at it as if it were a holy relic.

"Buckaroo," I heard him say. He had a strong Lithuanian accent. I suddenly shivered as if a ghost stood nearby watching Maria's ultimate defilement.

Unarmed, I walked into the circle of men, along with Pavel and Nikulin. Ermakov, his pistols still under his belt, stood by and smiled while the drunkard in chief knelt between Maria's spread out legs. He dropped his trousers and let out a wicked erection. It was wicked due to its twisted shape on top of its size, which was quite impressive. As he began to masturbate in a celebratory manner, Maria moaned in pain.

She half opened her eyes and I saw the terror in them. Upon looking at the pleasing, yet ghastly softness of her flattened breasts where she lay, I had a sudden urge myself to fuck her one last time, and felt insanely curious to witness the improbable encounter between this overweight, balding drunkard with a fish-fat face of yellow skin and Grand Duchess Maria Romanova of Russia. This was more a danse macabre than a gang-rape, and yet I now felt horny and the deepest fibres within me wanted to be part of it.

The dance began.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHRRRR AT LAST!" grunted the fishy drunkard in chief as he found himself imprisoned inside Maria, who must feel very tight indeed for a man with such a large one, and he had no option left other than begin to pound her, which he did in a brutal style that perfectly suited him. His shiny bald head signed the crime in his personal yellowish way on top of the half dead girl.

"Aaah Aaak Aaah Aaaahh Aah ooh, yeah, good fuck! Aaah, YEAAHHH! very good fuck!"

His words and his grunting echoed against the nearby trees as he took his vile pleasure, propped up on his arms like I did myself, and Ermakov as well when we raped her in the house's cellar during the execution. Maria took the pounding with her head bobbing, feebly moaning with pinkish foam always coming out of her mouth, always with the same terror in her eyes as she kept gazing at her ugly rapist, as if asking him why he was doing this or whether he had a daughter of her age, while he didn't mind the dark spot of dried blood between her jiggling breasts; they looked fantastic with her ever-dancing nipples bathed by the golden light from the lanterns held low and close by for the best view on her defiled splendour.

A clear ill smell emanated from that heavy man who kept plowing her while showing us how hairy his butt was. His grunts easily buried her feeble moans...

"Aaah... Aah! At last! A Romanov! I can fuck herrrhh! AAA AAAA AAAAAAAA YEAH IT'S THERE! AT LAST! AT LAST YES YES YES YES YES! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHRR YEAHH!!! uugghh..."

After this ghastly unthinkable act of near necrophilia, the vile man got back up on his feet and used the top of his hand to rub the frothing slobber off his thick fishy lips as he looked directly at me and nodded.

"She's a very good fuck! How can I blame you, pal?" he finally said, smiling as he put his filthy trousers back together and made sure his Nagant was still in its holster. He then stepped back where he could keep us under his watchful eye.

What happened next would be the most despicable and evil thing I've ever seen. And I was shamefully part of it. As the rest of the drunkards took their pleasure inside Maria in the same way as their leader, others didn't want to wait and went to look for the other female bodies. They found Olga and Tatiana, both as dead as a door nail, Olga with her skewered throat and Tatiana with her bullet wound that had entered the back of her head and left a ghastly wider opening in the middle of her forehead.

With their leader's approval, the handful of devils quickly stripped both corpses naked. Once both cadavers were spread-eagled on the muddy road, they began taking horrific turns inside them, even commenting on their pussy hair. They threw a blanket over Tatiana's face because they found her bullet wound too disturbing to look at. The show of her tits became a ghastly grotesque dance of dead flesh that looked all the paler and grotesque against the blanket that hid her face. Two of my own men were partaking.

Ermakov was presently screaming his bliss as he relieved himself inside Maria, whose feeble moaning told me she was still alive and aware of what was being done to her body. Men fired more rifle-shots and cheered. "Bring the vodka! I want to lick it off her tits!" said one drunkard.

"Let's see her ass! Let's drink vodka off her butt!" ejaculated another.

"Hurray! We won!"

More rifle-shots tore the still of the night... Poww! Pow ppoww!!!

"Yeah, let's kiss and lick her butt! Then fuck her like the bitch she is!"

