The Last Command – Consuelo’s Fate, Chapter 8 Sex Stories Cool – Y2-Stories

After the dead are honored, Consuelo and the Blyth daughters are “invited” to the General’s table and duly raped outdoors. A man named Ramón shows up.

The Mexicans would have astonished Consuelo with their efficiency and their instantaneous return to strict military discipline, if she hadn’t been so exhausted and hurt from all the cumulative abuse she had taken.

Her sense of humiliation and debasement was crushing her. It had culminated with her gang rape at the hands of Aaron and two other black slaves she knew all too well.

And now the General had hinted that her father was still alive.

Consuelo asked to see him as the bugle boy helped her back into her ruined dress of plaid light rose fabric. The buttons were gone from when the General himself had torn its top open. Consuelo simply attached both sides of the loose dress top together in order to at least cover her pectoral modesty, albeit her navel was scandalously visible with such an arrangement.

Miss Amy handed Consuelo her dark shawl and she used it to cover herself in a more decent manner. She was reattaching her hair in some sort of ponytail using a white ribbon Amy just gave her, when soldiers came back with her father’s answer.

Mr. De Quesada did not wish to see his daughter, but he wasn’t angry at her in any way. He loved her and when he’d be no more, Consuelo would be his sole heiress.

Consuelo burst into tears and flung herself into the arms of Miss Amy, unable to repress her sobs, yet she understood why her father wished not to see her.

Mr. De Quesada just couldn’t bear to see her like this, with her dress torn and somehow put together again, the crude arrangements of her hair and the smaller and larger bruises she had all over her, to say nothing of the flakes of dry semen that were to be seen in her hair and on her face. He just couldn’t stomach it. She understood.

Consuelo was presently crushed by thoughts about James. This intensified her sobbing in Amy’s arms.

The Mexicans were very civil and polite now. That same fat Captain with a rat face came to courteously announce her that she was now going to be led to the common burial site along with the other women.

“T… Please, capitán,” Consuelo asked with no pride left, “tell the General I want to be shown the body of Colonel James Bowie.”

***

Ann was the loudest in her wails as she lay on her knees and hugged her father’s bloody uniformed corpse, her head on his chest. Ignoring the blood smearing her face. The late Captain Blyth would have been profoundly moved and glad to see such a display of a daughter’s love. Ann’s soul-tearing wails were on par with the youthful mourners from Ancient Greece.

Ann even self-torn her already-torn dress and the milky display of her small tits came into sight for her father to “see” with his empty, dead-fish eyes. Her sisters were too shaken and exhausted to tell their little sister to behave.

Rose-Anne and Mary were nearby, praying on their knees, holding each other while trying not to tremble too much from Rose-Marie’s relentless sobbing. Mary knew about the special relationship her twin sister had with their father; she silently hugged Rose-Anne and said nothing, while remembering the sounds they made together while she silently masturbated. The dutiful daughters were going to miss their father deeply.

Meg felt alone. She let her sisters have their last meet with their departed dad and prayed, unable not to look at Consuelo, who was down on her knees and hugging the body of Colonel Bowie, bathing his dead face with her loving tears.

Consuelo was a wonderful figure to behold under the fiery sunset. Dignified in her dark-earth shawl as she mourned her lover, who never was fully her lover. The Mexicans took from her what she wanted only to belong to him in the sacred bonds of holy matrimony.

The clouds were tinted with blood from heavens. The sky had witnessed the terrible battle, and its even worse aftermath. The orange sun sank, magnified by the dust from the valley, as if heavy with horrible memories.

Davy Crockett lay dead and stiff, his limbs taken by rigor mortis. His head had been smashed so badly with rifle butts that even his wife wouldn’t have recognized him. The late Colonel was wise to keep her far from Alamo; she was safe in Lawrence County, Tennessee.

Consuelo was almost happy he was dead. Highly regarded as a national hero, Davy Crockett was always forgiven his excessive interest for the beautiful gender. He was probably the father of dozens of young Indians with paler skin, as he had copulated a lot with local squaws during his lengthy explorations. He was well-travelled.

Colonels Bowie and Crockett had had famous quarrels, but their most violent one—and it would remain a secret buried with the fallen defenders of Fort Alamo—had the bonniest subject… Colonel Crockett had made a pass at Consuelo de Quesada and was forced-kissing her when James Bowie walked in her room after hearing her muffled squeals.

Davy Crockett was a dead shot, but James Bowie was physically much stronger and by far the better man in hand-to-hand combat. He floored Crockett and said he’d kill him with his bare hands if he ever laid a hand on her again.

