I raced into the parlor just as Papa was being murdered.
It was a weekday afternoon in Fall, 1919.
I was twelve years old.
My family lived then in a modest-sized house in the suburbs of Berlin.
My father was the manager of a transport company, which specialized in trucking farm produce into the city.
Times were terrible, but people still had to eat. My family was in reduced circumstances, compared to how prosperous we had been before the War.
The same could be said for all Germany.
Young as I was, the defeat of the Fatherland had not affected me with the same crushing humiliation it inflicted on the adults.
Even the shameful terms of surrender, even the unrest at home that blossomed in the wake of defeat, had left me untouched.
Until that cold, rainy afternoon...
That day, I was home. Momma had kept me there, instead of sending me to shool. I had not been to schoool for a week.
There was much unrest in the city, which had spread into our district.
There were demonstrations for and against the government-foodlines-pickets-hungry ex-soldiers, only recently mustered out of the Army.
Daily, the Reds clashed with the Right.
Street battles were the order of the day. Anarchy ruled in Berlin.
Momma swore that it was unsafe for even a young girl to go out on the streets now, while the disorder raged.
Trouble had not ignored my father or his company.
There was much strife there. The Reds wanted the truck drivers to be unionized, a union which they would control.
There had been some ugly incidents at the business - threats, beatings, sobotage of company property, vandalism.
Papa tried to shield us, his family, from the worst of it.
He did not tell us that he had been threatened and warned to get in line and stop obstruction the Reds in their takeover bid.
But we were soon to discover that for ourselved...
That afternoon, I was home, playing with my dolls in my room.
My cozy room was on the second floor, and looked out over the garden.
It was chilly in the house. Coal was scarce and expensive, and even firewood came dearly, so we used it as little as possible.
I wore a long-sleeved dress with a floral print design, a thick wool sweater over that, which buttoned down the front.
I wore woolen knee stockings and shoes.
Rain patted against the window pane, blurring the view.
Gusts of wind rattled the window in its casement.
My door was open, and out in the hall, I heard Matilda, our maid, humming.
She was a cheerful village girl, a robust peasant with light brown hair and a round smiling face and always hadd a kind word for me.
Momma was downstairs, in the kitchen, prepairing the evening meal!
Poor Momma!
With food so scarce, she would spend hours wandering from shop to shop, to find a few morsels to brighten up our dinner fare.
Today she was happy, though.
Papa was staying home today. Labor strife at the company had gotten so bad, the the firm had ceased operations for the week.
Starting the following week, they would empoloy a force of ex-soldiers to guard the garage and trucks and workers from the agitators.
Until they had been formed up, it was decided to close down the company for the short time until the soldiers came on duty.
So, Papa was downstairs, in the parlor, thumbing through a worn copy of Hegel.
My brother, Gunnar, was not at home.
He belonged to a patriotic group of students organized at the boy's school he attended, and so was at a meeting that afternoon.
While I played with my dolls, I heard voices outside.
They were loud, for the blustery wind would have overpowered all conversation at a normal volume.
I frowned.
The voices semed to come from outside, below my window.
Outsiders were not allowed in the back yard.
We had a little vegetable garden there, and, while most of the vegetables had already been harvested, a few remained.
Momma and Matilda jealously guarded those vegetables, and they had communicated their anxiety to me.
I put my dolly down and went to the window.
It was hard to see, with rainwater running down the glass, blurring it.
But I saw three figures in the yard.
I rubbed the window and looked closer.
The three figures had dark coats on, and hats pulled low over their foreheads. They came up to the back porch.
I heard their geet trampling on the porch as they approached the back door.
They didn't see me.
Then they were hidden from my view, from where my window was.
I shrugged, assuming they were just some poor men looking for odd jobs.
There were so many poor and homeless men wandering Germany in those days!
I turned form the window and went back to my dolly, when-
There was the sound of breaking glass.
I wasn't quite sure what I had heard.
I started back to the window.
From below, came a crash!
Then, a scream!
From the kitchen - it was Momma!
The scream was suddenly choked off.
Heavy footsteps pounded inside the house.
I jumped up and ran to the door, with skirts flying.
There were crasing noises and violent oaths on the ground floor.
It sounded like a herd of cattle were loose in the house!
Angry, hateful voices rang up the stairwell as I raced into the hall.
Matilda was at the opposite end of the hall.
She stood frozen in the doorframe, terrified.
More shouts came from down below.
I ran for the stairs.
"Sieglinde, no!" Matilda cried, her hand outflung towards me.
But, before she started moving, I was already hurrying down the stairs.
My feet flew, clattering on the carpeted steps. I held the handrail for balance.
I hit one landing then ran down the next flight of stairs.
They I was in the front hall, where the grandfather clock stood.
The invaders had broken in through the back door.
There was a groaning cry of fear - Papa!
Matilda came down the stairs, her face contorted with fear.
The parlor was located just off the front hall. It had two entrances, this one, and one in the rear of the room.
Closing off the parlor were two solid wooden sliding doors.
My palms pressed them and I threw the doors open, so that they slid back on their rollers, opening into the room.