"The witch! Rasputin had her under his spell. We must purify her! Yeeepi!!!"

"Hrrr hrr hrr hrrr hrrr aaaaahh, she's a good fuck-- nnNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!"

"You didn't last long, Boris! My turn now! Let's see if she's as tight as Robolski says."

Maria's ordeal went on. I saw they had rolled her around and now held her in place, on her knees and elbows as her moaning shifted, with clear notes of pain. The man bragged he was now "raping her royal ass!" and he laughed as he sodomized her, very painfully so as the dying girl no doubt wished she were dead.

While Tatiana's flesh was further defiled, Olga's body was being held on all fours and I couldn't help but notice how gorgeous her body was in the nude! Once or twice, I had felt a violent urge to take a few men and drag her into my office, strip her naked and see how beautiful she must be without any clothes. What I saw was beyond my wildest expectations! Even in death, Olga Romanova was the most beautiful naked woman I had ever seen! The Prince of Romania would have pushed for marriage with a lot more zeal if he had known how gorgeous Olga's body truly was.

Two of the men were stepping off the truck while one of them was bragging he had just fingered the former Czarina and said, "Now I can die in peace!" They both stopped dead in their tracks as they saw Olga's body on all fours, her arms kept straight by men surrounding it and offering the loveliest bottom and backside mankind had seen! Let alone mentioning her legs and feet to die for. They both rushed at the scene and began to masturbate in frantic exertions.

The first man who fucked Olga's dead body lasted no more than thirty seconds of bliss where he kept her inert waist under his firm hold and went at it in urgent collisions against this butt from heaven. Her buns of flesh resonated in soft slapping sounds with the girly fat rolling and giving the illusion she was still alive, but the corpse took the pounding in silence. The man screamed like a banshee when he exploded.

The next man eagerly followed suit, and didn't last much longer. He gave Olga's beauty a tribute in the form of a great deal of foaming slobber as he raped the corpse with his mouth wide open, his eyes consumed by lust as he doubled down and went into a frenzy where he screamed all through his finale, his hands clutching the crease of her hips as he flooded her dead pussy with living sperm. Her soft curves were a song to watch against his lap. I suddenly realized the man was none other than Nikulin, the very one who had slain her.

I was crazy! Once more I had a raging erection. The leader of the drunkards laughed at me as I undid my trousers and began to masturbate. I didn't care.

"Now you're a real pal!" the leader said. He even tapped my shoulder in a friendly way. "By the way, I'm Igor Robolski. I'll tell you what. Once we're done with out little, uh, our little celebration here, we'll help you with the bodies. There's a mine shaft at the site, ten metres deep, so we'll just drop the bodies there and bury them. But first, we'll enjoy the tyrant's daughters. Too bad he's too dead to watch this! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

I didn't care anymore. Whatever! I was under an evil spell, unable to take my eyes off the butt of the corpse that used to be Olga Romanova of Russia. What a gorgeous thing it was! I was as stiff as an oak branch! Maria was still feebly moaning amid a rape that could turn into her funerals at any moment. I waited and masturbated on while three more men, the truck's driver among them, took their turns inside Olga's body, each one sounding like a shot or dying man when he emptied his balls inside what looked like the most beautiful vampiress in the nude.

At last came my turn to rape Olga's charms beyond death. As my Lutheran soul was beyond ashamed, I sank my knees into the mud behind the sleeping Grand Duchess, and while Pavel and others kept the corpse firmly in place on its hands and knees, I speared my erection inside it and let out one yell of horror and delight as I pushed deep inside and put my hands on its dead buttocks, feeling their soft warmth as her death was only an hour and a half recent. My fingers felt the yielding flesh and convinced me this was a living girl I was inside of. I pounded her, abandoning my soul into this act of barbarism!

I let my body grunt all it wanted as I repeated the lovely collisions amid jeering drunkards, one of whom spilled some vodka on Olga's seemingly alive butt as I had my stiff way inside her and accelerated upon feeling the throbbing coming of my edge.

Oh! Good Lord! Save my damned soul! It felt beyond good! It was so painfully, unforgivably good when I erupted inside the corpse like a full-blown geyser! It felt just as satisfying as raping Carmilla after finding the vampiress asleep and then raping her young body after stripping her out of her death-white gown. Ungodly so! Oh Lord did I scream!

