The Last Command

[Blue]

@HistBuff
Thank you for your explananation. That Was something new for ne and now I understand the reasons.

[HistBuff]

Don de Quesada was still alive. Barely. He prayed for dying soon. It wasn't the pain in his shot bowels. It was the prospect of being forced to watch his daughter subjected to more degrading acts. Had he not suffered enough already? He had seen an entire platoon taking their turns inside Consuelo while keeping her pinned to a cannon, and this had been just the beginning. Santa Anna himself--the bloody bastard!---had raped her as well. And then, the butt of the black joke... Consuelo had been taken by slaves!

And yet, Don de Quesada looked at Meg's naked figure and felt he'd love to have her before it's too late. He watched on as her figure looked like a bright beacon of pure grace, albeit with an air of absolute exhaustion, amid those devils raping her under the sun, when she and her sisters were being gang-raped by the returning half company. Fresh Mexican cocks to make their Yankee pussies feel the heat from the Rio Grande. Rivers of sperm inside her. Oceans of love for her body, and a world of pain and hatred for who she was---the enemy woman to be raped and humiliated now that the battle had been won.

Don de Quesada visually worshiped Meg's breasts as a jiggling pair of eye candies that filled his sense of guilt with light. In light of his sinful disposition on the very doorstep to the great Hereafter, Don de Quesada appreciated the vile distraction, since watching Meg and Rose-Anne in the arms of those newcomers with fresh shakos spared him the indignity of watching his daughter Consuelo with dust on the soles of her bare feet where she lay under yet another wave of grinning soldiers who kept yelling "viva la Republica!"

Rose-Anne was flattened under some force of nature, barely able to breathe, his wide brown-sugar face one fat smiling mask as the big soldier profusely sweat on her while calling her "bonita rosa" or "rosa de Texas" as he took great exertions inside her and kept torturing her wretched pussy, her virginity now a weirdly distant, and fading, memory, as her head bobbed on under the painful and boring torture from that heavy beast of a man.

They called him Big Pedro as they cheered him on. The young officer who obviously led them was now smoking a cigarillo and kept dusting his cobalt-blue uniform, visibly proud of the golden linings adorning his jacket and of his lone epaulet with cheap golden fringes. He was no gentleman, but most definitely fancied himself as one.

Pedro's gorilla-like grunting took most of her attention. So impossible was their encounter! His grunting gained in force and intensity as he reached this proximity of his edge. Rose-Anne had crash-gained more than enough experience to know he was soon going to be done. But it felt as if time slowed to a crawling standstill and became some shit-smelling celestial snail.

Pedro's disgusting face is what she keeps looking away from, the smallness of her dainty face constantly reminded to her by his gross voice as he kept calling her his sweet "rosa de Texas" amid that brown sun-baked face of his---a brigand's face that belongs south of the Rio Grande. Her skin is too fancy, too pure a scene for the likes of him. And yet such brutal encounters do happen when the fortunes of war feel like it.

It's an eternity written in too heavy a weight for anything to breathe. Even the words get choked under such gross enormity. The soldiers cheer him on. Pedro! Pedro el ladrón! El campeón! The young Lieutenant keeps smoking his peasant's cigarillo while still dusting his uniform and fancying himself a gentleman, already forgetting that some musket ball had missed his head by a hair during the assault. The lad has just learned he's up for promotion since his company captain was shot by Davy Crockett. Right between the eyes.

After what seems an eternity in the dirt, Big Pedro yells "AAAAAAAAAH YANKEEEEE!!!" and explodes inside Rose-Anne, who's still half-naked where her torn dress has just been crudely tucked up by and for several men who took their short-lived and urgent pleasure inside her, including Big Pedro, a Corporal who had been second inside her. Big Pedro, an illiterate peasant from Chihuahua, is now enjoying the well-read girl for the second time, this time for a bit longer. But alas for him, and merciful heaven for the young lady, everything must eventually come to an end.

Rose-Anne remained there, lying exhausted in the dust with her sisters Mary and Meg, where they formed a poignant picture of half-naked damsels with some breasts showing pale like death's milk, against the wide-open curtains of their Yankee-girl dresses, reclining and barefoot amid the fat laughs from the Mexicans.

Then came Santa-Anna's orders and Rose-Anne felt her eyes were leaping out of her face as she saw a small mob of dark-grinning slaves approaching her, their faces nearly coal-black against their evil grins as she recognized every single one of them. She tried to scream, but the massive knot inside her gullet kept her in silence as the Negroes closed in.

A pack of too-familiar faces closed the distance and she felt the unthinkable grasp around her white wrists! Raped by those men whom she had known for years... They were no longer their old selves. The new situation had turned these obedient slaves into personifications of a white girl's worst nightmare, golems that gave flesh and life to whatever dark dreams that had lain low, all along, beneath their secret thoughts when they obeyed orders from her father and the other white men, now no longer there to protect her.

And now their hands were upon her! They urgently ripped the remaining shreds of her dress! Their eyes opening wide as her tits jiggled in broad daylight, as they at last discovered her secret bush of dark hair along with her curves of child-bearing fun as they urgently disrobed her. Rose-Anne imploded as she recognized Thomas just as he engulfed her left breast inside the heat of his mouth, just as she felt another pair of thick lips covering the other one with kisses. Who was she now that Negro's tongues marked their territory around her areolas? Now that a jungle of hands silently said she was theirs? From head to toe.

"Milady! Young beautiful Milady"

"Yipeee we gonna fuck her!"

"At last! At last! I'm so hard it's painful!"

"Missie gonna feel my black hickory, little white tramp!"

"Thomas! Philip! Adam! Sam! Stop this! It's wrong!!!" Rose-Anne pleaded, her voice broken and husky as she felt all those previous rapes had been but a prelude to this---her real actual humiliation and breaking. Her moral death. Unclean! Her feet were going to burn if she even took one step inside a church! But they were like beasts! They had to know what it's like to violate Rose-Anne Blyth, the daughter of that stern Captain who had treated them like dogs for so long!

Rose-Anne found herself floating amid the horde of vociferating slaves. Each man spurred the other. She noticed some guilt in Sam's features, but with the others leading him on and prompting him to hold one of her ankles, Sam was soon calling her "a lovely little Milady he was going to fuck".

She felt Sam's grasp on her ankle and then felt hands stroking her cunt as Thomas commented on the silky softness of her hair down there. She braced herself as they pinched her nipples with the promise of pinching harder if she didn't spread out her legs. Confusedly seeing that her sisters Meg and Mary were both already bobbing their heads under repeated rapes from other slaves, Rose-Anne opened her legs for them and prayed they would make this short.

"Let's so if Rose-Anne Blyth is tighter than Consuelo de Quesada!" Thomas bellowed for all to hear as he spat on his valiant cock, whose veins and the bulging head spelled terror for the Yankee lass, who gazed at it, fascinated by this terrifying snake where the sunlight gave it a nice shimmer of slobber.

"Aaaaahhh! The master's dead! Let's take his daughters---hnnrrrrggh!" Thomas uttered as he strained and sank inside Rose-Anne, forcing a yelping scream out of her where she was held fast amid the forest of laughing hands.

