Chapter 18: The Flogging

Sins have to be paid for! And there's always a scape-goat.

Captain Sidorov's Thoughts...

I attached my footsteps to the General's and walked out of the mayor's mansion as if I was one of his aides. The Major of our regiment also followed, along with the handsome Lieutenant commanding the light infantry company where I served as an unofficial supernumerary advisor. The first reason was a shared sense of curiosity as to what this court martial was about. The second reason appeared in front of me, in this bright morning sun, in the form of a neatly pretty young woman that looked tall and majestic in her saffron dress with long brown hair that fell like cascades of warm light under that sun.

Nadja. As usual, she was with her eunuchs, four muscular Turks dwarfing her with their large frames and wearing colourfully red outfits of Ottoman folklore that looked grotesquely out of place here in Yekaterinburg. Mahmoud their leader looked at me and my hand hoovering near my holstered Nagant. I saw the fear in his eyes and relished it! The eunuch had seen me shoot. As long as I was with the General and armed, I had nothing to fear from this young witch whose breasts kept tantalizing me as perky shapes hidden by her sunlit dress, under a corset I had never seen either. And yet I knew what her vagina felt like. Sometimes, I almost liked her.

I offered her a jeering grin as I walked past her, walking after the General and along the other officers, looking only briefly at her and those breast shapes I coveted so much it was now like an opium. The General had only nodded at her in a cold way, probably also taking note of this whorish looseness of her hair. He clearly didn't like her very much. And it was clear she loved to stand there and tantalize all men present, knowing no one would dare touch the Colonel's daughter.

As I walked away, I caught sight of the hobos and beggars who had nearly spent the whole night waiting for their chance to come inside the house and do what they please with the mayor's daughters. It was the usual dregs you'd find in any large city. Former soldiers maimed and/or disfigured for life; old men who'd sweep the street and beg for a living; sick men who had been deemed too sane to be in a madhouse; vagrants, etc. All of them ugly and wearing filthy clothes that should have been thrown away a couple of years ago. Most of them old enough to be grandfathers. All with the same light of mad lust in their eyes.

There was a temptation to go back inside and watch the unthinkable orgy, but I had already seen enough of such unthinkable scenes to be able to picture exactly what was going to happen and how, without even being there to see it. It would be a wild rush and perhaps fist-fights to see who would be the first man inside the mayor's younger daughter and her sister. The mother would be the acceptable alternative. The other wives and young ladies would also get their taste of a hobo's stinking intimacy and hear the vulgar grunting and jeering.

If they had some sense of style, which I doubted they had, they would run their dirty paws all over Yelizaveta's naked charms and Ekaterina's, committing those sensual curves to the memory of their touch; they would take the time to gently press those white breasts and hold these soft contours with their hands so they would enjoy the stark contrast between the genteel skin and the dirt of their hands; they would take the time to lick and kiss the young ladies everywhere, even their feet. And only then they would imprison them in the caressing prison of their grunting frames.

I heard the screams as I walked further away and recognized Ekaterina's broken voice. It had long turned husky. The loud acclaim and the vulgar jeering took possession of the mansion and I knew that those dregs of the city had no sense of style at all. They would immediately grab the daughters and rape them from behind, possibly deep inside the ass, like the bunch of no-good vagrants they were. They would drink all the vodka without the style to pour some of it on the young ladies. No style!

***

We didn't have to walk long. The court martial was set in the same plaza where yesterday's festivities had happened. The Commander-in-Chief was a man in his forties, with very short hair and a stern face with a long straight nose, wearing a khaki uniform with a Navy white peak-cap, imperial with three eagles on his shoulder pads. One could wonder what an Admiral was doing so far inland. His collar was decorated with a solemn white cross, perhaps bestowed by the Czar himself in better days, and there was much strength in his face. Another white cross above his left chest pocket confirmed he was a long-serving officer.

He sat on a cushion chair near a long table where three Generals already sat along with one Colonel. Before them stood thirteen men in a sorry line; men with faces cast down and holding their garrison caps in hands that were forced close together by bonds biting at their wrists. Men under guard, to be judged and sentenced.