Davy Crockett had toyed with the idea of shooting Bowie with his rifle, from afar like a coward, but he was not enough of a scoundrel to get that low, and Fort Alamo needed men like James to fight the Mexicans. They needed a miracle that never came.

Mrs. O’Hara was the one crying over Davy Crockett’s corpse, although she was much repulsed by the outward aspect of his once-handsome face. She and Colonel Crocket had had incredibly intense sessions of sex where he’d darken his face with soot and role-play as an Indian raping her; Mrs. Vivian O’Hara loved this, and Davy Crockett was the only man she ever allowed to use her like this.

If Sergeant O’Hara’s body could have been retrieved, then he would have laid stiff and alone; Mrs. O’Hara hadn’t that much love to spare for her late husband. She had a taste for glamour and was unable to get a better husband than a solid soldier who did very well in his trade, but he was no officer and definitely no gentleman. He routinely legally raped her and often brutalized her.

He had been blown apart by a cannonball during the early phase of the battle, then crushed under stones as a section of the wall collapsed. Whatever was left of him was quickly buried along with other shapeless corpses in a common, unmarked grave with a prayer from the Mexican padre. At least, the departed Irishman got prayers from a Catholic priest. No one is ever absolutely unlucky.

That same padre was presently saying loud prayers for the departed souls while checking the prostrated figures of Mrs. O’Hara and Consuelo.

Both women were down on all fours, clothed with ruins of dresses, with their alluring shapes nicely revealed as they cried over the dead bodies of their lovers. While singing prayers in Latin, the padre thought in Spanish and had a hard time deciding which of these two he was going to rape next.

If those Mexicans weren’t so stupidly good Catholics, padre Rodrigo Gonzales would have taken the liberty of raping one or the other right there over the stiff corpse of her man. It would have been so immoral! So intense!

General Santa Anna had the same idea. Wouldn’t it be lovely to rape that blonde wife as she was shaken with sobs and covering her dead husband with her kisses?

Mrs. Dickinson was indeed quite something to behold. Late Lieutenant Harry Dickinson was in fact a couple of years her junior. He had met her ten years before and taken much immense delight in giving her four healthy children, all of whom now stood in tears and prayed like good Christians for the salvation of their father’s soul.

Mrs. Dickinson was well into her thirties, but she still had that look of the yellow rose of Texas she was on her wedding day.

General Santa Anna would have loved to rape her over the corpse of her husband. He loved to rape in the most preposterous ways. But he knew his soldiers all too well. If he did that, they would mutiny and murder him!

Mexicans held the dead as sacred. They were all devoted Catholics who were now paying their respects to their dead and the enemy’s. The bugle boys and drummer boys were playing a solemn funeral march that rose in grim notes toward the crepuscular heavens, where the last blood of the day was to be seen among the westernmost clouds—a bright orgy of fiery oranges and reds lost in a dark sea of soot-black clouds.

General Santa Anna would have Consuelo brought there during the night along with Mrs. Dickinson, and he and a select group of officers would rape both women under the gibbous moon, right next to the corpses of their lovers.

The bodies would be buried at the first light of dawn, by Mestizos with the help of slaves for the Yankees, and by proper Mexican soldiers for their own.

The General made sure to give his soldiers things to do, so they wouldn’t use those poor Yankee women to death.

Mrs. O’Hara would rather be dead. She was now crying in Aunt Anna’s arms, her fancy figure lost in the portly woman’s hug. Her experience of being gang-raped by three slaves would remain forever etched in branding-iron letters within her.

Aaron had been first inside her. Not content with only flattening and pounding her under him, he pulled out of her a couple of times and ate her tits! His big fat lips forming a seal around the tip of her tits would haunt Mrs. O’Hara forever, and her body had reacted against her will! O shame!

When Aaron screamed his bliss right in her face, this was when she became a feeble ghost of the loving woman she once was. She remained a bad widow who only cried for her dead lover.

After Aaron had steamrolled her, Uncle Sam his father and a third slave had made sure she understood that her life as a proper white woman was over.

As she cried her tears out and thought of her hot nights with Davy Crockett, she still felt her bum forced to bump against Uncle Sam as he Africanized her by giving her a due taste of what it felt like to be a slave.

The sun sank under the earth. Venus remained hanging in the sapphire sky, a mocking tiny lamp reminding all that there are just as many different ways of loving as there are stars in the sky.

The gibbous moon would later rise. General Santa Anna smiled with all his teeth. This would be perfect silver light for what he had in mind. He knew he’d be too excited to be able to sleep.