***

Maria's eyes turned glossy under the repeated rapes. Each man raped her the same way. Robolski took another turn inside her. I thought I heard Maria's feeble moaning, but it was no more. Maria was no more. I was sure of it. It happened during Robolski's second turn, perhaps before. Robolski kept pounding the cadaver until he screamed at its face as he ejaculated forcefully, his final moan sounding like a man in deep pain and devoid of hope.

Three or four of the men who had run away came back. One was brave enough to rape Maria's corpse. The others just remained there, visibly too afraid to go any closer. They undid their trousers and began to masturbate.

A group of gone-crazy men dragged Anastasia's body and desecrated it by placing it on all fours, on its knees and elbows, with the buttocks protruding, making the scene grotesquely horrific as they took great care in keeping the head under a blanket. The skin was ghastly pale against the dark blanket. Each of the man took a turn in kissing and licking the girly butt after pouring vodka on it, even commenting on "the girly fat" as they licked the pretty plumpness of those dead slabs of flesh. One of them whooped like a horny monkey as he knelt behind the pretty thing and took his pleasure! Holding the crease of the young hips as he kept thrusting against the dead flesh while others commented on "those lovely little curves" "with just the right amount of fat".

Another one also raped Nastya's corpse in the same manner, and ended the slug-fest by yelling "Here you aa-aaaaare! Uughh! The little tramp!"

Many men kept their hands on Maria's breasts as they raped her body, making her whimper from the pressure and not minding the ugly blotch of dark dry blood between those pressed tits. I was shocked. She was still alive?! After all this?! Somewhere in the never-ending succession of urgent rapes and return customers who were having her a second or even a third time, Maria's eyes became glossy again. This time for good.

There wasn't much change in the way her body responded to each man's thrusts and strokes; her head kept bobbing like the head of a lifeless doll. We all felt something essential had shifted. Each new man was now enjoying the pussy of a corpse as Maria's empty eyes remained open as she seemed to gaze at the stars, but nothing was there anymore. What a pity to see the death of such beautiful eyes! She had her whole life ahead of her. We were all damned souls!

Maria was gone, but her body remained a fuck doll for us sinners. Some drunkards showed their hatred by spitting on the corpse and calling it a Czarist witch again and again. And yet, from the sounds I heard from them, they were more than happy to erupt inside it with their load. Left and right, others were doing likewise with the other corpses. Three of my own men were even raping Nastya's body while keeping a blanket over the horror of her mutilated face.

"The Czarist witch! Uuggghh! She deserves this! Aaahhh! This is so God-forbid good!" Pavel Medvedev ejaculated as he relieved himself and splattered Maria's face. The girl seemed asleep. I was no longer horrified by the twin bullet holes in her chest. She made a very beautiful corpse.

She suddenly looked as if she were stirring and about to open her eyes, my blood ran cold, but it was only the truck driver who presently moved her as he took his fare by also relieving himself in the dark dry-blood valley of her breasts.

***

A glimmer of grey light in the eastern sky told us we had been at it for too long. Robolski and Ermakov gave orders and all the remaining drunkards began to wrap the bodies anew inside the blankets. They carried them all to the horse-drawn carts, where they loaded them pell-mell, about three or four bodies for each cart, except the last one who received two.

The blankets were wrapped reluctantly over Tatiana's bosom and Olga's equally intact breasts while Oleg kept congratulating Nikulin for the efficient manner he had executed Olga. "A clean execution it was! Just like it ought to be done! Plump in the middle of the throat! Plump in the middle! Leaving the breasts clean and gorgeous!" Oleg kept saying as he got busy and helped the others in loading the wrapped bodies in the waiting carts, while Lucifer* broke above the horizon, a bright dot of light that heralded the coming of a new day. The first day the Romanovs were no more. (* Venus)

My legs were still wobbly from the insane ejaculation I had experienced during the danse macabre we had with the last of the Romanovs.