Then I saw two noble-women, who stood by among another group of officers. I trembled as I grew aware that these two ladies were known to me; and I couldn't believe my eyes! There stood Countess Hendrikoff, shielded from the sun under the same wide hat I had seen her wearing when I first met her two months before in Tobolsk. She was just as lady-like as then, perhaps even more knowing what she had gone through. I still vividly remembered the noble-woman whose dress was savagely torn off her body by vodka-drinking Lithuanians. I especially remembered the very moment when those men made me have her first on the deck of the Russ, while Romanov daughters were being violated in their cabins.

I had every reason to tremble and fear for my life when the Countess suddenly looked at me, her face white, something unfathomable in her eyes. I was doomed! But she remained silent. Her unspeakable shame seemed to protect me.

At her side stood Tamara. Tamara as she was in Tobolsk, when she was still inviolate. There was no mistaking the troubled expression in her face, which blushed to a crimson as she recognized me; and then she looked down at the plaza's asphalt. Her dress and the matching rose ribbon that highlighted her raven hair, all of it bright under the sun... It was her indeed. With her hair tightly styled in a high arrangement that said she was of a noble birth and nothing bad could happen to her. She was now all-powerful, protected by the White army and one word from her would send me in front of a fire squad.

Once the Major-General had joined the three other generals sitting on the court, Admiral Alexander Kolchak spoke, his voice filling the air:

"Here stand in front of you, Generals of the Court, thirteen men who have committed all sorts of acts on the person of Baroness Tamara von Greifswald Palhen. They treated her like a... Well, you know what sort of things they did. So here they stand in front of you, to be judged and be sentenced as they deserve to!"

The Admiral's gaze met mine and I heard his voice like in a dream: "You, Captain, you will step forward and plead in their defense!"

Why me?!

I almost said it aloud! But I did step forward and saw the terror in each of these thirteen boys. They were all farm boys who had committed the crime of being at the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong person. Since there were no negroes in this army to bear our collective blame, the boys had to be white.

"Walk faster, Captain! From the way you hesitate, I can see you seem surprised to be wearing those shoulder pads! I know a low-birth man when I see one! Yes, this will be neat, very neat indeed to have those peasants being defended by one of their own! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

The officers all started to laugh at me, filling me with rage! I swear to God I was tempted to draw my revolver and shoot the Admiral. He sat about fifteen yards away. Point-blank range for me. It would have been quick and easy. But I had one hope that kept me from sacrificing myself; the hope of seeing my wife again. So I stood tall and proud, all six feet of me, and said nothing. My gaze perchance met the Countess's and there I saw it. Love. In her eyes.

I became transfixed, as if turned to stone! How could she still be in love with me?

The Admiral pulled me out of my reverie: "Do the pigs in your farm have eaten your tongue, Captain? Speak up! How do you plead, guilty or not guilty?"

"Please, Sir!" the Major-General said in his Czech accent. "Please, Sir, do not mock this officer! I heard much praise about him and his skill with his side-arm! This is Ivan Sidorov, the very man who represented Russia in the Olympic Games in Paris! He's in one of my light companies."

"Not guilty, Sir! I say they are not guilty!" I bellowed, emboldened by the Bohemian Count's words spoken in my support. Tamara would suddenly speak up and this would be my last moment. This pleading of mine would be my swan's song.

"Not guilty! How insolent!" the Admiral sneered. "All right! Proceed!"

The Major leading the prosecution was clearly a born aristocrat who cast me a stare filled with contempt, although he was a great deal younger than myself. Perhaps thirty years old, and owing his rank to his birth and nothing else. He had no doubt spent the Great War in palaces, possibly a young officer near General Tatischev. And I was now serving in the army fighting to perpetuate such injustice where the born man was usually higher than the man of merit! Serving under an Admiral who openly mocked me because of my own birth.

"The case is very clear, Generals of the Court!" the young Major said, his finger pointing at the thirteen men. "They have defiled the person of a Baroness. A Baroness! With their filthy hands! And I say they must hang!"