Her heart sank further down in the bottomless abyss as she heard cries from Anne her beloved baby sister. They had brought her up to be raped by slaves too. And as Thomas made a forceful entry inside her, Rose-Anne couldn't help but seek her young sister... She found Anne amid a group of slaves where Abraham, the old slave who was Sam's father, was smiling with a smile to make Satan jealous as he put his hands like smears of dark mud on Anne's boyish bottom while other Negroes bent her over, and then Abraham held the small girl with such force that she stood on the tips of her toes when the old slave penetrated her, very horrifically so, and amid the vociferating, white-tramp calling confusion of her own rape, Rose-Anne saw this! Something that God should be shamed for allowing it to happen. Abraham's cock was exploring Anne! And the Negroes held the petite girl, bent over and tip-toeing with her black hair waving like a lost ship's sail under the sun.

Loud cries, grunts and cheering and catcalling assaulted Rose-Anne's ears like a loud broadside during a naval battle. Rose-Anne tried to convince herself she was in the high seas amid a pirate crew who had just captured the merchant ship she was passenger on. But she knew them all! Thomas gazed at her with laughing eyes, his head nodding at her amid his frowning efforts, nodding on, as if telling her "Do you feel me, Milady? Do you feel how deep I'm fucking you? Do you? Well, do you, tramp?" his thick lips trembling as he shot his load inside her, as she felt his hands around her waist, felt other hands on her breasts and knew this was Philip's voice as she heard the comment on her tits being just the right size for a Negro's hand and so ungodly soft. She knew this was old Abraham groaning as he came deep inside Ann.

Rose-Anne was kept floating amid the carousel from Hell as Philip, Sam and the others began passing her on between them. The worst was knowing Ann was also being passed on amid another pack of men who used to be good obedient slaves.

It was an urgent rape, beastly where everything she never thought could happen did happen.

When the Negroes were done with them, Rose-Anne, little Anne, Mary and Meg lay naked, in no particular order, in close proximity of Violet O'Hara, who was also observing the dress code--Eve nude. Eve nude and hiding her raven-black sex under trembling hands as she cried without tears and tried to her utmost to conjure whatever shreds remained of her lady's pride and deportment. Negro semen was ebbing out of her entrance. A state now shared by all young ladies.

Aunt Jemima, the portly slave who had been stripped nude and humiliated by Mexicans after they got spent from abusing Consuelo, now took her lady in her big mama's arms and Violet let her loyal servant hug her against her house-wide bosom. It was quite a sight to see---Aunt Jemima, the big naked slave with buttocks that could satiate a whole regiment, now consoling Violet, whose slim figure and white skin were polar opposites. Aunt Jemima consoled Violet as if she were her own daughter. Both of them embraced by the afternoon sun under the wayward wind.

***

A short while later, as Mexican soldiers and the satisfied slaves got busy and began to sort out the dead bodies and clean up the battle's aftermath, Anne, sobbing, her head cast down, was brought to Consuelo's father by a pair of young, grinning officers. A Captain de la Bragueta proudly announced this was his own idea while polishing his long curved mustache. To give one last sweet to a dying brave man.

Don de Quesada was still alive, barely, reclining on a wall, in great pain, but his eyes were full of lust and --- mirabile dictu --- he opened his trousers and produced a vigorous erection. Ann... De Quesada had always had a soft spot for young ladies. He indeed longed for Ann's boyish butt. She was kept standing in front of him, naked, the black triangle of her cunt a magnet of sin. He knew this was sin, that he'd go to Hell. He was terrified by the prospect, but he wanted so much to touch Ann and feel her young flesh!

Ann saw it --- Mr. Don de Quesada's erection, the same mast that sired Consuelo. She felt beyond disturbed. Beyond exhausted. No way in hell she was going to fuck him! Blood was all over him. It was disgusting! Positively disgusting! And he was far too old!

The two Mexican Captains tried to tell her not to worry about the blood, that she was going to get a bath right after! But she balked and tried to run, although she did so feebly, since she had been violated so many times it was a miracle she still could stand, barely.

The pair of Captains got angry and gave her a choice between having sex with Don de Quesada or getting a rifle shoved up her ass with the bayonet first. They pointed at a pair of sentinels who smiled at Ann, their eyes reminding her she was naked.

Reluctantly, Ann nodded and tried to look at Don de Quesada, whose lost soul had him smiling at the naked girl. She blushed faintly, loathing him with whatever energy she had left --- she had some weak sense of pride for still being there after going through so many rapes, but she had no idea who or what she was now. He looked at her from head to toe, wincing in pain from his shot gut, but nonetheless felt turned on by what he saw --- his last time having sex.

Don de Quesada was leaning against the wall, reclining. He lowered himself a bit more so his lap would be more easily accessible while his head was kept up against that white wall, where fresh ball impacts reminded Ann about the battle just fought. About her father's demise and her subsequent rapes. About her violated sisters. About this man's failure to prevent this from happening!

She hated him! Loathed him. But the Mexicans persuaded her with the strength of their arms and even better, with the threat of anally raping her with a bayonet. And soon enough, Ann was squatting down on Don de Quesada with her legs apart, where he saw his erect cock against her hairy cunt, along with the surreal sight of her breasts and all the rest of her luminous charms, her neck spiced up by the profusion of her shadow hair. He suddenly saw something strange and terrifying in her, as all his senses were enhanced by the close proximity of death.

Feeling horribly ashamed and hoping that sparing her the indignity of looking at him would save him from eternal damnation, the old fool asked Ann to turn around, the real reason being he was terrified of her face, terrified of what he now saw in her. The damsel did so, and when she squatted down again upon his lap facing away from him, Don de Quesada enjoyed the magic sight of her long raven hair against the light-filled contrast of her slim lower back, which he touched with glee as she lowered herself upon the mast he was holding for her while one of the Captains brandished a pistol and threatened to shove it inside her mouth if she failed to be a good girl.

"At last!" Don de Quesada whispered, his voice broken by his pain. "At last!" he repeated as he lovingly took Anne's waist, felt the hot tight glove of her pussy, and the young damsel began to slowly give some rhythm to his eternal damnation, her small butt strangely wide against her waist, her legs caressed by the sun as he kept his hands on her and felt his cock's growth and expansion inside her, and the natural effort tortured his mauled abdomen, and yet he kept going, knowing this would be his very last opportunity for a flourish inside a lady. Ann, her lovely figure! Ann, her lovely feet! He fell to his damnation with his cock tall and proud inside her as she gently kept up her gyrations on his lap.

"F-aa... father... are... aren't you... ashamed?!" a broken voice was heard. Consuelo's.

Don de Quesada turned his gaze. He saw his daughter, naked and down on her knees between a pair of cavalry officers, their shiny cuirass of well-polished steel where he saw a strange miniature of his own reflection---some strange old dying man on whose lap a small girl with long raven hair was bouncing herself in short quiet strokes, looking down, like a specter of doom whose only visible features were the mass of her shadow hair and the deadly white of her skin. She was Nemesis.

Don looked down toward the blood-stained dirt, greatly ashamed in front of his beloved Consuelo as he felt Ann's pussy nearly choking his throbbing erection to a deflating defeat, but for that one final hurray, his meat soon regained potency and he ran a hand on the forbidden gentleness of her leg, and she was so soft in her skin! Like fucking a young shepherdess with baby skin! On a bright summer day. Near a pond where a swan quietly remained still under a blinding sun. Then his hand met the heel of her dainty foot and as he caressed it and felt the dust on its sole, he flourished like a dying geyser inside her. Inside Nemesis! He yelled one final "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH FRGVE ME!!!" as the raging bolts of hot semen filled the girl, whose raven hair kept on their quiet, reluctant dance in a visual concert of shimmering sunlight.