***

The supply wagons pulled into sight. Their arrival was more than welcome. Each soldier had a pint of cerveza. Fires were ablaze to cook some pigs and chickens. Cooking pots were filled with chilis, and tortillas were also on the menu. The usual following of maids/whores were with them. They would get a night off as the men were either too tired or had better delicacies to enjoy.

For the victorious Mexicans, it had been an exhausting day indeed. The General was confident that most would fall asleep soon after dinner. More fun for him.

The battle was followed by a vast array of chores and duties—such as gang-raping the women, retrieving the dead, cleaning their weapons, escorting the raped women to the latrines, then bathing them, then retrieving more of their own dead and the enemy’s, then gang-raping the women again, then back to cleaning up the fort and gathering the bodies of the dead while the surgeons attended to the wounded. An exhausting day indeed. Drinking cerveza felt mighty good to their parched mouths under the dusty wind.

***

The General was presently dining under the stars, just outside the fort, along with his surviving officers, on a long makeshift table made out of planks and barrels. There were enough torches alight for him to get a bright sight of his lovely guests—Consuelo and the Blyth daughters.

Consuelo looked just as inviting and glamorous as her usual self. Her beauty refused to be marred by such earthly trifles as repeated gang-rapes. If anything, her debasement, as told by the lack of a corset, seemed to intensify her charms.

She sat at the General’s right and felt far too upset to be in the mood to eat with her enemy, but her noisy stomach had drove her dainty hands towards some morsels of pork and compelled her to help herself to some chili.

Consuelo knew she ought not drink with her rapists, but when the fat Captain offered her a pint of cerveza, her desert-dried mouth had forced her to drink. She soon emptied her pint, and the despicable Captain smiled with his rat face and had another pint served for her.

None of the Blyth daughters were able to eat anything, except Meg, who saw Consuelo eating and amorously followed her lead. Meg felt happy to be a little sister as she ate on.

She kept looking at Consuelo, and the General followed her wonderful gaze. He smiled, a grinning smile.

The officers were dog-tired as well and didn’t speak much. The cavalry Colonel got lost in the contemplation of Meg, the girl he had seen in the nude being raped by multiple infantrymen before he himself raped her face and felt the delightful explosion from being inside her mouth. Now he felt horny and was dying to know whether her pussy felt better than her mouth.

The cavalry Lieutenant who had got acquainted with Rose-Anne could hardly wait to be inside her again.

Each of the twenty-odd officers at that table was mentally selecting a girl in his mind, as he ate. They were the lucky ones; at least half of the officers had been killed or seriously wounded during the assault. Those Yankee rifles were deadly. Some officers actually thought of deserting, but you didn’t desert from a brigade personally commanded by the President of Mexico.

General Santa Anna was giving some meat to Homer and Pluto, his two German shepherd dogs. Both ate with good appetite and kept coming back to smelling and licking Consuelo’s bare feet.

“They like you, your highness!” the General jested.

Consuelo kept eating in silence. Silent tears fell from her starry eyes as she felt ill-at-ease from the dogs’ unwanted attentions and kept thinking of James Bowie, whose cock would never be hers.

She ate her chili and drank her beer.

Men from the supply wagons were eating quietly at a distance. They kept looking at Consuelo and the other “guests” with predatory eyes. One of them was Ramón Martinez.

General Santa Anna noticed them and frowned. He motioned at the leading sentinel, the same bearded Sergeant who had raped Consuelo right after the fat Captain.

The tall, burly Sergeant subserviently came closer, feeling arousal upon looking at Consuelo’s breast shapes through her crudely attached dress top; he knew he was going to see those lovely tits again, sooner than later.

“What are your orders, Your Excellency?”

“Sergeant, I don’t like these men being so close to us. Tell them to move away, but tell them also I want to see them later on. And make sure they are unarmed; they may get their weapons back tomorrow.”

“Aye, aye! Your Excellency!”

If he had been a Prussian Unteroffizier, the Sergeant would have struck his heels together, but he was Mexican.

He walked straight to the four men near the wagon with three soldiers behind him.

Ramón Martinez wasn’t easily intimidated. He looked like a tall and strong brigand in his own right. He was quite pissed when the Sergeant broke him the news, but this was one mean-looking Sergeant, looking as strong as a bull, who had just gone through a hard-fought battle, with three soldiers, muskets ready to fire, bayonets ready to stab—the bayonet is a deadly weapon in close combat.

There was no arguing with them, and besides, Ramón was curious to know what the General wanted to see him for. He got even more curious when the Sergeant told him it had a lot to do with the ladies he saw at His Excellency’s table.

“Are… Are you sure?” Ramón asked.