Those words were said after some simple facts had been established. Those men had gone to a brothel where the old hag owning the premises had referred them to a girl named the Gypsy, saying she could tell their fortune and do a great many other things.

"She didn't cost all that much, Sir!" pleaded one of the boys. "She was cheap and how could we have possibly know she was noble?"

"Shut up!" the Major replied. "Silence! Don't you speak about the Baroness using the word cheap! I say you must hang! All thirteen of you!"

"But this ain't our fault! We went to the brothel and bought a girl! Where's the crime?" said another boy.

"Shut up!"

"And she did behave like a strumpet!"

"She was clearly used to get treated like this, Sir! She even said she was enjoying it and..."

"Shut up! Shut up!" the Major shouted, his face white with rage.

"Order! Order!" the Admiral bellowed. "Now, lets hear what our peasant Captain has to say for his peasant boys!"

I pretended not having heard and spoke my plea:

"Generals of the Court, these men stand before you for a crime that has not been said aloud, so I'll say it. Rape. The prosecution wants to hang them for rape, isn't it right, Major? (The young Major nodded.) Well, they did not commit rape!"

"What?!" the Major ejaculated along with the Admiral himself and all generals except the Czech Major-General and the one Colonel.

"No rape was committed," I went on. "There was no rape because these men have paid money, rubles, for the services of a girl known as the Gypsy. They bought the services of a prostitute so they could, uh, enjoy her services for the night. And they did not know who she was."

"So you think they should be set free?!" the Major blurted out, looking at me with a face stupid with contempt and bias.

"Yes, I think they should be freed right away! No crime was committed and a great many of us have done a lot worse since yesterday."

"But they must hang!" the Major spat out. "They Must Hang! They have gang-raped a Baroness, treated her like a whore! They must hang! And hang twice!"

"I forgive them!" said a girl. Tamara! It was her! What a beautiful voice she had! What a beautiful rape she made!

She came forward, looking like some Greek princess in an antique tragedy as she pleaded for boys who had debased her. "I forgive them! This wasn't them! These boys would be living a peaceful country life if it weren't for the war. They would be happy to live their country life under the quiet rule of nobles, if it weren't for the war! Free to dream under the sun! Free to smile at girls and take a wife to be happy with! No, they are not guilty. War! War is the guilty party."

"So, lady Baroness," the Major said, taking off his peak-cap as he spoke to Tamara, "so you say we must let them go free?!"

"I didn't say that!" the tragic princess replied. Oh, how noble she looked as she stood there, majestic and almost looking tall in spite of her small size; the rose of her dress so bright under the sun that she looked like a radiant goddess of Spring!

"I didn't say that," she said, her voice loud and profound. "I say it would be such a pity to execute such handsome boys! Killing them would make the world a less happy place; it would leave widows or perhaps future brides who would remain without a husband. These boys are so full of life! Let them live! Yes, yes, let them live so they can f... so they can fight again for our mother Russia! Seeing them flogged will be satisfaction enough for me and for the memory of my departed father, bless his soul!"

"A flogging! That's a wonderful idea!" said one of the generals of the court, a cackling old man who clearly ate a bit too much.

"Yes, a good old flogging using a knout!" the one Colonel ejaculated, his thin flegmatic face like a flame of sunlit skin under his cast-behind peak-cap.

"Yeah, let's give them a few lashes and let's have lunch! With vodka, and girls!" added the Czech Major-General while winking at me.

"Twelve lashes of knout!" Tamara suddenly exploded, filling the sky with her heated voice, and she was sweating with excitement oozing out of her eyes. "Twelve! One for each man who... who bought me and thirteen cannot be given, for this would bring ill-luck."

***

The case was settled for twelve lashes for each man. To be given by thirteen men chosen by the Admiral himself for their brawn and the strength in their arms. Admiral Alexander Kolchak was far from pleased, so he meant for each man to feel the knout as deep and hard in his skin as possible. Indeed, the knouts turned out to be special models with the usual tongue of rawhide leather at the end of a rod, but these whipping tongues were studded with iron! Each lash would tear some skin clean off! Twelve suddenly became heavier.