I climbed back at the front of the truck and ignored the driver's remark about "the jolly good fuck he'd just had". The truck resumed its snail's pace journey on the boggy road, followed by the horse-drafted carts loaded with the bodies and the cock-satisfied drunkards walking behind them. The sky looked bloody red with a high world of pink hues intensifying against small and thin cream-grey clouds as I watched the sunrise, my damned soul lost in a world of fiery golden light as the sun suddenly pointed her accusing rays upon my head.

At one point, the Fiat truck got bogged down on marshy terrain. Its valiant 60-hp motor roared, but the tires spun and got even deeper in this old Siberian mud while the sun began her daily climb as if smiling down on us.

"I like to call the sun a she like they do in Germany, although I don't speak a word of German," I remarked to the waiting driver while men pushed at the stubborn truck to no avail.

So we went on on foot. Thankfully, the burial site wasn't too far. Only a bit more than a half verst.

The idea of seeing the girls topless under the sun became too strong a temptation for all of us. Once at the site, we unwrapped all dead girls except Anastasia. Robolski had the former Czar's body moved where they left it sitting against a tall pine, where it seemed to be watching as the three elder daughters were unwrapped out of their dark blankets and they looked splendidly gorgeous in a show of erotic horror under the brightening sun. One of the drunkard said he was a painter and it was a pity there was no time for art, that it was evil to kill such lovely ladies.

Tatiana's unsightly wound amid her forehead looked strange and out of place against the graceful nakedness displayed by her corpse, complete with the radiating darkness of her pubic hair that occupied a large area in the south of her sun-bathed hips. The sunny play of her breasts with nipples pointing here and there above shadows on a bright and slim anatomy, made it look like she was still alive and could open her eyes at any moment and turn as all into stone; so classic was the sleeping beauty of her face.

Maria's breasts offered a macabre sight with that patch of dry blood left by the bullets. And yet I felt drawn to this display of knolls of glorious cream-pale skin pushed out of her dead torso, where jeering men held the corpse standing, profaning its sacred dignity with their gazes.

No less than five or six men took their turn in sucking those breasts, then in raping the corpse once again while others kept it standing with the legs wide apart. It was a horrible sort of rape where the man stood against the dead girl while penetrating the pussy, usually holding one of her legs up against him while thrusting his way to an unsightly climax. The weirdest detail was that Maria's body was beginning to stiffen due to rigor mortis, which actually made it easier to hold it there while each man further damned his soul by taking pleasure out of this. Each man shamelessly filled up the corpse while grunting in insanity.

Olga's corpse was once more held on all fours and raped by a succession of several men, including Robolski and alas, myself. Another group gave the same tribute to Tatiana's beauty, each man commenting on "the stupefying whiteness of her ass" while taking his pleasure and oftentimes looking at Olga's curves as he did so. All this grim circus unfolded in front of the dead Czar and the equally dead Czarina, whose body had also been left sitting against the same tall pine, right beside her dead husband.

Then, when all was said and done, a man holding a large Turkish yatagan began to scream in alarm. "The vampiress! We must drive a wooden stake through her heart and cut her head off!" and on this, the madman went straight at Maria's body and drove the yatagan through her torso where the body had been left lying. The long curved blade went right through it and struck the muddy ground underneath.

"Here, a branch! It will do, it's pointy enough!" and the madman handed the large curvy branch to the man with the yatagan. Once he had set down his Turkish sabre on the ground, the first madman was helped by the second one and together, they both drove the pointy branch inside Maria's bosom to her left side, causing much blood to gush out and flow down on the mud as they strained and strained, doing their utmost to drive this thing right through her body.

Then, once they were satisfied they had gone through Maria's heart, the first madman picked up his yatagan, Lord knows where he had got this, and swiftly he chopped down at Maria's exposed neck, but the blade struck a vertebra and a ghastly-looking wound ensued as he raised the blade again and struck down at the half-severed neck and much gore gushed out and a rope of blood went nearly as high as the man's face!

He hit Maria's neck again, again and again. The head was finally severed on the seventh strike as the drunkard learned it takes skill to cut a head off in one strike.

"Die! You Czarist witch!" he finally said as he wiped the blood-soiled blade in a nearby patch of long grass.