“I know His Excellency; I’ve been serving under him for three years. Three weeks ago, we had our fun with the nuns from a convent, and when the General, the officers and the soldiers were all done with them, the nuns were tossed, naked, to a band of bandits who were acting as scouts. The General loves to watch virtuous ladies being whored by bandits and, uh, men who are hard at work with callused hands. Trust me, what’s your name?”

“Ramón. Ramón Martinez, and this is Pancho, Antonio and Luis.” (The three men, of an average build, vulgar-looking, ages ranging from 30 to 55, nodded at the Sergeant with a veneer of civility belied by some murderous light in their eyes.)

“Trust me, Ramón, he’ll watch you and your men have fun with that beautiful lady you see at his right!”

“They aren’t my men; we’re compañeros! But I’ve seen that lady in San Antonio! I was there before.”

“Who is she? I know her by her body, but not by her name.”

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Sergeant (Ramón patted his epaulette-loaded shoulder) Sergeant, you are muy hombre! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! (Ramón turned to his companions) He knows her by her pussy, but he doesn’t know her name! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

The wagon men all laughed their heads out along with Ramón, tapping their thigh. They all knew who she was; Ramón had talked about her at length. Consuelo was Ramón’s obsession.

Ramón enjoyed his importance now that the Sergeant wanted information from him. After enjoying the laughter and his moment of petty glory, he finally said, “Her name is Consuelo de Quesada, and she’s the only daughter of one of the richest men in the Mexican province of Texas. She’s eighteen years old now, and, I see… you made a woman out of her.”

“Yes, and this without knowing her name! We call her bonita señorita and noble señorita.”

“Or a noble putana! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Well… Bueno, Sergeante, here are our pistols, our knives and, oh, Poncho! Go get the carbine; we’ll get our weapons back tomorrow!”

“Thank you, amigo! We’ll take good care of your artillery. You will come back in about an hour from now and the General will see you! We’ll give you a bottle of the General’s fine tequila to share among you and a new deck of cards of the finest quality if you want one. Consider yourselves the honour guests of General Antonio López de Santa Anna!”

“Isn’t he our Presidente?”

“Si, señor, he is, but here on the field, he insists on being addressed as General!”

***

At the table, the wayward wind brought a change of tack as the men grew restless near their lovely “guests”. The officers and gentlemen suddenly became only officers.

One nod and a grin from Santa Anna told the cavalry Colonel it was now open season on whichever girl they wanted.

“Miss Consuelo de Quesada”, the General said civilly, “excuse me, but I really want to do… this!”

In one strong and swift motion, Santa Anna—an active man—got up and grabbed Consuelo by the front of her dress, already upsetting its crude knot while the fat Captain and a cavalry Major restrained her arms, and then…

General Santa Anna, with a wicked expression of savage joy, violently pulled Consuelo’s dress top off her shoulders and down her upper arms, crudely exposing her breasts that sprung out of her torn dress in a debauchery of soft lights and shadows, her brownish nipples plainly offered in a powerfully soft display under the bright torchlight.

Impressive shadows deepened the wide canyon of her cleavage and made it look like Consuelo’s gorgeous tits were even more pushed out of her aristocratic chest as she plaintively squealed in their arms.

The rat-faced Captain and the red-uniformed Major grinned like wicked devils, holding her sore wrists as the General cupped Consuelo’s breasts and got his mouth full with one of her nipples as she cried out her despair. He rolled his tongue around the delicate tab of her nipple and she cried out some more, very much afraid that the ghost of Colonel Bowie was up there and watching.

The Sergeant was back. Raising his voice to cover the women’s squeals and wails, he briefly reported that Ramón and the other wagon men would be there in an hour.

General Santa Anna acknowledged with a quick nod as he got lost in the beauty and taste of Consuelo’s tits while enjoying the sounds of her cries. As he sucked her tits, he was deciding on which position to use her in.

Elsewhere on the table, squeals were heard from Rose-Anne and Mary, both of whom had been grabbed.

“Did you miss me, beautiful rose of Texas?” the handsome Captain asked Mary as he forced a fierce kiss out of her and a quick sentry grabbed her arms.

“I’m gonna try this one!” the cavalry Lieutenant grinned as he seized Meg while looking at Rose-Anne, who got grabbed by the cavalry Colonel, who finally made up his mind for a younger girl.

Three young Lieutenants were already restraining Ann, whose torn dress they immensely enjoyed removing away from her pristine nakedness, suddenly on display with her neat nipples and her revealed patch of dark pussy hair. She was just as cock-hardening as she was small and petite.