The sentence was carried out about noon. All boys were stripped naked. I could tell the Baroness was taking delight in what she was seeing. The Countess was positively horrified, albeit she stoically remained at the side of Tamara.

Thousands of Czechs were assembled and I was there too. Happy to be standing in the fourth or fifth row and safe enough from the Countess, who could turn against me in spite of her feelings. I was scared of those knouts! But I was fascinated by the Baroness! Her lithe figure looked so powerful! Like a lovely little troubling Queen on a chess-board when the wind of the battle just turned in her favour.

And I noticed something very peculiar at the hem of her long rose dress. Her feet. She was barefoot on this sand! Barefoot near that place where scaffolds had been hastily erected for the flogging. Many men must have noticed. The barefoot Baroness seemed to fill the air with a savage will to go and grab her and have a long gang-fuck inside her! In broad daylight. Every man cheered as the first knout lash fell on bare skin!

The men screamed pitifully, shocked by how painful this one lash was. Given by a strongly built man with all his might.

This was just one lash.

Eleven more followed. Each one taking more skin and blood off the men's backs.

Tamara nodded along with each new lash, her face tilted down as she looked at the flogging with a slight smile. Her bare feet on the warm sand, a dignified figure in her long dress, the noble maiden was clearly enjoying every second of the thirteen men's ordeal. While the Countess stood by her side, her face white under her wide-brim straw-pale hat. The sun made the blood shine like ruby at each strike from the knout.

The place was filled with the men's screams. The Admiral smiled, his face growing more feral with each knout strike.

Once the ordeal was over, the boys were dragged away and into a house where they were treated. The crowd dispersed. The Admiral took the Countess and the Baroness to a lunch party to which I was clearly not invited.

I stood there, alone, transfixed as I watched the desert spot where the troubling Baroness had stood barefoot. I wanted so much to fuck her! But she was now out of my reach.

An iron grip imprisoned my right wrist, then the other as I became aware that my Nagant was pulled out of its holster. Then one painful punch cut my breath and my legs collapsed under me.

Mahmoud stood above me, smiling. Another Turk also grinned as he showed me the Nagant he had just taken from me, yet again. Standing between the two other Turks, Nadja smiled, smug in her sense of safety, flaunting the shapes of her bosom in her saffron dress. The sunny apparition of a witch who always caught me off-guard.

***

I was taken to a small wood away from the outskirts of Yekaterinburg. I knew what was to follow. Nadja would once more ride on top of me while keeping her garments on. But she had other plans.

Mahmoud was holding a knout!

I began to panic when the Turks bared my torso and tied me to a sturdy birch. I was to be flogged! With an iron-studded knout.

Nadja spoke, or rather snarled:

"So you think you can mock me in public and get away with it? Mahmoud! Strike!"

The pain was unimaginable when the first strike fell! I screamed the loudest I had ever screamed. Birds flew away. The warmth on my back told me I was already profusely bleeding. The second strike fell, even worse! Like a thong of red-hot iron!

"I will show you what it costs to slight me! Change up with Mustafa! A fresh arm to strike harder... Now Mustafa, strike!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

After the fourth or fifth lash, the Turk stopped. It was only to give the bloody knout to the third eunuch. There was movement around me. A rifle shot tore the air.

"Mahmoud! Nooo!"

Nadja was kneeling down on Mahmoud's fallen figure, crying as she covered his face with kisses. Other shots rang through the air and not one of the three other eunuchs was missed. They each fell on the bright green ferns, their colourful Ottoman costumes making them look like fantastic lead soldiers that had met their fall.

Then, all of a sudden, there was a voice I knew. The Czech Major-General! Soldiers presently filled the place. Mahmoud died while Nadja was grabbed and forced to stand by a pair of tall grinning soldiers from the light company. I knew them! Anton and Oleg, both of whom who hated the Colonel's daughter, like two thirds of the regiment.