***

Robolski had the man loaning him the yatagan, which proved quite handy in the grim task of dismembering the corpses. The sun was already way up in the sky when we at last got through the butchery of dismembering all eleven corpses after stripping them of all clothes. I had an unpleasant surprise when I found that the mine shaft was only one third as deep as Robolski had said. No more than three metres deep! I was sore because I knew I'd have to come back and find a deeper hole, but there was no time now. Someone could come and see us.

We threw all the remains at the bottom of the shallow mine shaft, but then another problem! The shallow water at the bottom of the shallow pit wasn't fully submerging the bodies, where Maria's severed head seemed to look at us with blue eyes filled with sunlight and a dead fish's hope. I cursed! And yet I felt the deepest affection for this poor young lady who had met such a horrific demise.

After the men tossed the last of the bloody remains into the shaft, I had two full jerricans of sulfuric acid poured over them. Then I ordered the men to throw grenades in an attempt to collapse the ditch over the remains and left Pavel and Nikulin in charge as more grenades were thrown before the men began shoving earth over the acid-burned remains until the bodies were covered and hidden, and then to throw branches and small stones on top of it for good measure.

Thankfully, the drunkards had shovels of their own. I was ultimately not overly angry at Robolski, since he had been as good as his word and did help us, although more than half of his men had vanished as soon as they were finished with dumping the dead girls into the ditch. I had also instructed the men to sit down and eat some hard-boiled eggs I had brought there for the planned pause. Robolski made a small campfire and would soon have some hot chai for all to drink.

While they were burying the bodies and having their pause, I took the corsets and other garments of the women and minutely inspected them. I used a sharp Swiss Army knife to open them swiftly. The corsets of Olga, Tatiana and Anastasia contained a great many jewels and gems, and this explained in part why Nastya had survived the bullet she had received in her belly. The gemstones had acted as a protective layer. When I inspected the sailor's outfit taken from the Tsarevitch, then I understood why the little bastard just wouldn't die when I shot him in the chest and Ermakov tried to bayonet him. The clothes were absolutely filled with sewn-in gems and jewels!

I then inspected the Czarina's dress and corset. There was a king ransom's worth of gems and diamonds in there! Same for the pillow the maid had tried to protect herself with.

All in all, I found about 15, nay probably 20 pounds of diamonds and other precious gems and jewels! I put them all in a strong sack I had brought for the task and took my leave without saying goodbye. I used trails and walked to the south through the forest in order not to be beaten up or worse by my own men and the drunkards as the temptation to steal the gems would be too strong. After seeing them give in to lust, I didn't trust them to remain disciplined against a treasure of precious stones. They were still bragging and joking about how good it felt to rape Maria and the others as I quietly left. I would be long gone when they'd realize I was gone.

After a daylong walk under a punishing sun, through winding trails and in thick forest, avoiding the main road, avoiding farms as well, after eating only a handful of boiled eggs that were meant for the Romanovs, and after getting lost and finding my way back three or four times... I finally reached Yekaterinburg. It was already evening and the sky was once again bloodshot with a powerfully orange sun. A flaming orange that already imprisoned my soul in hell. There was no redemption to what I had done.

My stomach was making noises of hunger, but before I supped, I stopped at a brothel, where one lovely gypsy girl worked, or at least she looked like one. Tamara was her name. She was said to be the daughter of a Baron who had been shot the week before in the forest along with General Tatischev. The brothel's owner, some old hag who had been pretty in her own day, had been offering me "the best fuck there is for a noble customer like you".

The old hag pushed the small girl inside the room more than she introduced her. "Here's Tamara! Five rubbles now!"

I paid and she slammed the door. "One hour!" the hag yelled through the door.

I dropped the sack containing the Romanovs jewel near the bed and inspected the goods that stood before me, all five feet of her. The hag had told me she was fifteen and as clean as a whistle. The girl silently stood and looked back at me with her dark brown eyes, her face pretty in the loveliest way between curtains of long raven hair. Something in the way she looked told me she was probably more like nineteen years of age, but she did look like a maiden, although it was plain her virginity was long gone.

She wore a loose white shirt that hinted at a pair of small breasts that had to be as white as her pristine-looking face. This with a dark brown skirt short enough to reveal her lower legs and a pair of bare feet that strongly aroused me. I loved how a red ribbon further brought out the black in her sleek hair. Her skin looked pure and devoid of any vile features. Her hands! Soft and untouched by hard labour. Those were the hands of a maiden who had been used to dancing and reading books.