What a scene I then saw!
Three men stood in the room, looming over Papa!
Never, never will I forget a single detail of that scene!
It is burned foreverinto my memory.
Papa sat - was hel - in his easy chair.
He had been reading, and his book lay on the floor, open.
A man stood on either side of him, while a third man faced him, his back to me.
I had interrupted them in the act.
Tehy were not men, but beasts!
They were grimy, unshaven, unkempt, vicious. Rainwater dripped from their coats and hats, spattering on the carpet.
Papa's arms were held stretched out horizontally form his sides, so that he looked like he was being crucified.
Each of the assasssins 0 for such teyt were - clutched one of Papa's wrists, holding him in the chair, forcing him forward.
Papa was a big man but no real fighter. Still, he struggled madly.
And to no avial.
His galsses were broken, their wire frames sitll somehow hanging on his face, twisted out of shape, one lens shattered.
Blood blaszed on his fearful face.
The two men stood on either side, holding him for the slaughter.
One man was tall and thin, with a weasel face.
The secojd was pudgy and moonfaced, with thick lips.
They both wore gloves... an ominous detail.
The third man stood with his back to me, so at first I could not see his face.
He wore gloves, too.
In his gloved right hand, he held a pistol.
"Too bad you had to be stupid!" he snarled. "Too bad for you!"
He raised the pistol -
Then the two men, and Papa, all of whom faced me, saw me.
"Sieglinde!" Papa shouted. "Run! Run for your life!"
Now Maltilda was right behind me.
She gave a small stifled shriek and clutched me.
The third man - the gunman -glanced over his shoulder at the two of us.
He had a lean wolfish face and hooded snakelike eyes.
He was a cool-nerved one, all right!
He took us in with one sweeping glance.
He saw only two defenseless females, a young woman and a girl.
His lips quirked in a smile, as he resumed his task.
He said to Papa:
"Pity you won't be able to see what we're going to do to them!"
Then he pressed the pistol muzzle to Papa's head.
Papa's shout was drowned out by the roar of the blast.
Even though his body was still held in place by the assassins, his head was thrown back, and he jerked in his chair.
A red burst of dripping color exploded on the wall behind him.
I screamed.
The fat assassin said, "Malenkoff, whtat now?!"
Malenkoff was the pistol-wielding killer.
Malenkoff siad, "Don't let them escape, fools!"
Matilda tore at the bolts and locks securing the front door shut.
I was too numb to do anything but stand there and scream.
The thin killer was the quickest and he raced right by me.
He slammed into me with his side and sent me sprawling to the floor.
The fat gunman nearly trampled me as he followed behind him.
Matilda fumbled open the last lock and tore open the door.
I saw the outside world, the front lawn, the pouring rain coming in gusts.
Matilda started forward -
The thin killer caught her up by the scruff of the neck.
Shrieking Matilda was jerked backward, off her feet, and into the house.
She was brutally thrown to the floor.
"Help- " she began.
The thin man kicked her in the belly.
Matilda doubled over, white-faced, sucking for breath, clutching herself.
I was still shrieking.
"Shut that squalling brat up!" Malenkoff snarled.
I was caught up from behind by the fat man, who wrappped me in a bearhug.
His one arm pinned both my arms to my side.
He squeezed the breath out of me, and covered my mouth with his hand.
He held me tightly, lifting my feet from the floor.
Malenkoff siad, "Stanfl -- did anyone see?!"
"I don't know, comrade!"
"Then look, idiot!"
Stanfl clutched the doorframe while thrusting his head outside.
The houses in our neighborhood were spaced wide apart, with shrubs and trees planted bwtween them for privacy.
And there was no one on the street at that time, in the downpour.
Stanfl jumped back inside and slammed the door shut.
"Nobody took notice, comrade!"
"Good! Lock the door!"
Stanfl did as his master bid him.
"Go check on the woman," Malenkoff said.
"I hit her pretty hard," Putzi said.
From where I stood - was held -- in the hallway, I could see sown the end of it, into the kitchen.
In there, I saw a pair of legs stretched out on the floor - all I could see of Momma in the position in which she sprawled.
Stanfl went into the kitchen and leaned over her.
He looked up.
"Head's crushed," he said. "She's dead!"
Malenkoff smiled.
Stanfl came back, spoke harshly to the fat man:
"Putzi, you idiot, you killed her!"
So what?" Putzi shrugged. "That's what we're here for, isn't it? It's just one less reactionary bourgois bitch!"
"She was a damned goodlooking bourgois bitch, until you smashed her head! We could always have killed her after!"
"After what?!"
Stanfl groaned. "After we fucked her, you foool!"
"So wat?" Putzi said. "We still have her!"
He nudged the gasping, groaning, weakened Matilda in the side.
Pained as she was, Matilda was not so far gone that she did not know what the tormentors had planned for her.
Stanfl looked down at Matilda.
"Yes, she's a comely slut!"
"Hired handmaiden of the oppressors keeping the workers down!" Putzi said.
"She's a juicy one, too..."
Matilda was buxom, quite pleasingly plump, with light brown hair framing a round friendly pink face.