"At last! We caught you!" the General said. While I was quickly untied and given some ointment for my wounds, I saw the General approach Nadja, with the handsome First Lieutenant standing by and smiling, his trousers tensed by an erection and his eyes filled with mischief.

"It was a girl who said the Captain was in trouble here," said one soldier. "Where is she now?"

"Yes, a girl saved him," said another Czech. "I could swear it was Anastasia Romanova, I've seen her once. But how is this possible? The Admiral thinks that the Czar was murdered with his entire family. They even killed the pet dogs!"

Anastasia? Dead?! And she...

A sharp gun-shot tore the air.

The General had just forced-kissed Nadja, whose arms were restrained between soldiers as she screamed with rage. The General was groping one of her breasts through her dress when a second shot quickly followed the first one and he fell like a sack of potatoes, blood on his face.

"Sniper! Take cover!" the Lieutenant ordered.

"Where do you think you're going, bitch!" a Sergeant barked as he grabbed Nadja as she tried to run away. He lifted her and was almost behind a tree when a third shot rang and he fell. I saw that the bullet had gone through his head. So the story was true! Nadja did have a sniper watching over her!

"Give me my pistol and give me cover! I saw where the shots are coming from!" I said. I was going to get revenge!

Taking a precise note of that tall tree where the sniper was hidden, I took off and ran into the forest, shirtless with my bleeding back hurting me, but I was going to get this son of a bitch! He had killed the General, and now it would be a hanging matter for Nadja as accessory. If he was a sniper worth his salt, he'd have to climb back down that tree and either run away or take a new position. Shots rang through the air. The soldiers were giving me a good covering fire as I ran in a sweeping arc through the woods. If I was fast enough, I'd catch him at the foot of that tree!

Indeed! I was lucky enough to see his small figure still climbing down that tall tree with a scoped rifle strapped on his shoulder. He was, sobbing?! Of course he was! His mistress was taken and there was nothing he could do! Nothing except run to avoid being captured himself.

I caught him by the ass and then took him by the waist and hurled him off that tree trunk with a strength that was multiplied by the rush of this life-or-death situation. This ass was no man's ass!

As I kicked her in the side, there was a sharp groan that could only come from a girl! The sniper was a she! Indeed, the fall of her soft cap set free a luxuriant profusion of long black hair.

Soon after, I was pushing her in front of me, her arms tied up behind her while I kept pushing her through the wood and picking her up every time she fell. Her scoped rifle in my hand as the all-important murder weapon for her trial.

Two men had been shot dead. A Sergeant, and the Major-General. So much for his dream of late-marrying a peasant girl in his native Bohemia.

The handsome Lieutenant stood where Nadja was sitting between soldiers; she was crying as she kept looking at Mahmoud's corpse. Two of the Turks had been bayoneted through the throat, no doubt after having been found still breathing.

"What do we do now, Sir? But what?!" he said as I emerged from a copse while pushing the captured sniper in front of me.

"Holy cow! She's a pretty thing!" a soldier exclaimed.

"We got a new fuck doll here! Look at her long black hair! Oh, God! The pleasure of stripping her out of this little khaki outfit! Ohh, Old Church! What a pretty little ass she got there!"

The little sniper wept pitifully as she was grabbed by a few soldiers who lifted her off the floor and laughed as she tried to run, her boots meeting nothing but thin air was she began to cry and beg the men to please let her go!

"I know what we'll do, Lieutenant! We rape both girls and take them to the Admiral for another court martial! But let's have our fun first!"

As I spoke, I went to Nadja and ordered the soldiers to make her stand in front of me. The little sniper cried out as men assaulted her uniform, and soon the sun rays fell on the fantastic display of her breasts! They were small, but looked pleasingly full on her small frame; her nipples of a radiant brown waiting to be sucked. Her despaired screams filled the air as she was promptly forced down until she lay on her stomach and her trousers were promptly pulled down her thighs, and so we all saw how soft and white her butt-cheeks were!

"Let her watch as the fun begins!" I ordered, pointing at Nadja. A first soldier was already on top of the sniper, who yelped when the penetration occurred.