Ann still felt that odious hand as he kept caressing the heel of her right foot while she kept on with her gentle cowgirl dance, under the jeers from both Captains and the sentinels, who had come closer. Another pair of soldiers, and then General Santa Anna himself, along with the fat Captain, had come along where they watched and observed the expression of horrified disgust on Consuelo's tired face as she saw the wicked joy and the air of sorry beaten dog on her father's face as he felt the ultimate drops of his relief, inside the face-down girl with that hanging mass of shadow hair.

At long last, Ann stirred and then found some unsuspected strength to get up.

"Proud of yourself now?" Ann sneered at Don de Quesada.

She then fainted as she realized she was talking to a corpse.

Consuelo stood there, standing weightless and unsure whether she should get down and cry on her father's body or stay away from a man who just raped Ann Blyth right in front of her.

General Santa Anna nodded at the sentinels, who rushed at and grabbed Consuelo, soon forcing her to bend over where one man, the most junior of the two, held her arms and kept her down and looking at the dirt, while the leading private was already dropping his light grey trousers and producing his hungry cock, for he had been another soldier late to the party and he smiled a mile wide upon the opportunity.

"Don't worry, Señorita de Quesada," the General grinned as he stooped down and put a gold coin inside her father's mouth while the leading private emitted a loud grunt as a statement of glee as he penetrated the señorita and began to pound her from behind, and followed her down as she sank on her knees, his eyes feasting on the full charms of her child-bearing hips. He had heard about Consuelo de Quesada and her beauty, but this was even better than legend had it! He was hard as a breeding bull as he kept pounding her, reveling in those shock waves of milky skin that his repeated rams kept going on her butt. Noble señorita all had incredibly white skin. The Private was happy. At last, he was having one señorita from the ruling class.

"Don't worry, Señorita, your father will have an epic funeral, a pyre! And here it is, a gold coin for the eternal ferryman!"

Each word from Santa Anna hurt her even more than those awful painful strokes that doggedly insisted inside her, where she was being used like a breeding bitch, naked and down on all fours right next to her dog-dead father.

The very last thing Don de Quesada heard as his soul departed for the Styx River was the whimpers from his daughter as the sentinel, his olive hands on her intensely white curves, took his sweet delight inside her, soon to be followed by his conpadre.

TO BE CONTINUED

[Blue]

@HistBuffGranting Don Quesada's last wish was a good idea. It certainly compensated him for all the rapes he had to witness. And even though it filled Anna with disgust, it certainly wasn't the last rape she would have to endure, was it?

[HistBuff]

@HistBuffGranting Don Quesada's last wish was a good idea. It certainly compensated him for all the rapes he had to witness. And even though it filled Anna with disgust, it certainly wasn't the last rape she would have to endure, was it?

Thanks, @Blue ! Ann Blyth is inspired by the famous actress of same name.

[HistBuff]

Consuelo was given the opportunity to "pray", near her departed father, with her bobbing frame rocked and locked to a steady pace, down on her knees, her hands flat on the ground, while receiving shocks from Captain de la Bragueta, while hearing his satisfied grunts and being spared the sight of his twist-mustached face and his arrogant expression. She took the abuse while looking down and stoically waiting for him, and possibly a couple others, to be done. Her world view was now all-encompassing now that she had fallen from the elite rank of noble señorita down to a regiment's favorite whore. She had fine fingers used to play the pianoforte, and dust on her hands and feet.

General Santa Anna himself felt like raping Consuelo again, but he didn't want to further debase himself in front of his men and officers. But he did masturbate, and once the last soldier present had dumped his load inside her, the General had the fat Captain pulling the señorita by her hair, forcing her up on her knees, just in time for Consuelo to receive a most generous load of Mexico pudding from the General, and it coated her peachy features with gloss, with a not-so-refined groan as an audible bonus.

The fat Captain followed suit and completed the glossy mask of heat on Consuelo's face by adding his own grain of salt, in the form of heartfelt shots of cake icing. He smiled wide as he watched the semen landing on her dog-tired face. Consuelo was always so pretty! He really loved the expression of despair and dejection she made when receiving those face shots. Adorable! He was going to have her sing all night long with an extended repertoire.

Now that Ann had fully consummated her union with Consuelo's father, she was pulled away by two soldiers, who turned out to be a Captain and a private. Ann remained silent and stoic as the gentlemen took their turns in having her on all fours, just like Consuelo was being had nearby. Ann saw this as an honor, in a very twisted way. She constantly moved between conflicting emotions as she received the pain from both men, whose hands on her seemed something freakishly familiar now as more strokes kept gently shaking any chance remnants of innocence out of her. When would those rapes come to an end?

The rapists themselves were getting bored and tired. Any sense of novelty had long faded; Ann could tell from the way they were using her. It was a lot less urgent, more similar to something a husband would give his wife after ten years of married life where he fucked her daily. She felt she had indeed endured the worth of ten years of sex in one fateful day. Her painful, swollen labia could attest to this.

The swirl-mustached Captain was done with watching the repeat collisions against Ann's bottom, and now that Consuelo had been used one more time as a semen dump and given to personally smell the sperm from the enemy General, the noble señorita and Ann were handed over to a group of cleaners tasked with washing all that sperm off the young ladies. Warm baths had been readied by men Consuelo suddenly recognized. Laundrymen from San Antonio, every single one of them Chinese. They all knew her! They knew Ann and her sisters too.

Mr. Yuan and his two adult sons smiled at Consuelo while their eyes surveyed her naked charms. It felt so strange for her to be naked in front of such men! Men in whose laundry joint she had been now and then, to go fetch the clean laundry and pay for their services in her father's behalf, as Consuelo liked being serviceable. This was the very first time she actually looked at them as men. What she now saw in Mr. Yuan was something positively ugly.

This man with a serene-looking face of light brown skin leaning on yellow, his features glowing under the sun and highlighted by his silver beard, was now looking at her in the same way a customer would size up a whore he just paid for. His two sons were tall for Chinese men, meaning they were average in height. Both laundry boys looked at the naked señorita the same way their father did, with something stretching the front of their jade-green trousers under their bright pineapple-yellow shirts with flowing sleeves.

All three chinks remained silent as they gestured Consuelo toward one of the bathtubs. Mr. Yuan came at her and gave her his usual businesslike nodding smile, pretending to be his humble servant as he gently led her by the hand, and his sons helped her as the poor exhausted señorita couldn't walk by herself. Soon, Consuelo felt the sons and their caressing hands upon her, then, once the foursome stood near the bathtub, Mr. Yuan suddenly grabbed Consuelo and forced her to share a lover's kiss with him!

What followed was another one of these situations where social order gets turned upside down during a catastrophic event, in this case the capture of San Antonia and Fort Alamo by Santa Anna's brigade. The poor, the beggars and the humble foreigners who serve the well-off citizens with the utmost deference, suddenly turn out to be something different, something to be feared.