Now, that face was twisted with fear and pain.
Malenkoff said, "I must correct you, comrades."
His two stooges listened intently to their master.
Malenkoff looked at me through those heavy-lidded eyes of his.
My hysteria ebbed, replaced by chilling fear.
Malenkoff said, "You counted wrong, comrades. We have not one slut of the ruling class, but two!"
Stanfl looked surprised. "You mean...?"
"the daughter, yes," Malenkoff said.
"She seems a bit young, comrade," Stanfl said doubtfully.
"Old enough... comrade."
The man called Putzi said, "Let's see what she's got!"
He put his plump hands on my breast and squeezed them through my dress.
At this time, I was only recently pubescent...more girl than woman.
My breast were small, budding. I had a skinny, boyish figure, only barely beginning to soften and round out.
My immature charms, such as they were, would hardly have attracted any normal, redblooded man - I was little more than a child.
But to such men as these, my youth only increases their excitement.
Putzi squeewzed and kneaded my breast.
He held me up, so that my feet were off the floor, kicking and flailing.
"She's ready enough!" Putzi announced.
Stanfl said, "Do you think we dare remain?"
"Yes, comrade," Malenkoff said, "yes, indeed. After all, our goal is to terrorize and overthrow the upper class.
"Our mission is not achieved because we have liquidated on enemy of the workers. That, comrades, is a drop in the bucket!
"No, we must overthrow the entire class! And how do we do that?
"With terror, comrade, with terror!"
"We will show the upper classes that their wives and sweethearts and daughters are not exempt fromdegradation and defilement.
"The master class causes the women of the workers and the poor to become prostitutes, to sell themselves for a miserable crust of bread.
"Therefore, part of our mission is to do the same to them!"
Putzi said, "Let's do it, then!"
"Where?!" Stanfl asked.
"In there," Malenkoff said.
He pointed at the parlor room where Papa lay dead.
"In there?" Putzi asked.
"Not getting soft, are you, comrade?"
"Soft? Hah! On the contrary -- I'm getting hard!"
He rubbed his crotch against my backside.
Something long and hard and throbbing pressed my bottom.
"Bring both bitches into there!" Malenkoff commanded.
And so they did.
Stanfl bent over Matilda, who still gasped weakly for breath.
"No," she murmured, in a moaning whisper.
Stanfl hooked his hands under her arms and dragged her into the parlor.
Putzi carried me inside.
I was hysterical at the sight of poor Papa.
The bullet had not left much of the top of his head intact.
Blood soaked the carpet, and Malenkoff and us dragged to the other side of the room.
Matilda lay on the floor. on her back.
"Well, comrade, what are you waiting for?"
Malenkoff taunted.
"Nothing!"
Stanfl rolled Matilda on her back.
Her face was pale white, covered with cold sweat. Her eyes were wild.
She tried to shriek but lacked the breath.
Matilda wore a black short-sleeved dress uniform with a white apron. A floppy maid's cap covered her head.
She was a big, robust peasant girl, big-boned and buxum.
Stanfl licked his lips as he reache d for her with both hands.
He put his hands on her big breasts and viciously squeezed them.
He tore at her clothes.
Moaning, she tried to fend him off, but was too weak to put up a fight.
There was a tearing sound as the front of her maid's univorm shredded.
Stanfl tore it open, down her center.
He ripped it open to the waist, tearing at it like an animal.
Matilda's big bgreasts were bared.
They were oversized white globes with fat pink nipples.
The sight of them, in thast context. profoundly shocked me.
Putzi rubbed his stiff penis harder against my backside.
I was too frightened for Matilda to take much notice.
Shock had come over me, leaving me dazed and lost.
Seeing Matilda's bared trembling breasts, Stanfl let out a great roar and fell on top of her, stretching out on her the floor.
In the struggle, his hat fell off and rolled across the floor.
Matilda beat at him with her hands.
But she was still so weak that her defense did little more than excite hime.
He took hold of her hands and pinned them down to the floor.
He crouched on top of her, straddling her plump hips.
Her legs, clad in black stockings, kicked and thrashed.
He took hold of her breasts in both hands and viciously squeezed them.
Matilda gurgledd as her nipples were pulled and pinched.
Stanfl shoved his harrd cruel face down against her breasts.
Terrible animal noises came from him as he licked and bit the breasts.
Matilda shrieked when he bit her nipple.
When the nipple finally came freee from his mouth, it was angry and swollen.
He rose up, so he could lift her skirt avbove her waist, along with her petticoats.,
He tore off her bloomers, splitting them at the seams.
She was a bigh gril, with wide hips and thick thighs, meaty.
Now, shw as bared.
She had a thick patch of dard brown hair on her fattish pubis.
Her legs kicked the loor.
Stanfl fumbled with the buttons of his trousers.
He got them open and pulled them down.
His penis was a stiffly erect club of flesh.
Matilda gave a little squeal when she saw it.
She tried to jam her legs closed.
Stanfl jammed his bony knee between her thighs, prying them open.
He knelt between them, so she could not close them.
Imminent violation forced Matilda to new strength.
She struck Stanfl in the face.