After a quick, grunting rape, the soldier relieved himself inside the sobbing girl and another man, this one a sturdy Corporal, took over.

"You will get it deep in the ass! You Will Regret killing our General! No escape--AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh yeah! Deep! Deep!"

"NAA AAAAAYYYAAAAAAAAeeeAAAANNNHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" shrieked the poor girl!

"Shut up and do your job!" the Corporal snarled between his teeth as he brutally entered her rectum and the girl kept wailing and screaming as her anus was properly ravaged.

Filled with lust, I turned to Nadja and kissed her by force! With rage and with the satisfaction of knowing she was now helpless and I was finally going to see her naked! My back still hurt, but it was a trifle next to the gigantic load I was going to give this witch! The sniper's anal whimpers were a fitting background for the act as I began to tear her saffron dress and had the joy of hearing her scream and protest. AT LAST!

"Nooooo! No, please! Sidorov! Noooo... I'm so sorry! So sorry! But noooo! Nnooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

I made short work of her dress-top while the pair of grinning soldiers held her arms. There was nothing she could do! Her corset was a fancy model of pale beige fabric. I heard her plaintive wail as I strongly pressed her sides and out of the hooks went the busks! The corset was opened and discarded.

The last thin layer of her petticoat did not stand a chance. One loud tearing sound and a scream later, Nadja's breasts were looking at me.

"At last!" I uttered as I drank all the light from Nadja's breasts! I loved how the forest light fell on them! Loved how her disarrayed hair fell on her shoulders! Loved how she begged and pleaded! Loved the humiliation for her! Fear was in her eyes now!

Everything slowed down like in a dream when my kisses met her pale nipples and my tongue took possession of her areolas. The joy I felt when I pressed her tits in my hands, while watching the panic in her eyes, could only be conjectured. Nearby, a soldier was raping the sniper as she lay naked and spread-eagled, and her voice was now subdued in a rhythmic flow of whimpers.

Most of the men, including the Lieutenant, were waiting for their turn to rape the Colonel's daughter. They all knew how she had persecuted me and knew I deserved to be first with the full benefit of added time.

Soldiers helped me in getting rid of all remaining garments until Nadja lay Eve-naked on the forest ground, the triangle of her hairy cunt an open invitation as I put a finger inside her, then the middle finger and enjoyed the pleasure and freedom of doing all I pleased with her.

"Nooo noo this cannot be happening!" Nadja cried out. "This cannot be happening!"

"Oh, but it sure is!" I replied as I rolled her around and began to kiss her butt! It was quite a round of fun to lick this vast plain of silky skin. I couldn't forget the way she stood in front of the men during the flogging, knowing and enjoying the fact that so many men secretly wanted to fuck her.

Not wanting to keep the Lieutenant and the dozen men waiting, I had her kept on all fours and feverishly freed my hard cock!

"Now Nadja! Now!" I shouted as I sank inside her! Deep and hard! She screamed in pain. I raped her like a savage! Ignoring her scream! Enjoying her distress! Nothing existed now except my hands on her waist and the urgent collisions against her curves! It was soon over. Ooh! The pleasure of my wobbly legs hit hard and left me breathless as ropes upon ropes were angrily spewed out inside her. Deep!

Then came the unfathomable pleasure of watching the Lieutenant enjoy her in the same way, with short nervous strokes as her head fell down on the ground and she took the rest of his fury on her knees and elbows, her protruding buttocks soon wet with vodka as the soldiers mocked her. After the explosion, the Lieutenant gave way for a Corporal, who took his pleasure just as fiercely and he would be followed by seven or eight more men, some of whom gave Nadja the opportunity to deeply understand the pain of being sodomized near her dead eunuchs.

Soon enough, all the men had spent their loads inside Nadja or her sniper. We wanted more! Most of us were already hard again.

The little sniper, with the face of a tomboy, was heavenly beautiful in the nude. There was something that the light made in her pale skin, something in her boyish ass that made a man obsessed with the idea of fucking her and giving her a lot of sperm, all of it nicely completed by that long black hair that had fallen like a dark cascade of death when her soft cap had fallen. She had killed the General and was already as good as dead; so we had to give her a really nice gang-rape since this would be her last fuck.