"Tell me, girl. Are you the daughter of a Baron?"

"I'll be whatever you want me to be, good Sir!" the docile girl told me, her voice troubled while casting her eyes down, in a way that seemed she was on the verge of tears. That's when I understood she indeed used to be a noble-maid and most certainly had been gang-raped by an entire platoon of Bolsheviks before ending up in this shit-hole of a brothel. "They call me the Gypsy girl around here. I can tell your fortune with playing cards if you're not in the mood for s..."

I had grabbed her and shoved her on the bed. "Noble-maid! Noble-maid! Your ass is just what I need! A noble white ass to fuck! Yes to fuck and shake!" I said like a madman as I violently ripped her blouse open and began to suck those small tits like a man who had gone two years without seeing a woman!

"Yes! Yes! A noble ass! Noble girl!" I kept saying as I urgently tucked her dress up to her slim waist and undid my dirty trousers, noticing two blood stains that seemed to look back at me as witnesses of my crime. "Noble girl!" I repeated as I moved myself between her legs and she didn't struggle or resist, clearly used to be treated in this manner.

"Resist! Resist, you tramp!" I said as I slapped her. And then she began to struggle.

"Please, good Sir! No!"

"Unconvincing!" I yelled. "Resist, I say! Resist for real, little cheap tramp!" And I slapped her again.

This time she tried to hit me back and I caught her fists. She had cute little fists, with wrists that felt full of throbbing life where I violently restrained her and I shook her on her pillow, violently so!

"P-please noo! Nooo!" she blurted out as I shook her head up and down where her hair got loose and made a blurry veil. "P-pleeeze stop stop!"

"Aaahhh! That's more like it! Rhaaaaahhh! I'm gonna rape you! Cheap little baroness!"

As I spoke I pinned her wrists on either side of her pillow and covered the lovely little paradise of her tits with a flurry of angry kisses and fierce adoration. Tongue strokes upon tongue strokes! Long and wet strokes until her breasts were coated with my slobber and shimmered under the bedside lamp, her nipples looking up here and there, a powerful wine of a lovely brownish hue for me to drink with my eyes, further intoxicating me on top of her scent. She smelled so good!

She looked back at me, panting, her dark eyes quiet, her face expressing a deeply troubled nature that I suspected was already there even before she was gang-raped by Red soldiers. Gang-rape! The thought stiffened my erection. I loved the troubled light in her dark eyes.

"I want to partake to your rape, Baroness! I want you to tell me how the Soviets raped you while I fuck you!"

Then I pushed against her entrance, my eyes locked into hers. I was now fully on top of her and I used my entire weight, and I entered like butter, for she had put some sort of oil in there beforehand. My body and face close to her, I began to pound her while picturing her being stripped out of an expensive dress by a band of jeering drunkard soldiers, their uniforms wide open and showing a great deal of bare chest, each of them sweating in urgent exertions as he took his turn on top of her.

I began to pound her, raising my head to look into her dark troubled eyes. How pretty she was as I fucked her deep while signing "Dark Eyes" in my mind.

Dark eyes, passionate eyes,
Burning and beautiful eyes!
How I love you, how I fear you,
It seems I met you in an unlucky hour! ...

"Tell me, Tamara, tell me how they raped you before you became the Gypsy girl! I wanna know!" I said, feeling her tightness as I slowed down inside her, truly enjoying the moment as I felt like a mere private inside the daughter of a Baron during the sacking of his château. Raping her right in front of her beaten-up father!

As I furthered my pleasure inside her while kissing her pure white neck, lost in the magic night of her hair, Tamara began to speak. Oh, I loved this!

"They erupted in the cabin I was sharing with Father! This was on the Russ, about two, two months ago, ooh yes! Keep plowing me! It's so good!"

"Stop acting and tell me what happened for, ahh, you're good to fuck! For real!"

"They they dragged me out of my, ahh, my cabin and they raped me on deck! After tearing all my clothes! They were they were so hard when they saw me, naked, and I felt horny! In secret! So troubling! Each of them! Twenty of them! More! All all inside me... Even Father! They they made him fuck me..."