Whatever was in Mr. Yuan's mind, beneath his benevolent, subservient expression whenever Señorita Consuelo de Quesada came into his humble laundry-shop, making that little bell chime at the door as she walked in with grace and dignity, wearing a dress that was a delight to see on her where her natural charms were hinted at by a thin waist and a dress that fell on her child-bearing hips, then it came out as the naked truth. Whatever his two adult sons would whisper about her, only between themselves, then it suddenly came to be! In broad daylight. General Santa Anna allowed it. He meant to punish and humiliate those folks who dared oppose him! He regretted having come too late in the inner fort, for he would have kept the last few defenders alive so he could mortify them through the defilement of their women. He had at least done so with the late Don de Quesada.

"May his ghost be kept here by devils where he can watch all the rest!" the General said aloud for himself.

Santa Anna himself along with a group of grinning officers, such as the fat Captain and the cavalry Colonel, watched while smoking and drinking, as Mr. Yuan and his two sons gave Consuelo the feel and taste of their secret-most fantasies involving her person.

Mr. Yuan kissed and played with Consuelo's tits in such a thorough way that she nearly climaxed from this alone, unwillingly and fueled by this sense of transgression. Mr. Yuan's touch was both firm and gentle. He was so sweet and loving in the way he assaulted her it was really terrifying. He was forcing her body to feel more at ease with his soothing touch, and it was raping her soul.

In some surprising ways, being forced into intimacy with Chinese men felt even more shocking than being at the hands of Negroes---Because she had never even thought about it, not even once! To her, those plum-faced men had only existed to wash her laundry and her father's. So it felt profoundly strange and fascinating, and surprisingly degrading, even more so than being subjected to the brutally terrifying experience she had with Thomas and the other Negroes. Being raped by Negroes was a señorita's worst nightmare, but this had been grimly whispered in a recess of her mind as the predictable result of a successful slave revolt, but Chinese men? They were the unknown.

Mr. Yuan ended up on top of her and fucking her tits while his two sons were respectfully waiting for their father to be done, by covering her legs and feet with their good-fortune kissing and their hands! Their hands kept caressing her legs so gently as if she were a porcelain relic, and yet those laundry boys were firm, but firm in a way she failed to describe with words. This while the father, smiling down on her with this same benevolent smile, kneaded her tits so gently, yet strongly and... and with a touch that just felt... foreign. She felt the heat from Mr. Yuan's cock, plump on her cleavage, she felt shocked to find it there where there ought to be a corset marking a respectable distance, this while the sons kept wrapping her legs and feet in a passionately foreign blanket of loving affection.

Mr. Yuan then began the sexual act itself. There was no sneering, no mocking from him. Just the pleasure of doing what he had always dreamed of doing with Señorita de Quesada, the loveliest client who had ever graced his humble joint with her dainty footsteps. At last! At last, he had tasted those lovely tits that were hinted at by her bourgeois dress, now free of any corset, free to be played with and yes, fucked! This was Mr. Yuan's favorite. He began to emit slight grunts, yet heavily loaded with never-hoped-for delight as he steadily established his groove in this tunnel of pressed tits. He loved the silkiness of her skin, almost as baby-soft as a proper Chinese girl, and the way these pastries both yielded, and the fact the one in his right hand was slightly fuller than the other one, and this whiteness of skin he was never supposed to touch...

While she was having her tits fucked, Consuelo looked at what was going on around her. Chinese laundrymen from the competing joints in San Antonio, along with old street beggars and some hobos from the city's bottom-trash---perhaps men Santa Anna had just freed from jail to press them into replacements for his dead soldiers. She and the other ladies of Fort Alamo were a signing bonus.

Ann Blyth was being mounted by some old beggar who had no teeth left and a missing forearm, and yet he twisted one arm in her back using his one remaining hand as he punished her with what was something respectable given her squealing whimpers, and her black hair formed a wide blanket where she took her first hobo deep and hard, her squealing face sliding on the harsh dirt.

Rose-Anne was having her butt kissed and licked by a man who looked like he had been dug out from a graveyard pit. Meg was under a Chinese laundryman wearing a purple shirt with his pitch-black hair arranged into a long braid that seemed intensely alive as he bobbed on along with the fury of his thrusts, Meg closing her eyes and looking away from his chink's face as he covered her rosy features with frothing slobber and branded her ears with the disgusting sound of his relief, this while another laundryman of a similar description was eagerly waiting. Mary was screaming her life out as a group of hobos of dubious character were urgently taking their turns inside her, smiling like demons as they enjoyed their small-time revenge on society.

Mrs. Dickinson was being pulled by her golden hair by another hobo who mounted her with immense fulfillment written all over his old leather face, this while the tension in her hair forced her to keep her head up, where her mouth was filled by another ruffian who knelt in front of her and brutally face-raped her while his buddy enjoyed her bottom curves the usual way, while still complaining over the fact all the younger prettier ones were already taken.

Mr. Yuan's grunting grew by a notch as he upped his pace while pressing Consuelo's tits more actively, turning back her attention to him. She spotted pearls of sweat on his forehead as his breathing further increased in depth. He was now giving full-on sweeping strokes between her pressed tits and this felt weirdly gross... and good. The constant kissing and caressing that the sons treated her legs with felt equally gross and good.

Looking to her right once again, Consuelo saw that Rose-Anne was now being bucked on all fours by that hobo whose shirt was so dirty it was dirt itself. His smile punctured a hole of joy in his dirt-crusted face as he grunted in echoes filled with the very essence of unthinkable, while Rose-Anne begged the General to have this stopped!

"Yes yes, young lady, but not before you all get punished as I see fit!" the General answered, smiling like no fiend ever did. "But don't worry, young lady, I told them to go easy on your sorry lot, knowing you're all so weak and lazy! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

As he spoke, General Santa Anna walked to the spot where Rose-Anne was getting served by the filthy hobo, her butt repeatedly forced into impactful contrasts of rolling skin against his dirty thrusts, and as he laughed, the General poured the remaining half of his glass of tequila on those Yankee buns, and the hobo hit his jackpot, looked high above at the blue sky and yelled his dazzled joy out loud for all to hear! Both his filth-crusted hands marring her curves...

"AAAA-YEEEAAAAAAAAAAAH YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!! Thank you General! I'll be your most loyal soldier!"

And with his cock spent and plopping out of Rose-Anne, the filthy hobo licked all the tequila off the fascinating vastness of her buttocks, until another hobo pushed him out of his way and proceeded to powerfully rape the young lady, and he soon had her squealing like a dying fox when he changed holes and gave her a painfully prolonged bout of anal torture, his frantic hands pressing those fun curves that used to be hidden under her Sunday dress where she sat before the sermon, by a priest whose body was now being picked up by Mexicans, and whose sacristy had been the theater of Rose-Anne's deflowering. Her naked butt curves were now being slammed against one of San Antonio's trash. This while Mrs. O'Hara was being raped with her legs propped up and pinned under the arms of a vigorous laundry chink who screamed like a whooping monkey as he filled her up with all his plum sauce, screaming, "Wou-ouhhouuuoouhh--Yeaahhh! Feels so good inside a white girl!" in Cantonese.

Mr. Yuan now heavily sweated, grunted like a rutting panda as he vigorously massaged Consuelo's tits, bringing her to the last extremity of her moral defenses against the indignity of climaxing under a chink. The silver-bearded laundryman lost his small rounded hat amid his final convulsions, grunting louder and more urgently, and then he detonated! "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNGGHH!!!"