I found myself kneeling behind her and entering her pussy! I never liked anal rape, so I went at it inside her, hard and good; and since I had already fertilized Nadja, I lasted much longer this time around, which gave me a lot more time to enjoy each new collision against her boyish butt, while enjoying the scent from her ravaged cunt as she seemed to almost enjoy the coitus, from the way she kept quietly whimpering. Submissive. It suddenly struck me that she was young, really young. About as young as Nastya herself was.

And I began to cry as I remembered what the soldiers had said earlier; a girl who was perhaps Nastya had told them where I was before vanishing; and this was how I was saved from a devastating flogging. My back was screaming in burning pain as I kept crying, knowing that Nastya was probably dead. I no longer felt in the mood for sex, but I passed my edge! As I held those boyish buttocks and got hypnotized by the sniper's butt-crack, I erupted out of control in long, delightfully strong ropes of semen!

Three or four more men were waiting their turn to punish the sniper who had shot the General and their Sergeant. Her whimpers turned into frantic groans as the first man raped her ass with unrestrained hatred, while the others encouraged him and promised her that it would get even worse when they'd be owning her. Her shit was going to be hurt bad!

So I was saved by a girl who then vanished. How? Why? There was no explanation.

The reality was, Nadja was finally caught at her own game. I sipped vodka out of a flask as I watched her being enjoyed in different positions, by soldiers who hated her and truly enjoyed the punishment they gave her. I especially loved the part where they lifted her clean off the ground and kept her like a graceful spread-eagled figure between them as they ravaged her again, again and again! With each stroke, her nipples seemed elevated in a dance for the sun whose light bathed the whole scene happening in a clearing, witnessed by silent trees. On whose trunks the satisfied roars and grunts echoed as each next man took his bliss inside Nadja.

Nobody dared take her mouth out of fear she would bite. The fear was even stronger when it came to the naked sniper; she was quite adorable and it was hard to remember that such a pretty brunette with childish-small hands could give death.

I'll confess that at one point, my lust ran away with me to the point where I covered the sniper's feet with slobber, where she was kept on all fours, before masturbating like a grunting lunatic until I gave a pungent load to these dainty feet, totally forgetting what she was as I gave a hot coating of gloss to her tiny heels while going madly obsessed by her earth-dirty soles; such tenderness of skin in a killer! I then madly caressed her butt with both hands, caressing her small curves while landing kisses upon kisses on this small vastness of silky skin. She was as white as death!

Once the scheming witch and her sniper were properly filled up with our sperm, once I had pressed Nadja's breasts until she shrieked out of pain, when the sky would soon turn ablaze with sunset lights, I sealed Nadja's fate.

"We will kill her right here and bring in the sniper!" I suddenly ordered. She shrieked.

"But, Sir, she's the Colonel's daughter!" the Lieutenant objected.

"And this is why we have to kill her! Oh, keep them quiet, will you? We have to kill her and say it was enemy snipers who killed her and the General, and we captured this one! It's the only way to save our necks!"

The Lieutenant and the men knew I was right. The Sergeant who had been shot was well-liked. And all these soldiers hated her. One of them handed me the sniper's rifle while others tied Nadja by her ankles with her wrists tied up behind her.

She screamed and the naked sniper shrieked, "Nadjaa!" when I quietly pressed the trigger and gave Nadja a quick death on her knees. She fell naked amid her rapists. She died while looking at the four dead Turks.

I shot her between the eyes from ten yards, because we would wash her body and get her corpse dressed again, right down to the shoes on her feet, so no one would be puzzled by the absence of blood on her dress. This would be a rare case of head shot, and it would raise no question since the General had been shot through the head as well.

"All this thanks to that girl who vanished! I tell you, Oleg, this was Grand Duchess Anastasia! I saw her once. I always thought she was pretty."

"This can't be! She's dead, Anton! Dead! The Admiral said so!"