“Now, that’s a lovely little muff!” an eighteen-year-old Ensign-bearing Lieutenant exclaimed as they laid down the young maiden on the table after violently tossing the tin cups and platters down to the ground.

Ann took the abuse silently, hoping they would treat her like a true señorita by taking her from behind. The officers pinned her on her back, with her lower legs dangling from the table’s edge as the Ensign got his face right between her legs, where he started kissing her beaver, discovering that she tasted like piss with some bit of a flavour akin to anchovy with strong remnants of rancid cum. He didn’t like the taste very much and his fellow Lieutenants made fun of his inexperience.

With a measure of sordid envy, Ann looked at Consuelo, who was already bent over the table and held there by that grotesquely fat Captain as the General ragingly tore her dress down from her suddenly-naked butt! They were going to treat Consuelo like a proper señorita! The full buns of her buttocks were right there in their full paleness, bright under the golden torchlight and waiting for the General to visit the narrow space between them.

“At least, we aren’t being gang-raped by negro slaves”, Ann thought.

***

Ramón sat some three hundred yard away, near the small campfire he had just lighted up along with his three compañeros. They had a spyglass—stolen from the dead body of some rich merchant after they had attacked his stagecoach and gang-raped his wife—and were passing it among themselves.

Through that spyglass, Ramón could watch Consuelo presently being taken from behind, on that table, by that same bearded Sergeant he had met, while the General and a fat officer looked on, grinning and watching Consuelo’s dark hair bobbing along with her head as the strong Sergeant took his heavy toll of pleasure in powerful strokes. Ramón could almost hear the grunts from the thickly bearded Sergeant.

Ramón was granite hard under his trousers. At last! He was seeing Consuelo in the nude and he was going to be inside her! At last!

He had been employed by Señor de Quesada for a long time, rising to the rank of assistant butler while young Consuelo was growing into a fine-looking maiden. By the time the little señorita was thirteen, Ramón was masturbating or fucking a maid while thinking of Consuelo and her budding assets.

When Consuelo had just turned fourteen, Ramón cornered her and made a pass at her. The scared girl had managed to weasel herself out of his embrace and had screamed loud enough for her father to hear and inquire what was going on.

Ramón was fired that day. He had become a small-time highwayman working odd jobs. He had been working the supply line for the General in the hope – the fulfilled hope of getting involved in the gang-rape of Texan settlers.

And now, under that gibbous moon, he looked at his stolen watch and saw it was almost ten o’clock. Ramón was going to enjoy the one piece of booty he had never hoped to get. Consuelo!

***

Before the bearded Sergeant sank inside Consuelo and was reminded of how good she felt, the General, that cavalry Major and the fat Captain had of course taken their due at her expense. The General preceded the Major and the Captain, who in turn preceded the Sergeant. Consuelo was being raped with proper military honours. Gentlemen first.

Consuelo had cause to find that being raped from behind like a common whore was just as humiliating no matter who the rapist was. As the General raped her while holding her butt and her face was sliding on the table surface from the relentless doggy-style rape, next to her empty pint of cerveza, Consuelo realized she was almost missing Aaron and his incredibly strong touch.

Truth be told, the one man who had forced the most intense pleasure out of her happened to be a black slave! Her own body was accomplice to her sordid debasement.

The General felt like he were 20 years old again as he kept buffeting the erotic cushions of Consuelo’s buttocks and their wide expanse of moving flesh that looked pale golden under the torchlight, with her contrasting hair acting like a blanket of black satin waves against the brightness of her backside.

She took the savage pounding with whimpers of pain and moral suffering, with her hands flat on either side of her head, her face sliding where she caught sight of the General’s German shepherds, who gazed at her with ears moving.

“Ahh, yes! Ahhrr, yes! Yes! Consuelo! Yes! Aaah, this is so good! So good to be having her! You thought you wouldn’t get caught, eh? Uhhn! Uhn – uhn – uhnn… Well, take this! This, and this, Aaahhh! Yes!”

The General was very vocal amid his groans as he quickly reached and passed his edge, then he took hold of her waist and drove her like a blur of splendour, her butt buffeting against his lap in furious spat-spat-spat sounds as he felt the unstoppable surge and knew he was going to… AhhhhhhhhhhhhhRrR!!!

Inside Consuelo, his hard and swollen erection spat raging bursts of angry semen that stuck inside her pussy and got started on their quest for her womb and the possible egg.

The beyond-satisfied General got out of her and smiled.

“She’s all yours, commandante!”

The cavalry Major promptly raped Consuelo in the same forceful manner while thinking of a stallion breeding with a fine mare. He soon hit his delight and caused a shameful fire of climax inside Consuelo as he almost neighed like a horse and shot his hot seed.