He spewed an epic load! Ropes upon ropes that creamed Consuelo's neck, chin and her lower face with good-luck charms from the land of Confucius. Now she knew how badly he had desired her all along, how tantalizing her bosom and the rest of her dressed-up figure must have been to this humble man, usually so civil. How could she blame him? Those chinks worked so hard to keep her dresses clean! Maybe they deserved to gang-fuck a nice and well-bred señorita once in a blue moon?

Then his two sons were upon her! They gave her more opportunities to explore the notion of how badly the Chinese laundrymen had been slobbering over her and the other privileged ladies of San Antonio. In front of amused Mexicans, they bucked her like breeding studs in whatever position that first occurred---plain flat under the elder son, who said his name was Chang and he was happy to truly meet her, just before he nearly passed out from the sheer bliss of exploding inside her pain-riddled pussy. Then, powerfully from behind by the younger son, who said his name was Tong while reveling in the heated bumping her ass against him, deeply fascinated by these heavenly impacts against her, by the heart-shaped generosity of curves prompted by that same civil slimness of waist he had instantly noticed the first time he saw her. Tong did his utmost to keep going until he half-closed his eyes and surrendered to his bodily trance as he emptied the sack of his compound dreams inside the due place.

Mrs. Violet O'Hara, known in the city for fancying herself as a lady of glamorous deportment, was now groaning into a paroxysm of agony as four inmates encouraged each other to "give it deep inside her rosebud! Make her shit come out of her mouth!" as they all took turns in enjoying the incredible tightness of her rectum. And the shit remaining from her last breakfast with her now-gone husband got milked by the semen from men fresh out of jail.

***

The afternoon was growing old, with the sun going lower over the western side of Texas. General Santa Anna grinned and gave the order to give those girls the baths they needed, that enough fun was enough. But the hobos and the laundrymen didn't give the slightest sign of abating their orgy. They had been denied such extravagances for so God-damned long!

"Shall we call the guards and disperse this rabble, Your Excellency?" asked the fat Captain.

"No, not in the least, Captain Botez, not in the least. And by the way, Captain, I heard you were the first officer who made it inside the inner fort this morning. You're a Major from now on. Congratulations, Major! But do not disappoint me."

Not looking at the fat Major who nearly kissed his boots in a profusion of thank yous, General Santa Anna ordered to bring forth a pair of girls he had kept hidden up to that point.

"Captain de la Bragueta, bring forth those chink girls!"

The swirl-mustached Captain de la Bragueta, leading a squad of guards with Big Pedro as their Corporal, was all too happy to execute the order and bring forth two lovely Chinese girls he and his men had been groping while keeping them silent for quite a while.

Mr. Yuan turned ashen white as he saw his two daughters. Li and Yan, twin sisters. Wearing the dark green robes he had given them on their eighteenth New Year. He was so proud of his daughters, both hard workers who devoted themselves to their family as a proper daughter ought to. Both with luminous skin, black hair and onyx eyes like a proper Cantonese girl ought to. Those proper-girl eyes were now filled with anguish and distress.

"Now Mister Yuan," the General bellowed in plain Spanish, speaking as slow as he would to a six-year-old child. "Tell your fellow laundrymen and all the others that the party is over! Make them stop or else!"

The General grinned as he saw Mr. Yuan desperately try to stop the orgy still in full bloom. But no matter how active he was or how angry he got, Rose-Anne's face kept bobbing on from the repeated rapes from chinks and hobos, and so did all the ladies present. Even aunt Jemima was shamed and forced to copulate while her Mistress Violet kept receiving it "deep and hard inside her arse"!

Mr. Yuan's sons were no more successful in their attempts of saving their sisters' honor. They ended up getting angry and then getting beaten up by jailbird hobos.

General Santa Anna fired his pistol! The shot rung through the air. Everyone stopped.

"Now, Mr. Yuan! If you can't do a simple errand, what use do I have for you?" the General said, grinning like a devil. "If you can't obey my commands, then I'll punish you and make an example out of you! All right! The sons will be shot dead and the daughters will be raped!"

Li and Yan filled the air with piercing shrieks as the Mexican soldiers around them seized them and attacked their dresses! Mr. Yuan squealed and pleaded like a wounded dying panda as he was quickly restrained and could only watch in horror as Li and Yan were urgently made topless, their brown nipples jiggling out of their loudly torn dresses amid the shrill-screaming fracas of their dying honor, their pale tits in a striking free-moving contrast against the shreds they now had for half-dresses, amid devil-grinning soldiers, while his two sons were promptly seized by another squad of Mexicans, this one led by the fat Major, then were lined to the nearest wall and summarily shot. The fat Major checked the bodies and shot one stirring son through the head while Li and Yan kept shrieking their honor out as Captain de la Bragueta and Big Pedro finished stripping them both naked.

Mr. Yuan was a ghost of his former self as he was brought closer, where he could plainly see how the swirl-mustached officer got on top of Li while soldiers were holding her down for him and commenting on "their first time seeing a chink girl in the nude". He also saw Yan's diminutive figure nearly disappear under that enormous Corporal, who soon had the girl shrieking in pain as he broke her in.

The silver-bearded man had lost his two sons. Now he witnessed the defilement of his two daughters. General Santa Anna had known full well that the man would prove unable to stop those frenzied rapes. He had planned for this, to instill fear in his new men, to show them who he was and also for the fun of watching a couple of Chinese girls get their nakedness publicly shown and made pleasure of.

Once the Captain and the ponderous Corporal had taken their relief, came the others. The Mexicans smiled over the spotless moons Li and Yan had for a butt. The constant squealing from both girls gave added charms to their curves, added girth to the invasions inside them too. The Mexicans felt there was something profoundly fascinating in this debauchery of baby skin that was almost white. Almost. Almond white, intensified by the ink of their long silky hair. And cause enough to draw a lot of sperm from all the men.

Once the squad had passed on both daughters, Mr. Yuan was himself forced to either fuck one of his daughters or die. After he doggedly refused, the General had him seized and brought to the same spot where his son now lay, and he shared their fate.

Yan, gathering herself on the dusty ground, hugging her deep-crying sister and sharing her naked distress, watched in silent stupor as her father was summarily executed and the four-musket volley tore the air, with one definitive ball through the head four seconds later from the fat Major. Li wailed in a most pitiful cry under the slightly fading daylight, as the wayward wind carried her father's ghost to a hopefully better world. Both girls were Catholic, horrified to have seen their brothers and their father die without a confession to a priest. And they had just gravely sinned with that cheap white tramp.

Then the General pointed at Li and Yan to all the rabble he had just recruited, knowing he had to drive them hard with a carrot-and-stick discipline. He sternly ordered them to get it done with the baths for the ladies of Fort Alamo, as they had to be ready for the funerals at twilight time. He then promised them they would be allowed to have both these girls to spend the night with, and threatened to hang anyone who would think about deserting or disobeying. He was going to pay them good, in pesos or in kind.