"Bitch!"
He cracked her face with a vicious backhand.
Dazed, moaning, bleeding at the mouth, Matilda flopped on the floor.
Stanfl resumed the raping.
He spread her legs and crouched over her.
Reaching under his lhips, he took hold of his member.
He pressed it head against her slitted pussy lips.
Matilda jerked and squealed when he shoved into her.
She was dry and tight and he could only get a part of his penis into her.
He jammed his hips forward, driving his member into her.
His buttocks were obscenely bare and tightly clenched.
Matilda sobbed and gasped as she was brutally penetrated.
Stanfl was all the way inside her.
He ravished her.
He was a wild beat in rut, slamming into her, pounding his rod into her.
Matilda's heavy legs were spread, with her stocking shredded and hanging along them in festoons of fabric.
Stanfl pounded into her, lurching and groaning.
Putzi was feeling me up all over.
He started rubbing my thin thighs through my dress.
He worked the dress up my legs as he rubbed them.
Then he stuck his hand under my dress.
I wore bloomers and he rubbed my pussy throught them.
"Let's get the clothes off this scrawny little chicken!" he laughed.
All the while, Stanfl continued to rape Matilda.
Now, Putzi tore at my clothes.
He yanked off my sweater and turned me around so that he could strip me.
I cried out as he ripped my dress down the front.
He tore it open from neck to waist, then peeled back the flaps of fabric.
He tore the dress right off me.
I wore a white shift with shoulder straps, which reached from neck to knees. Under the shift, I wore a pair of white lenen drawers.
The drawers or bloomers, reached from waist to knees.
Putzi pulled the shift down, breaking the shoulder straps.
I squealed when my little breast were exposed.
I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to cover myself, sobbing hysterically.
But Putzi was more interest in taking down my bloomers.
First, his pudgy, sausage-link fingers pressed my pussy through the drawers.
He was rough and hurt me.
Then he tore at the bloomers, ripping them down off my waist.
They fell off my hips when their drawsting broke.
They were tight at the knees, so then they fell, the knee openings stayed in place, while the rest of the bloomers dropped below them.
"Not much meat on this one," Putzi obscenely joked.
He started wqueezing and rubbng me all over.
He pinched nad squeezed my rounded bottom, manhandling it.
He reached between my legs --
"No," Malenkoff said.
Putzi, surprised by his interference, turned to look at him.
Malenkoff said, "Don't fuck her!"
"No? Whjy not?!"
"Rank had its privileges, comrade -- I'm saving that pleasure for myself!"
"Then, what am I to do?!"
She has a pretty mouth," Malenkoff said. "Use it!"
"Ah, now there's an idea!"
Putzi took hold of my thin wrists in his fat hands.
He squeezed them, forcing me down to my knees.
I cried and cried!
Even through my blurred tears, I saw the bulge of his groin.
"I've got a trat for you, little girl!" Putzi laughed.
When he laughed, his jowls and double chin quivered, and his face reddened.
He held both my wrists in one hand.
His free hand was used to fumble open his fly.
Malenkoff stood to the side, watching.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Stanfl stretched out on top of sobbing, moaning Matilda, humping her.
Putzi opened his fly and stuck his hand into it.
He gasped and pulled out his stiff penis.
Then I gasped!
He didn't bother to take down his pants... no, he just pulled the member out of shorts and through the flyhole.
It was fat, uncircumcised, a swollen tube of quivering flesh.
"No, please!" I sobbed.
"Don't cry, little girl -- it's good for you!"
He rubbed his thing against my face.
It was hot and huge and terrigying.
"Open up your mouth, little girl!"
I clamped my jaws shut, holding them so tightly that they trembled.
I wore my fair hair in a pair of braids running down either side of my face.
Scowling, Putzi took hold of both braids in one hands, and pulled.
Twisting my hiar by the roots, he made me cry out in pain.
He shoved his penis into my open yowling mouth.
The thing lunged forward, shoving deep in my mouth, stretching my lips.
It muffled my cry of fear.
I choked and gagged, my face reddening.
Putzi twisted my hair more, to get my atttention.
"If you bite me, you little slut, I'll snap your sily neck!"
Tears pured down my face. I shook form helpless sobbing.
"Suck on it, you little twat!" Putzi roared.
He pumped the penis back and forth in my mouth.
He never took it too far out, that it might become dislodged.
I coud hardly breathe. I gasped for air, sucking it around his shaft.
Each time his member throbbed, it vibrated in my mouth.
His swelling belly heaved as he shoved his thing in my mouth.
Saliva drooled down the sides of my mouth, wetting my chin.
Some spittle drooled down and spattered on my titties.
I was achingly aware of my denuded, shamed state, my nudity.
I had my mouth assaulted by that thrusting, punishing rod.
Putzi hissed at me to suck it.
He hurt me until I did suck him the way he wanted.
That was the most degrading of all -- being forced to be an accomplice in my own degradatiuon, by taking an active role.
My tongue was squashed but I rubbed his cock with it anyway.
My face was red and swollen from lack of breath.
Putzi made more and more horrible sounds as his lust mounted.