I kept listening as she told me of a fat accordionist who was almost fifty with an impossibly thick beard. So grotesque! But he was kind in a brutal way! She described how he had her while naked and resting on his side while her legs were propped up and her bottom kept striking his large heavy frame as he took her sort of sideways, but with her legs and feet above his side, her heels often striking his large naked frame and she secretly enjoyed this.

"He loved doing this! Men were kissing my feet! One even came on them! So troubling, my good Sir! I,, oooh yes! I loved it in secret! So so troubling! Twenty more men for me, perhaps the whole Red Army for me alone, the troubled girl! Yes keep going! I l-love to be fucked like this!"

I was no longer there. I kept my face buried in her hair, prisoner of her scent, of her charms, of her voice as she told me how General Tatischev bucked her from behind on the deck of the Russ. Her small breasts nearly crushed against me, I felt them through my sweaty shirt as I reached my edge, then I felt her heels touching my bare buttocks where I was fucking her deep and hard and she had her legs nearly wrapped around me. My mind's eyes saw these pretty feet of hers!

And I screamed! Yelled into her neck! "We killed the Romanovs! We killed the men and then we raped the daughters!"

Tamara screamed along with me. I will never know for sure whether she acted it or she climaxed for real. She was already such a well-trained prostitute! With such incredibly lovely feet! Her legs and feet alone convinced me to pay fifteen more rubbles, after some fierce negotiations with the hag, so I could spend four more hours with her.

She was even a better fuck from behind, or on the table with her legs propped up. I truly tried her out. Sodomized her when I had her from behind on the creaking bed. I loved the feeling of being a soldier raping a baron's daughter, ejaculating inside her while kissing those dainty feet of hers! After a long and hard fuck on a table that creaked loud and threatened to collapse. Small girl, big load! Her moans hugged me every time I erupted.

My damned soul needed this. Such a well-trained, lovely little tramp born to a noble family.

Later that night, around 2 a.m., I was back in the House of Special Purpose, which I found eerily still. Pavel Medvedev, the commander of the outer guards had greeted me with a relieved expression. "Where have you been? The Ural Soviet! They're waiting for your report!" he had said.

I had a hefty supper of bread and borscht brought to me; a double serving as I was positively famished. After eating half of my supper, I got some chai started in the stolen samovar of silver. Then I quickly wrote my report and gave it to Pavel to have it wired to the Ural Soviet Committee at once.

In a nutshell, I wrote that the execution had been carried out as per orders. The bodies were disposed of in a mine shaft that was only three metres deep, and I recommended that we move the remains to a place with a deeper pit. Time had been lost because the men who were supposed to help us were in such an intoxicated state that I dismissed them all after they began groping the female bodies. Ermakov was also drunk, but all in all, the men in the firing squad showed remarkable discipline at this important moment in our revolutionary duty. A total of 18 pounds of diamonds, jewels and other precious gems was retrieved from the women's undergarments.

I kept nearly two pounds of precious stones for myself, with the intention of cashing them very little by very little. After all, my salary was meagre and I would need some extra rubbles to see more of the Gypsy girl, for she brought me good fortune. I couldn't get her out of my thoughts! Tamara and her dark troubled gaze.

Dark eyes, passionate eyes,
Burning and beautiful eyes!
How I love you, how I fear you,
It seems I met you in an unlucky hour! ...

After eating the rest of my cooling borscht along with the last half of my bread, I rummaged through some records that my men and I had stolen during the sack of a noble mansion last November. I pushed my empty dishes aside along with my papers, put the stolen gramophone on the table, served myself a glass of vodka and chose a record at random. It was called Danse Macabre, a title written in French in letters I could barely read. I played it.

At last, I could sit back and enjoy a quiet moment, sitting in a comfortable chair, stolen as well. Alone in the eerie house. Enriched by the orchestra that sounded grandiose in a gloomy way that perfectly reflected the title. There is art in murdering people. But we were only butchers. The playing record was like Maria or Olga and their beauty. It belonged to a world I would never be part of. I hated them for this.

I listened to this fascinating music, so refined, always in an eerie way, while drinking cheap vodka. I played the record twice.