The Major left and politely took his leave from the General, who then insisted that he stayed no matter how tired he felt. This was going to be a once-in-a-lifetime night!

With the bearded Sergeant’s help, the fat Captain turned Consuelo on her back so her lush cunt of black hair was right under their face. There were some fugitive lights in the silk of that triangle of hair under that torchlight.

“If you excuse me, dear Señorita, but I already had the pleasure of your behind when we first got acquainted last morning. Now I want to feel your legs under my hands! You won’t blame me, I’m sure!” Captain Botez said.

With the Sergeant holding her arms together above her head and swaying hair from the opposite side of the table, Captain Botez propped up Consuelo’s legs and hastily unbuttoned his trousers. He let out his stiff erection. Consuelo couldn’t help but look at the eager head of his Mexican cock, uncircumcised and Catholic.

She tried to imagine he were James, but the fat Captain looked too ugly and grotesque with that rat face; his golden epaulettes looked like a mockery on him. Raped by this, Consuelo de Quesada felt even more humiliated than when Aaron used her! She wanted to resist, but she was too weak for this and knew it would be futile anyway.

Both her legs had slipped off his golden epaulettes as the fat Captain showed her his cock.

The Captain went along with it and charged right on between her legs! He rammed himself into the base of her lush triangle of black hair and uttered a loud groan of victory as he once again felt her pussy closing itself around him!

He grabbed her hips and raped her just like that, her butt sliding on the table and her inner thighs brushing the sides of his blue uniform as he vigorously pounded her while the black-bearded Sergeant grinned and looked down at the jiggling splendour of her conquered tits. She was Mexican turf all right. He loved watching her disturbed expression and the bobbing display of her hair as he took his pleasure at last.

The fat Captain remembered watching Consuelo being platoon-raped on that cannon, her tits in full sunny glory under broad daylight. Now, they looked just as gorgeous under that golden torchlight; her brown nipples looked darker with stronger shadows that also deepened her cleavage. Her hair was sorceress-black as the rape was consumed under the stars, with that gibbous moon now rising high.

Captain Botez experienced an ejaculation that turned out a life-changing eruption that forced him to scream as he exploded and filled her up. It was even better than that first time. So much better!

Then, the burly Sergeant moved her around easily, like a feather, and there she was again, bent over the table with her señorita’s butt… Her noble curves were there to be enjoyed and ready to be grabbed. The señorita herself was ready to be fucked again. It was priceless. Ramón and his compañeros followed it all through their spyglass.

The bearded Sergeant entered her and he held nothing back!

As he was having Consuelo from behind and listened to her whimpers, the Sergeant had leisure to watch how the others were using the young maidens.

Meg was being bucked from behind by a sentry who—after the officers had generously hammered that message home for her—made sure she really understood she was Mexican property.

She got the message so loud and clear that she whimpered accordingly, her face sliding along where she could see Ann, her youngest sister being similarly used by Mexicans whose grinning faces were like a nightmare of shadows and glowing skin under the torchlight. The sentry was all sweaty in his effort to add his semen to the Colonel’s and the Lieutenant’s inside Meg aka Britanny.

As a group of lieutenants and captains took a rest after leaving their semen inside Mary and Rose-Anne, the tequila-drinking Mexicans smiled in their olive faces and commented on how tight their flower of Texas felt around their happy cocks.

In the meantime, the old and new shift of sentries—a total of nine loyal Republican soldiers—were very much enjoying their time inside the broken-in maidens, whose pale titties were a true beauty to behold in that golden torchlight, under the stars.

Both Mary and Rose-Anne were shaken between Mexicans; one savagely raping her, the other holding her arms above her head and all contemplating the girl’s bouncing tits, so milky white! as she kept being sliding meat on that table.

“They really look the same, Captain Sir. There’s no telling them apart!”

“Take a closer look, Lieutenant. The one the other calls Mary has slightly darker hair. I know because I’m the one who first broke her in inside the church.”

“You’re a lucky devil, Sir!”

“You can call me Sebastián between us, and you’ll be Miguel, right?”

“Right, Sir, and I’ll tell you a secret. Today was my first time inside a Yankee girl!”

“Well, Miguel. It ain’t the last time! We gonna kick those rebel bastards and the Yankees helping them outside of our province of Texas! Aquí tiene!”

On this, the Captain offered his bottle of tequila to his young mate, and the 20-year-old Junior Lieutenant took a happy swig while watching the fresh sentries, men from his own platoon, taking their delight inside Mary and Rose-Anne.