***

Consuelo remained in a state of deep stupor the whole time a pair of hobos laughed and smiled at her as they washed her entire body, laughing louder whenever they insisted on her breasts or her buttocks, which they did often. It felt painfully nice to be fresh again, but the hands washing her were the filthiest. She felt a weird sense of sorrow for Mr. Yuan and his sons---how could she blame them? They were victims too. One day, Santa Anna and his army of pigs would pay for all this! Her thoughts returned to her dead father. She was now the head of her family. Consuelo de Quesada felt alone in the world while the ugly, teeth-missing smiling hobos washed her most thoroughly. She looked at Meg, whose naked figure graced the next tub where a pair of hobos of a similar description were washing her. She tried to smile at her, an empty smile for a damsel with empty eyes. The Blyth sisters were Consuelo's only real family left now.

The corpses had been gathered, the dead Mexicans to be buried with full military honors. The dead defenders to be burned on pyres.

One lone bugle boy stood high on a tower as he trumpeted a solemn salute for the dead as long lines of soldiers stood at attention, even saluting the falling defenders, treating those brave souls with respect and deference now that they had raped their wives and daughters and did a mighty great job of it. A lone crow added its plaintive voice to the bugle's solemn solo.

Soldiers are always calmer and better disciplined after they had what they wanted the most.



TO BE CONTINUED.

General Santa Anna writes for the Council in Mexico: ... If any of the honored members of the Council saw the character and description of the ladies that we found in Fort Alamo when we overran it, you would know first-hand why my men were so ungodly determined to capture it. They fought like lions and their gallantry is to be highly praised. As for said ladies, they were needless to say treated with all due honor and dignity.

[HistBuff]

It felt weird for Consuelo to be dressed again. And wearing that beige rose plaid dress she had last worn when Colonel James Bowie was still alive, for the General had strictly ordered her to wear that dress instead of the usual black mourning dress. She and the other wretched ladies, now dressed, felt naked in front of the men as they were kindly led outside the battered fort by a group of officers, smiling in a show of fake benevolence, who helped them walking and talked to them as if they were modern knights talking to their belles.

The twenty ladies were led, helped in their tired steps, into a far and wide field, toward the western sky, where thirteen pyres had been set. Everywhere Consuelo's eyes were met with grinning soldiers wearing those same uniforms whose jackets were turning indigo under the twilight sky.

Consuelo was helped in her walking by that same angel-face bugle boy who had been one of the very first men who raped her after that disgusting fat Captain, whom she saw walking nearby, standing stocky and tall and proud as a vain cock, his uniform flamboyant as a popinjay, his gold-rimmed shako catching the last sun rays. Shadows had got gigantic, like demonic golems, and everything facing the low sun was ablaze with pure light that tallied the weight in gold of all lives lost on that day.

Thirteen pyres had been set not far from a thicket of pecan trees whose winter-naked branches loomed in silence under a grand expanse of gathering clouds---clouds like boulders of charcoal where the sky burned in fiery oranges and tawny flames meeting with a debauchery of dusk roses for a serenade in fire and silence, with some after-world peaches and amber yellows. With tiny notes of crimson in a far-away hole of light among the moving masses of colored granite clouds.

It was as if the Devil himself was attending the pagan funerals, smoking a big cigar and drinking a fiery brandy that threw their hues on the grand assembly of clouds over the dusky horizon. The very air was filled with a fool's gold.

The Blyth sisters were not spared the sight of their father's corpse, with the horrific gash atop his balding head left by the slashing saber that had slain him. The fat Major stood proud, next to his General, his saber now sleeping inside its scabbard as he watched the four daughters collapse in the strongest signs of affliction as they began to wail and pummel their chest like pagan mourners. He told his General they looked adorable with their bare feet while doing those unscripted rites. All four sisters wore black dresses, where their hands and feet acted like earth-bound beacons of paleness.

Davy Crockett's decapitated and otherwise mutilated corpse was almost shown like a trophy to the mourning ladies before being thrown on a pyre, right next to Colonel Bowie in his final sleep.

Consuelo stood and fought to maintain her stoic dignity, a few tears rolling down onto the ground where shadows faded into the night. She saw her father's corpse and didn't know what to think, other than the presence of his corpse felt like an insult to the memory of Colonel James Bowie, who she knew would have remained gallant to the bitter end, preferring to die rather than debasing himself and becoming a slave to his carnal urges.

Mrs. Violet O'Hara was nonplussed by the final sight of her husband. She felt like a mess of confusion and needed her sturdy servant, Aunt Jemima, for support so she could stand with a simulacrum of dignity. She felt the ground under her bare feet. She felt a legion of gazes concentrated on those feet of hers, even though they were veiled under the black of her dress. The presence of her bare legs and feet underneath was known. Only her dress had dignity while she had none left, but it did nothing to stop the enemy's eagerness to make her part of their fiesta later on that night. Her head was cast down under this heavy promise of her enemy's lighthearted fun.

General Santa Anna had allowed the women to fetch their best dress, but he had given strict orders---no corsets or any other underwear were allowed, and all women were to remain barefoot. Grinning officers had helped the young ladies to get dressed, which added more humiliations in their heavy ledger. Each redone button or turn-around came with the promise of another undressing. Even Ann, the naive one, knew what their game was.

Torches had been set ablaze. The sky was darkening, the fiery golden lights painting those dark boulders of clouds had faded, bye and bye, into a delicate dusk rose that formed puffy smoky shapes up there in the west, like some fading glaze of a faint strawberry that those cloud angels devoured like spiritual sorbets, all of it fading too, into an abyss where the Devil finished his smoky cigar.

The falling night was now ruled by the blazing torches that painted make-believe lights of tawny life on the dead heroes. Ann howled like some childish banshee as enemy hands lay fire to all pyres. Soon, thirteen bonfires threw lights of bright despair on Consuelo's face, accentuating the sensuality of her light-less features as she quietly sobbed and cried over her missed wedding with James Bowie. Her eyes were the dark windows on a happiness that would never be.

Mrs. Dickinson was down on her knees, praying fervently for her husband's eternal salvation, whispering how sorry she was to have lost her honor, this while all four Blyth sisters were wailing for their beloved father, especially Rose-Anne. This while Ann was now complaining she was hungry and got slapped by Meg for being "earth bound". This while the African drummer boy gazed at Mrs. Dickinson's kneeling figure and loved how the bonfires cast their voices of visual heat on the European solemnity of her golden hair, undone, for she had been very pagan in her fits of mourning, making herself look as young as Ann in the way she had undone her buttons with her breasts half-showing.

"Ashes to ashes, clay to clay..." began Father Ronaldo Gonzales, the field priest for the Mexican brigade.

"Be silent, you pig!" Consuelo suddenly barked upon finding something or someone to vent her anger on.

Father Gonzales stood silent indeed, the fire giving his face the same polish as a leather saddle as the nearest pyre roared ablaze and sent its message of war to the heavens, murky heavens that swallowed all that blazing light in their unsubstantial vastness of black satin, nay, a dark indigo where hints of twilight survived, just like a handful of slaves who had survived the battle and the subsequent sack. Thomas with the other slaves stood by at a Mexican-prescribed distance, his strong face cast down, shoulders stooping, filled with guilt for the horrors he had done to Señorita Consuelo de Quesada, then to Milady Rose-Anne Blyth, and yet, secretly filled with a deep sense of satisfied curiosity and yes, carnal fulfillment. For he had taken a Milady without her consent and heard the music of her lamentations. Twice.

All stood in silence as the deceased's melting fat hissed in the fires. The whole ceremony pierced the black stillness of the night like a fire-ball of fiery, silent madness.