Groans, gasps, shivering sighs -- these were accompanied by a sting of muttered file oaths, whose vileness shocked my young ears.
He thrust as deep as he could, trying to choke me.
When I gagged, it made him laugh.
His penis burned hotter and hooter with each stroke in my mouth.
"Here's a - a treat -- treat for you, little girl!"
He thrust his penis the deepest yet.
Hs pudgy sweating palms pressed my cheeks and held my head in place.
His cock head was stuffed down my open throat.
He trembled.
His penis writhed on my tongue.
Suddenly, a mass of semen spurted down my throat!
You must realize that I was only a welve year old girl, raised in the most morally upright traditional German household.
I knew little of the facts of life until then. What I knew of sex was based on girlishe gossip, overheard conversation, and what little information I could glean from books.
Up to that day, I had never, never! never seen a nude adult male.
And had never even thought of such things as using a penis on a mouth, or any other sexual variation.
Also I was unaware of the link between sex and cruelty in many men.. and many women. But, I anticipate my narrative.
So, I was taken by ghastly surprise, at the climax of the rape of my mouth, when Putzi ejaculated down my throat.
I was so fearful, my nevers keyed up to piano-wire tautness, that for an instant I thought that the semen was blood or worse.
And the was Putzi looked -- crazed, shaking, gurgling - he seemed to be having a fit! His hands pressed my head so hard.
I choked and sputtered in a fit of coughing.
I fought to pull free, but he held my head too tightly for that.
"Swallow it! Swallow it, you little whore!"
I had to swallow it, or choke on the stuff.
I could not even see it, but I imagined the stuff to be of indescribable foulness, and was sure it would poison me.
CHAPTER TWO
Matilda had stopped fighting her assailant. Pained, dazed from his knockabout blows, numb with horror and mortal fear, she succumbed to apathy and just lay there still and unresisting while Stanfl raped her.
She looked like a zombie.
Her normally ruddy, healthy face was deathly pale. Her bulging eyes stared up at but did not see the ceiling.
She lay on her back with arms extended from her sides and legs spread.
Her dress was torn open so that her breasts were bared. Her dress and petticoats were torn and pulled up to her waist.
Her draweres were pulled down to her knees, where, in tatters, they continued to cling to her calves, along with the remains of her stockings.
Stanfl stretched out on top of her, pressing her down, squashing her to the carpet.
He was hatless, but still wore his dripping raincoat.
Under it, his pants were pulled down to his knees and his legs were pressed together between hers.
His buttocks were raised, outlined against the rear of the raincoat.
He lurched and maoned and lunged into Matilda.
After the initail entry and penetration, she had stopped struggling.
During the rest of the rape, she just lay there and let hime take what he wanted.
He could hardly get a murmur from her, no matter what he did.
Finally, his own climax neared.
He lunged into her, his belly slapping hers, pounding her into the carpet.
He shivered madly when he came.
Even when his rapist's penis spurted filthy, slimy seed into her, Matilda did little more than shudder with disgust.
Gasping, red-faced, Stanfl eventually pulled off of her.
Matilda lay flat on the floor, eyes open, body unmoving.
Her breasts bore black and blue bruises and raw, red bite marks.
The nipples had been twisted and sucked to purple swollen points.
Sweat covered her.
Her plump thighs were covered with scratch marks, and were parted.
Her bush was darkly damp with sweat, while her pussy was redly irritated from the rough raping. His semen glistened on her violated vulva.
Stanfl crouched over her, on hands and knees, like some burte beast.
His penis was a rod of flesh, long and stiff and sticky with come.
He was not done with Matilda yet...
Standfl glanced in our direction.
He saw that Putzi had just finished coming in my raped mouth, while Malenkoff stood looming over, staring with hooded eyes at every detail of the show.
Putzi's stiff penis still filled my mouth.
Stanfl asked, "You want to take a turn?"
Malenkoff, not taking his eyes off me, shook his head no.
"You keep her for a while longer," he said.
Putzi panted for breath like he might have an attack.
At last, he pulled his awful thing out of my mouth.
It popped free from my numb bruised lips spilling semen on them.
Even after the orgasm, the penis was a terrible thing to see.
Now it was semi-erect, twitching, swollen. His balls were almost purple.
"Putzi, you want to take a turn with this cunt?" Stanfl asked.
"No, not yet! Must rest a munute..."
Stanfl went back to what he was doing.
The tast of come was flat and oily in my mouth, on my tongue.
Making a face, I smacked my lips and tried to rid myself of the nauseating taste. I could not do so.
There was commotion as Stanfl took hold of Matilda's broad bare hips.
He turned her on her side,then rolled her on her belly.
She lay flat, with naked breasts cushioning her against the carpet, with arms stretched out in front of her, reaching.
She hit her head in her outstretched arms.
Most ironic detail of all was that her floppy charming maid's cap was still on.
Stanfl spread her legs and stood on his knees between them.
His penis was still hard, but he pulled it to firm tit up even more.
He let go of it - it jutted up from his hips at an angle - and then he clutched hold of Matilda's buttocks with both hands.