He had just heard word that he was being promoted to full Lieutenant and would be acting Captain as replacement for his company Captain who had been shot dead by Davy Crockett. This sent him a clear message that surviving battle and raping enemy women improved his chances for promotion.

“By the time this campaign is over, I’ll be a Major and you’ll be my regiment Coronel!” Miguel jested as Captain Sebastián contemplated Rose-Marie’s rape at the hands of pleasure-faced sentries.

One sentry was presently inside Rose-Anne. He was having her with her legs all the way propped up against his shoulders, her white feet deliciously close to his sun-baked face as he held the softness of her thighs and couldn’t believe how great she felt as he kept repeatedly pushing himself deep inside her, in gentle yet deep strokes, and her pretty face and jiggling breasts all kept that gentle-heated rhythm along with her contrasting dark hair.

Raping that Yankee daughter on that makeshift table was so much fun! The other sentries held her arms together and cupped her titties, kneaded them with their callused hands. They often stooped down on them for a beer-flavoured lick after pouring cerveza on their colonial whiteness.

The sentry enjoying her now was a father of six with his oldest one being about the age of that lass he was raping. He felt guilty, yet he kept hammering her in that more gentle style to make his pleasure last. What lacked in penetrative intensity was compensated for in the might of explosion he experienced.

He screamed, “¡Viva la República-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNN NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNHH!!!” and he filled up the bright-skinned girl under the torchlight. The same sort of night-time rape that happened at the fall of Troy, except the Greek rapists were royalists.

His legs lost strength under him and he found himself down on his knees with his face between Rose-Anne’s legs, right against her sex with his nose lost in the lush bush of her hairy cunt, where he also encountered the sickening sludge of his own seed.

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Move over, Rosario!” the next sentry said, his cock already out and ready to resume Rose-Anne’s ordeal in the exact same position, legs propped up, for he wanted a taste of her lovely little feet as well as the tightness of her Texas rose pussy.

“Today was a great day for Mexico! ¡Viva la República! And this Yankee maid loves being gang-fucked. Just listen how she squeals! Listen to her hot whimpers!”

K-Pow!

“¡Viva la República!” “…-va la República!”

K-Pokhw-Pow!

“No shooting, sentry!” the fat Captain barked. “No shooting! Spare the ammo! If you want to shoot some, then the noble señorita and the little gringas here are at your full disposal to do so!”

The new sentry took his words to heart and had a difficult decision to make as to choose between three lovely white asses, looking at Consuelo, Meg and Mary, all of whom were now bent over and forced to whimper, and to orgasm, as some of the officers joined the sentries and had another go. The post-battle heat gave extra gunpowder to their cocks, and they couldn’t get enough of those lily-white girls!

Mary was being savagely bucked from behind by the sentry Corporal whose lone epaulette marked the urgent rhythm, her tits pressed on that tabletop as she was bent over with her shoulders nearly dislocated—the strong, squat soldier was using her arms for leverage by holding her wrists and pulling them hard toward him as he repeatedly drove her milky butt against his lap, causing his impaling erection to ram deep toward her womb… Her young curves ever bumping against him gave food for his fierce erection that gloriously expanded inside her.

All of this caused him to smile under his brigand’s moustache as he licked his lips and kept raping her with his mouth wide open, frothing slobber dripping down as he presently got hit by Heaven’s Delight… He enjoyed that timeless moment… then blissfully shot a salvo of hot Tex-Mex seed. That Corporal was from San Antonio, but he was fighting on the rightful side. Texas and all the girls in it were Mexican turf.

“And remember this, white gringa! Texas is a Mexican province!”

Two of the fresh sentries grabbed Ann out of the hands of young officers, who had been kissing and licking her tiny body all over, giving the girl some loving attentions that she liked in spite of her grief.

The selfish Ensign protested, but General Santa Anna sternly barked in favour of the newcomers, for he loved to watch white girls being defiled by the rank-and-file.

Ann’s thirteen year-old body was thus grabbed from the table and put down on the ground, near the General and the cavalry officer, where the highest-ranking onlookers could enjoy the show.

The first sentry knelt between her diminutive legs, and once his respectable cock was out and mast-ready for action, he propped Ann’s legs up and pinned them under his shoulders as he rose onto her and strained, pushing his erection against and into her entrance as she screamed and  protested in English…

“Naooo! Nooo! I want to be treated like Consuelo! Take me from behind! From behind!” Ann squealed.

Both overexcited dogs came right at her and sniffed her, their tails waggling just as frantically as the sentry making himself at home on top of Ann.