***

"Shall we kill all the women tomorrow, Your Excellency?" asked the fat Major.

"Use your head and think! And try to be a gentleman for once in your life, Captain Botez!"

The fat officer became ghastly pale as he heard himself referred to by his former rank. He was being demoted for being so stupid! General Santa Anna spoke like a bored adult having to explain once more to a child where the spoon, knife and fork go when setting the table...

"Killing women and children is something the Army of the Republic of Mexico does not do. If you fear the women will talk about how we treated them, well, shame will silence them. And everybody with an ounce of common sense knows about the unwritten customs of war. To the victor the spoils. Major, tell the men and the officers they will have full sway tonight with the captive women. They'll be free to do whatever they please, except harming them. And of course no killing or maiming. Just one good fiesta!

"But tomorrow, Major, I want everyone back to full discipline! Mark my words, Major Botez! Any slacker will hang tomorrow! You'll see to it and I hope you do a good job, if you want to retain your new rank!"

Some color had returned to the fat Major upon learning he was in fact still fat and still a Major. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but felt it would be wiser to say nothing. He produced a flask of aguardiente and offered a sip to his Excellency.

"As for the slaves," the General went on while declining the offered flask. "As for the slaves, tell the Colonel of our cavalry that he is to pick men to escort a group of eight slaves on their way to General Houston. Houston will be delighted to learn that David Crockett and James Bowie are no more, since they were his main political rivals, but his men will be demoralized by the news, utterly so. Make sure all of them are colored slaves, for they will tell Houston about the garrison having been wiped out, but nothing will transpire about the women's brutal fate, and nothing must, because knowing we were especially cruel to the women would arouse their anger and raise their spirits in a legitimate desire for vengeance."

"But... why won't they... uh..."

"Why won't the Negroes say anything about the women? Simple. If a black slave says the women were raped after the fort was overrun, this will imply that he SAW it happening. And the Yankees would hang him just for this. No Negro shall see what only a white husband has the right to see."

"Your Excellency is brilliant! A true Napoleon of the West!"

TO BE CONTINUED

[HistBuff]

General Houston's forces and situation had been greatly overestimated by Santa Anna, who thought he was in command of a force on par with him and only three or four days away from Fort Alamo. But a crack spy whose horse was famously fast would soon inform him that he had been mistaken, that all Houston had was a company of volunteers and was on his way to Gonzales, where a militia force of untrained farmers, frontier men and other civilians of all trades and descriptions was being assembled. But on the evening of March 6th, Santa Anna thought he was facing a much more formidable force. Hence his ordering the big fiesta before a stiff return to full military discipline.

Second Lieutenant Jeb Lacey was riding as fast as he could on his way east to Gonzales, but his route was riddled with dangers. Some Comanche Indians were taking advantage of the chaos and disorder brought on by war to make raids on remote settlements, where fathers and sons had to defend their homestead against those raiding savages, or else. In addition, riding on the main road to Gonzales was out of the question. Santa Anna had sent some detachments to patrol the eastern approaches and establish a safety buffer between the Mexican brigade and Houston's alleged forces. Those detachments of Mexican cavalry didn't participate to the assault on Fort Alamo. They knew that the main brigade had likely overrun the fort; they felt happy and patriotic about this probable victory of a strategic significance; they also felt bitter for missing the grand fiesta that was very likely taking place that very night. So those small cavalry detachments were not so keen to actually watch the main road and a lot keener to raid local farms and have fiestas of their own.

Harold McTavish was a proud Texan of Scottish heritage and a staunch Catholic. He now had two adult sons he was proud of and three younger daughters who were growing prettier with each passing month--all these girls had the freckled face and brown or brownish red hair that proclaimed their ancestry that reached back to the fierce clans who brewed wars and rivalries in the Highlands near the Loch Ness. Not to mention his wife, a strong country girl who had all it takes to make a farm work with some to spare for rearing children. March was seeding time. It was the time of the year shortly before the start of peak wildflower season.

He lived more than a day of riding away from San Antonio, now besieged by the Mexicans for all he knew. This greatly worried him. He didn't want to leave his home behind, but he also had to think of his family and their safety. His daughters' honor etched strong unspoken letters of fire in his mind, for he knew what those Mexican soldiers could do to the local populace. Every day he prayed for a strong Yankee force from the east, but this eventuality was but rumors. Winds of hearsay. Nothing more. If things got really bad and the Mexicans would pose an added threat to the usual risk from the Comanches, then he and his family would have to leave. Then he and his sons would have to join the militia and fight. Fight until the Mexican invaders be pushed back south of the Rio Grande. Little did he realized that for the Mexicans, the likes of him, the Yankees, were the invaders who had to be driven back to where they came from.

Alan McTavish, the younger brother, was nineteen. He had a very keen sight and was a crack shot. He now was the one who would hunt game and help putting meat on the table. His older brother Caleb was a bit lazy, but overall a sturdy farm hand. Caleb was better suited for peacetime. Alan had a sixth sense for looming threats. During the afternoon, he had seen trails in the sand only two miles from home. Those horseshoes... There was something odd. He couldn't exactly pin-point what it was, but something was just wrong. Those were clearly not Comanches since Indians rode without horseshoes, but they weren't American either. Mexicans! Mexican cavalry, right at their doorstep! His gut was telling him his family was in danger.

When he got home, Alan found his sister Janet in her usual needlework at the table. Janet was the in-between sister at fourteen; she smiled at him; they were a bit too fond of each other as morality would allow. Ethel and Denise were helping their mother in preparing dinner. Denise was the elder daughter at eighteen; a helpful girl, but one who also felt she was destined for greater things than being a farm girl. Ethel was but twelve years old, but already blossoming and almost looking like a grown girl; Ethel loved the country life and would spend days shepherding the lambs with Jupiter the farm dog, a German shepherd.

Then Alan saw his father, who quietly sat in a corner of the room, smoking a pipe and perusing the almanac for the year 1836. "Father! We need to set up a defense for tonight! There's Mexican cavalry nearby! At least six or seven of them!"

"Did you see them, son?" Harold asked, looking up from the almanac page where it said the crops would be exceptional this year.

"No, but I saw two trails left by horseshoes that looked weird and can only be Mexican!"

"Brother! You see threats everywhere!" Caleb chimed in just as he got back from the hens with a basket containing several eggs, which he laid on the table before kissing his mother good evening. Harold smiled. Caleb was a very good boy, the very first child they had who survived. At twenty-two, Caleb would soon get himself a wife and start a family of his own.

"Only two trails, son? But you said there were at least six of them!"

Alan sighed, a bit surprised that even his father didn't understand what was so plain to him. "Father, there were only two of them because these were scouts who most likely made a reconnaissance. They must have observed our home, the farm, and (he looked at Janet, his dearest sister and blocked his innermost thoughts) and the people living there, us! They sure made their report by now. I tell you, they'll be at least seven of them right here tonight. Hopefully not more than we can handle between the three of us. I swear to God, I'll shoot no less than two of them like dogs before..."

"Alan! Do not speak such profane words!" Rebecca his mother cut in. "Profane! Profane! Thou shalt not kill, says God! Amen!"

"Oh, brother, brother! I'm sure it's nothing! Probably just two travelers who lost their way and will go set camp somewhere five miles up there... And why would the Mexicans want to come here?"