She was a big robust girl with a wide bottom and creamy rounded buttocks.
Stanfl kneaded and squeezed the buttocks.
Their smooth pink flesh oozed through his clutching clawlike fingers.
He pulled them open, spreading them to the sides.
Holding them spread, he leaned far forward, practically sticking his nose in her ass.
Then he put his hand between her buttocks.
He gingered her.
That finally got a reaction from Matilda.
She gave out a little squeal.
Stanfl raised his hand to his mouth and smeared spit on it. Then he smeared the spit in the crack of her ass.
"No, no!" Matilda moaned.
She craned her neck, lifting her head out of her arms.
She looked back over her sholder at Stanfl, who leered at her.
He took hold of his penis and shook it at her.
Then he smeared some more saliva on his penis.
Matilda tried dto rise.
He pushed her down. He squatted behind her, holding his dripping penis.
He spread her buttocks and shoved his penis between them.
Matilda writhed, squealing as the head was pressed to her little hold.
She pleaded for mercy.
"No! Not this! Please!"
Grunting, Stanfl just kept up the anal assault.
Matilda cried out when the cock head first poked her anus.
Stanfl held her in place, so she could not crawl away.
His face reddened and he breathed hard and broke into a sweat as he worked to force the member into her.
The red rod of his penis jammed between her creamy buttocks.
She screeched like she was beigh murdered.
That was the instant that his cock head pried open her anal ring, and pushed past it, to lodge the cock head in her rectum.
Matilda's face was contorted with pain, red and yowling.
She grunted and sobbed while the erection was worked deeper into her.
The long red cock, protruding from his hips, holding her down.
And now he had her pinned in place, too... pinned with a punishing penis.
He worked it up into her, now that he had jammed it head.
He used short, stabbing thrusts.
Each time he thrust into her, she screeched.
He grunted..
The long red cock protruding from his hips, between her buttocks, became less and less as it was forced up inside her.
Matilda's nails clawed the carpet as she was entered.
Finally the thing was all the way up inside her.
Stanfl lay stretched across her body, his cock in her ass.
He started humping her...
Malenkoff took hold of me by the shoulders.
"Get up."
I rose, standing on shaky legs. The room whirled around me.
If only I could have fainted! But the horror was too great for that.
Malenkoff steered me toward a couch.
My torn bloomers flapped against my feet as I stumbled forward.
I was too daxe to even bother covering my little breasts.
On the floor was Matilda, suffering anal rape from Stanfl.
I looked away -- unluckily, when I loooked away from the rape, It brought my gaze on poor dead Papa.
I shrieked and covered my face with my hand.
Malenkoff forced me down on the couch.
He kept one hand on me, to hold me in place.
His other hand took down his pants.
Putzi waddled over, jowls and jigglinmg penis quivering.
Malenkoff put his hand on his crotch.
He squeezed and rubbed himself until movement showed under the cloth.
He opened his pants and let them fall down his legs.
The front of his undreshorts was lifted by his penis.
I distinctly remeber that he wore white silk underdrawers.
That detail struck me, even then in my confusion, as odd.
How strange for a dedicated communist to wear a luxury like silk drawers!
But my time of shocked bemusement was not to last long.
No when Malenkoff already was pulling down his drawers.
His erection sprang up.
I flinched, moaning as I recoiled from that object of dred.
"What's the matter, you little slut?" he mocked. "Don't you like it? If it belonged to a fine general or prince or tycoon, you'd love it well enough!"
I sat numbly on the couch, on its edge, feet on the floor.
Malenkoff took hold of himself, squeezing the rod. When he squeezed it, its fat, bullet-shaped head got even fatter, and redder.
"Open your mouth, you little whore!"
He stepped out of his trousers.
He had a thin gaunt body andlong spindly legs which bristled with rough black hair. His penis was an oversized club rising pward.
He had a thick black bush -- it was there that his body hair was the thickest.
His penis was stiff, swollen, and glowed and awful red.
Its fleshy tip demandingly prodded my lips.
I opened my mouth.
He stuck his penis in it.
He pushed it down deep, until I gagged.
"Suck it well, little slut!"
He held my head and violated my mouth, raping it slowly, almost leisurely.
Putzi sat down next to me on the couch.
He sat so close, that his leg pressed my bare thigh.
He leaned over me, so that his big moon-shaped head was hanging over my shoulder.
His oily breath played over my flesh.
He kept on smacking his lips and cluck-clucking like a sympathetic old mother hen. It was all a pretense, of course.
He played with my breasts while Malenkoff worked his thing in my mouth.
My lips were numb, my tongue was sore, my mjaws ached.
From the floor came the ever-increasing groans and gasps of Stanfl and the moaning sobs of Matilda.
His assault on the citadel of her anus was nearly complete.
He pounded into her, thrusting wickedly.
He climaxed! He threw his hips forward, sinking his shaft as deep as he could.
This time he did not pull back, but kept his thing deep inside her.
He came.
Shuddering, sighing, he pumped a load of semen up into her ass.
This final degradation proved to be too much for Matilda.
Stanfl's choked cry of ecstasy gurgled down, as the peak experience ebbed.