The sentry ignored her words and her language as well. He blissfully groaned and entered inside her.

He raped her as if there was no tomorrow. General Santa Anna couldn’t believe how such a small girl could endure such brutal punishment while still protesting with her voice loud and loaded with hate, and her little girly fists clenched in anger as she kept insisting on being used from behind. The German shepherds ran around her, their tails waggling in excitement.

“Ah, yes. Pluto and Homer get so excited when they smell cunts! It’s probably the fishy elements that get them going like this!” the General said to Ramón, who presently arrived with his three companions.

All four men were grinning as they were meticulously searched for weapons by the bearded Sergeant and junior officers while the sentries were taking their enjoyment inside the roses of Texas… All of them privates lost in what looked like a competition to know who could rape a Yankee girl the hardest and give her the richest load of semen.

“Nine months from now, gringa, you gonna have my baby!” one sentry told Mary as he relieved himself, and she had the misfortune to know Spanish.

Mary cried, bitterly cried as she took yet another man from behind, her face forever sliding on that tabletop as her sore waist kept being encircled by conquering hands while her buttocks kept bumping against the enemy for an intimate discharge of another kind of ammunition. The kind that dealt shame and unplanned babies.

As added insult to injury, Mary could see and/or hear everything that happened to her sisters, everything that happened to Consuelo, who was similarly bent over that same long table, her head down as if asleep and her cunt dripping with spent cum, where the dogs kept coming back to take a whiff and lick more and more often.

***

Inside the fort, Mrs. Dickinson, Mrs. O’Hara and twelve-year-old Isabella had been spread-eagled on the ground along with some Spanish-speaking wives of Hispanic rebels, near that fateful cannon on which Consuelo had been battalion-raped.

The pale-white women were much preferred to the browner Latinas. All of them lasses, their wrists and ankles were firmly, painfully tied to stakes, and then… Both Yankee women and the young maiden were each honoured by a line-up of grinning soldiers while most of the brigade were fast asleep, either forever or simply ‘till next morning.

As her tits kept jiggling under a stinking Mexican uniform, Mrs. O’Hara had ample opportunity to compare between the shame of getting raped by black slaves and being raped by aguardiente-drinking rabble, whose unwashed faces were still smeared with the gunpowder from the morning’s battle. Negroes and Mexicans were surprisingly hard to tell from one another for that wife who used to fancy herself as being glamorous, and felt so jealous of Consuelo who had it effortlessly.

Big Pedro with his double chin and round face, his breathe reeking of chilli peppers, was huffing and puffing while raping her, his torso propped up on his straightened arms so he could enjoy the jiggling glory of her supposedly off-limits breasts.

“How does the Yankee lady enjoys our company? Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Texas is Mexico’s property! And so are you, Ma’am! Uhh, uhh, uhh –u hh … Oooaaaa AAAAAAAAAAAAHHR YYYAAAAAAHHUUGGH!!!”

Mrs. O’Hara endured that filthy ejaculation as the fat man relieved himself, his eyes filled with unrestrained joy, his wide-open mouth letting drip down some more frothing slobber, flavoured with the peppers he had been munching.

Her Yankee tits received that Rio Grande slobber before being further defiled by Pedro’s mouth, who made a point of fully enjoying her white tits before leaving his spot for the next, growing impatient man.

Before Big Pedro left her, Mrs. O’Hara had the added displeasure of feeling his harsh beard stubbles on her sensitive skin as he violated her breasts while she bitterly cried and felt the loss of her lover—the late Davy Crockett.

“Every lass who gets raped by Big Pedro never forgets it! I’m the father of at least fifteen bastards! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

Next to her, little Isabella was literally disappearing under each of her successive rapists, uniformed rapists, many of whom had raped Consuelo or Mrs. Dickinson before, and they were now learning, or being reminded, that the younger the girl, the bigger and most fulfilling the final eruption was. They drowned her in their cum.

Mrs. Dickinson got a line-up from all the Mexicans who felt fascinated by her blonde hair. There was no shortage of them. They kept licking and kissing her slobbered face and each of them gave her his seed while burying his face in her golden hair. Her scent was more intoxicating to them than aguardiente. They all took at least two rides inside her, while she wailed, sometimes forced to climax as she thought of her dead husband, who lay outside the fort and whose glassy eyes looked at the stars without seeing them. Just one day before, they had made love for the last time.

***

“NOOOOOO! Not him! Not him not Ramón! Not Ramón! I’d rather give myself to dogs than him!”

In such winged words Consuelo protested in shrill screams as she recognized the terrible face of Ramón.

TO BE CONTINUED.