His red sweaty face was dazed when he finally lifted it up.
There was a liquid gurgling sound.
Stanfl's face expressed puzzlement.
He lifted himself up some more , and started to pull out.
His angry red penis, sticky and shining, emerged into view.
The red column of the cock rose up frombwtween creamy buttocks.
But tose once-flawless white buttocks bore the marks of bruises left there by greedy gripping fingers that had manhandled them.
Stanfl pulled out.
Matilda gave out a cry, when the cock head popped loose from her.
Stanfl stood on his knees between her spread legs.
Suddenly, he cried out.
"What's wrong?!" asked Putzi.
"Why -- why, the whore's pissed herself!" Stanfl exclaimed in disgust.
It was true.
Matilda had lost control of her bladder and wet herself at the climax of the anal rapoe. That accounted for the gurgling sound heard earlier.
A dark damp stain spread from her pussy, soaking into the carpet, widening.
Stanfl lurched backward to avoid it.
"Pissed herself?!" Putzi roared with laughter. "That's a good one, that is! Probably the first bath you've had in ages, Stanfl!"
"I don't think it's so funny, you tub of guts!"
Malenkoff said, "Shut up."
They shut up... but Matilda kept one moaning.
Malenkoff pulled his penis out of my mouth.
I was surprised.
"Tha't enough of that," he said.
He told Putzi to move down, to the end of the couch.
Then I was stretched out on it, on my back.
My arms were pulled up so that ehey stretched alongside my head.
Putzi held my hands, pressing the backs of them against his lap, rubbing his groin with them as he held me in place.
Leaning over me, Malenkoff plucked off the last shredded remnants of my clothing.
I squirmed, violated by his lustful gaze.
I shut my legs and pressed them closed in a futile attempt to hide my pussy.
He took hold of my anlkes and dug his fingers into them.
I cried out, when he force dhte legs open, like he was pulling apart a wishbone.
He held my thin legs spread, while Putzi held my hands.
My pussy was nakedly exposed.
It was a narrow, thion-lipped pink slit, marginally covered with a thin fluffy sand-colored bush which was almost too small to be called a bush.
I squirmed when Malkenkoff's finger prodded sensitive pussy lips.
I knew extreme sexual terror.
He put his fingers on my pussy and opened the lips, flashing pink.
He held open the lips, while slippery pink membrances heaved and slid.
Putzi muttered a continuous stream of obscence remarks and "jests."
Malenkoff's peis was stiff and red and swollen.
He made me suck him good and hot, but had not consummated his orgasm in my mouth.
Saliva smeared on the inside of my thigh, when he stoked his swollen, saliva-soaked peiis up and own the thigh.
He got ready to get on top of me. He held my legs spread and wrapped around his middle.
Putzi held my hands in place, his leering red face looming over me.
Malenkoff took hold of himself and guided his rod to my pussy.
I cried when he prodded the lips with ish penis head.
He jammed me with it.
Under the pressure of the penis head, the pussy lips parted.
Huffing and puffing, he worked his cock head into my tigh vaginal orifice.
I started shrieking, a hysterical littl girl.
Blinding pain lanced through my middle.
My pussy was entered and stretched.
He put it into my slowly, groaning as it sank into me.
I felt like I was being spit by a woodsman's axe!
His weight crushed the wind out of me, so I could hardly draw breath engough to scream the was I wanted and needed to.
I was being stretched - there seemed no end to the snake of flesh slithering inside me.
Suddenly, its head bumped my maidenhead.
Fits of shivereing seized me - hot and cold chills ran through me.
Malenkoff growled and gathered himself for the deflowering thrust.
He lunged into me.
Pain exploded between my leg!
Something -- my maidenhead -- tore inside me!
Ignoring my shrieks, Malenkoff rooted around in me like a hog groveling ofr precious treats in a slp trough.
He used his member as a weapon to ravage and ruin and violate me.
Ferociously he battered into me, undoing the last of my maidenhead.
His cock head swept aside the last shreds of sundered tissue.
His cock head jammed deep into the pit of me.
I scradmed, then passed out...
But my swoon was of only the briefest duration, and affected him not at all.
When I came to, I was most aware of the constant ache between my legs.
It made my wholde body shiver and shake.
There was a steady, brutal rhythm thudding back and forth inside me, like a pistton pumping into a cylinder.
Malenkoff brutally raped me.
He rocked faster and faster, then shoved deep.
I squealed once more.
His member jerked inside me, spitting semen.
Masses of come were pumped into me, flookding me.
I thought I might be sick...
Malenkoff looked like a madman at the instant of orgasm.
A fullgrown man, he held a stripped, squalling, sobbing youngster with hger skinny legs spread and her small pussy penetrated and punished by his big penis.
After he stopped coming the first time, he raped me again.
He didn't even bother taking his penis out of me, but kept it for both times!
The second time hurt hust as much, and took longer....
I was semi-conscious, in a haze of pain and fear.
Finally, Malenkoff pulled out of me.
The pain lessened, but remained with me.
I lay sprawled on the couch right where he had left me.
My mouth ached. Semen still coated my tongue, poisoning me.
My budding breasts were sore and throbbing from constant manhandling.
The tiny nipples were stiff purple point of throbbing sorenes.
Between my legs was a throbbing intense pain.
All my bones and joints ached from the abuse.
My legs were spread and I was too drained to close them.
My pussy lips drooped like wilted flower petals.
Instead of their normal rose color, they were red and rawly irritated.
Inside, I ached even worse.
My pussy was filled to the brim twith Malenkoff's slimy seed.
My thighs were covered with purple bruises and fingerprints.
Malenkoff pulled up his pants and buttoned up.
Stanf and Putzi clustered around him.
The group spoke in hushed whispers.
"What do we do about them?!" Putzi asked.
By "them," he meat Matilda and me.
"TThere's only one thing we can do," Stanfl said. "Kill them!"
Matilda sobbed. I was too far gone to care.
Malenkoff chuckled.
Putzi drew his revolver. "I suppose we must do it."
"What simple sould you towo comrades are!" Malenkoff said.
Putzi and Stanfl regarded him, puzzled by his remark.
"I said that part of our mission is to terrorize the upper class," Malenkoff began. "Murder is only one means!"
"Just as goo is sexual terror! Let the aristorcrats and the oppressors know that their womenfolk, their wives and daughters, are no more exempt from violation than the daughters of the workers!
"That will terrorize them!"
"The next time a burgher or factory owenver or government officail is presented with our demands, he'll think twice about refusing to obey them!"
"And, when he knows that this sort of thing can happen to his loved ones, to his wife, mother, daughter, sister - he will obeyt!
"By leaving these two cunts alive to tell their tales, by leaving them alive so that they are a constant reminder of what our movement can do, we will create infinitely more terror than we could by slaying them!"
Sanfl said, doubtfully, "But if we leave them alive, they can identify us!"
"Idiot! Here we are, on the verge of revolution, which will topple a country and install the dictatorship of the proletariat, and you worry about that!"
"No, it is the upper classes who must live in fear of being identified! Soon, our revolutionary tribunals will exact the people's justice on the oppressors!
"As we noew have done!"
Neither Stanfl nor Putzi liked the idea of letting us live.
But they liked even less the thought of defying Malenkoff's will.
He was their master.
"We'll go now... but first, we'll leave our calling card!"
Malenkoff withdrew a folding knife from his pocket, and opened the blade.
He went to the corpse of Papa and leaned over it.
I hid my face with my hands, and didn't peek.
Malenkoff used the blade to scrawl the emblem of the Reds, a hammer and sickle, on the wall of the study.
His footsteps approached me on the couch.
I was bereathless with terror.
He took hold of my hand and pulled them down from my face.
He held the dripping crimson blade over my face.
I was paralyzed, like a mouse in a cage with a snake.
Evil fires burned in his hooded serpent's eyes.
Dropets of blood spattered on my pale upturned face.
I would have begged his to spare my life, but I was too frightened to speak.
Pressing the flat of the bloody blade against my bare chest, he drew a hammer and sickle over my titties.
The razor sharp blade broke the skin, and left a thin slashed line, which presently began to ooze thin droplets of ruby-red blood.
"When they ask you who did these things," Malenkodff said, "tell them that it was the Reds! Don't forget!"
I wouldn't...
Malenkoff wiped his bloody knife blade clean on my fair hair.
Then he unfolded the blade, closing it and putting it in his pocket.
He stuck his pistol in the deep outer pocket of his overcoat.
He turned up his collar and pulled down the brim of his hat.
He had to remind Stanfl not to forget the hat which had fallen form his head. Stanfl picked it up, and jammed it down on his head.
"Let's go," Malenkoff said.
Heavy footsteps stamped across the carpet into the hall.
Malenkoff, pausing under the archway leading into the hall, turned, looking back.
Sneering, he drew himself up and clicked his heels together in what was a mockery of Prussian punctility.
"Auf wiedersehn!" he laughed.
Then, turning on his heel, he led his followers down the hall, into the kitchen, and out the back door.
I heard them clumping down the back stairs and away.
Groaning, I tried to move.
I ached all over, and lacked the strength to stand.
I toppled to the floor.
Looking across the carpet, I spied the sprawled lump of Papa's corpse.
Choking and gagging, I turned round and crawled the other way.
Matilda huddled on the floor, shoulders shaking as she sobbed.
Her abused bottom was turned up and her buttocks glistened with spilled semen.
As she sobbed, her soft buttocks shook.
I somehow managed to croak her name.
Her face was bruised, black and blue, and haunted.
"Dear God!" she whipered. "Are they gone?!"
"Yes..."
Somehow, show got to her hands and knees and managed to crawl out of the room.
I was too drained to do anything but collapse on the floor.
Distantly I heard Matilda wrestle open the front door and fling it open, so that it rocked back and crashed on its hinges.
Looking up, I saw the red hammer and sickle scrawled on the wall panels over the mantle of the fireplace.
It had been smeared on, and the red blood dripped and ran.
That was when I started screaming.
I was still shrieking madly when the authorities arrived, too late as usual...