"Caleb my dear brother, you're a great farmer, but you aren't of much use on military matters."

"Don't say this, little Alan! I can take you on and you know it!" bellowed Caleb, taking a stance where his massively strong shoulders added much brawn to his words, but Alan wasn't buying his antics, even though he was of a much slighter build.

"There's no time for quarreling, Caleb! You'll be a farmer and a mighty good one, but me, I'll be a soldier and hopefully a good one! The Mexicans are cavalry, very likely to belong to one of the small detachments sent out by the enemy General to keep an eye on the eastern road, because that's where General Houston and his militia will come from when he does march against Santa Anna. Fort Alamo is now besieged and will most likely fall soon, for only 150 men defending it can't hold for very long against a full brigade of two thousands. And when the fort does fall (Alan once more looked at Janet, whose long hair of a warm brown gently spoke to his unspoken dreams), when the fort gets overrun, the Mexicans there will have a fiesta. So those cavalry detachments feel they're being left out of the, uh, the festivities, so they'll be looking for farms where they can make, sorry to say, some fiestas of their own."

Janet stopped her needlework and began to tremble as she thought of what those words implied.

Denise screamed in alarm, almost dropping the platter she just had taken out of a sideboard, then shouted, "Alan! This is not funny! You can't be serious! Oohh, this dreadful country life! I can't wait for the day I'll be living in Philadelphia!"

"Denise, watch your mouth!" Rebecca thundered. "I didn't raise my daughters to be scared little rabbits who dream of becoming minks or ermines! God protects the faithful, never forget this!"

"I'm telling you, father, there's a party of about seven or eight cavalry coming our way tonight. They'll wait until we're in bed so they can take us by surprise. I must go now and run to the beaver hill. The sun's already setting. I need to go take a look up there. There with any luck I'll see those bastards coming!"

"Hey, son, be careful!"

"And you said you didn't believe me, Father, how funny! But don't worry, the beaver peak can only be reached through a small winding trail that's only known to folks from around here, so I'll be safe enough! Janet, be a good lass and keep my soup warm. I won't be long!"

On this, Alan took one of the old Brown Bess rifles and he was gone. Fast and nimble, he ran through this countryside he knew like the back of his hand. The enemy had numbers going for them, but they had lost the element of surprise and they were foreigners in a land unfamiliar to them. They would be sent back with their tails between their legs! He'll see to it!

***

"Teniente! There's a farm of berries up there, past the ford of a rivulet near a forest of sycamores and pecan trees that grow thicker upstream. Me and Esteban, we went there unobserved. There's one farmer, two grown sons, so that makes three men, Yankees all of them by the white of their skin, and there's nine of us. And there's a nice-looking wife and the grand prize---three daughters that are as fresh as a spring in April! ¡Muy bonitas!"

"¡Perfectas para nuestra fiesta, Señor Teniente!"

"¡Está bien!" replied the Lieutenant, exchanging a knowing smile with the veteran Sergeant acting as his second for the patrol. "We'll strike when we're sure they're gone to bed. They won't know what hit them! And then, then... the fiesta! The whole night, just we nine of us and those three Yankee girls! Aahh, I've longed for quite a while for those señoritas! I want to know if their skin is as white as they say!"

But then, the Lance Corporal who was on the look-out interrupted the Lieutenant amid his grinning predictions. "Teniente! Caballeros are on their way to us! Oh, they're our own! Yes, our own, red coats and shiny cuirasses!"

"God dammit!" the Lieutenant spat out. "I knew it! I knew this was too good to be true! I was passed on for promotion, I'm thirty years old and still only a Lieutenant, and then, just as I'm about to get a nice trio of fresh Yankee lily-white girls, then I'll have to share with Lieutenant Velasquez! Velasquez! Always in the wrong place at the wrong time!"

Lieutenant Diego Velasquez was much younger than Lieutenant Garcia, who looked more like a highwayman with jet-black hair who styled himself a gentleman while feeling more and more condemned to a life of toiling under superiors who had more money and connections than him, under popinjays like this Lieutenant Velasquez, who had the small twirling mustache of a rich young man who knew he'd be a Colonel before thirty-five. Perhaps even President of the Republic one of these days.

Lieutenant Garcia met his colleague, offered him tequila and showed the greatest courtesy, avoiding to patronize him, avoiding like the plague to say a word or give any hint about the Yankee farm he was about to attack that night.

"Why are there only eight of you now? Where are Alejandro and Gabriel?" Garcia inquired, proud to show his less-experienced rival that he knew each and every man in the squadron by name.

"We... We lost them... Didn't hear a shot, but we found them not only three miles from here. Both dead. Throats cut with a knife. The man who did this was headed this way, so we're giving the chase... What?!"

Some of his men had said something to Velasquez. Once he repeated, the young fortunate Lieutenant burst out in laughter.

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! So, Señor Garcia, this is what you're up to, eh? Planning to surprise attack and loot a farm, aren't you? And play with the daughters, aren't you? And you didn't want to share the spoils, eh? But hey! That man we're after... He's probably up there right now! He'll be spending the night there, so we go up there with you, and kill two birds with one stone. I want him dead! I want him alive! He killed two of my best men! I want him to die slow, to watch what we do to Yankee girls before he begs us to kill him!"

***

Jeb's hands were shaking. This was the first time he killed a man face to face. But he had no choice. Those two men were close to the rest of their group and he had to get the hell out of that creek. He had caught them from behind while they were taking a piss. The first one looked young and was handsome, most likely a son whose parents were immensely proud of. His "James Bowie" knife--the sharp knife with a blade from Sheffield that his Colonel had given him as a parting gift--Jeb's Bowie knife had ended the young man's life before the poor fellow realized it, with piss heat on his legs as he fell with a thud next to his fallen shako with that hated red white green cocard on its top.

The second man, older, was opening his mouth and making a hole of terror in his beard as Jeb pressed a silencing hand on his face, seeing the fright in his eyes as he pinned him against a large oak and pierced his stomach with that Sheffield knife, then stabbed him all the way through his gullet for good measure. Success! He had killed both foes silently, then he quickly refilled his canteen while letting his horse drink some from that rivulet before going off silently, soon riding off there as if fiends of the Pit were after him. Success. At what cost? His hands were trembling! War was dirty. As he rode on, his thoughts drifted to Consuelo de Quesada.

"Take care of her, marry her if anything happens to me," James Bowie had told him upon his leaving Fort Alamo under the night's cover. "Marry her and make her happy, Jeb. You're the best man a girl may hope for." Both he and James himself knew James Bowie would die before sunset. James made him promise on his life as he gave him his knife. There was this mix of moral righteousness and jealousy in James' eyes as they parted. Jeb would be blessed indeed if he made it out of this war alive and did marry Consuelo.

He'd always remember the day he had first seen her. She was in her room packing her things to accompany her father to Fort Alamo, refusing to leave and saying she had the duty to attend to the wounded men or even help in reloading muskets, anything to be useful and perhaps help giving the garrison a faint light of hope. On that day, she was going into a most violent and warlike siege, most likely on the losing side, and yet she exhibited an air of carefree good humor that was just like the dress and the shawl she wore--a moss-green dress with a shawl that belonged in a fancy boudoir. He instantly became her suitor.



"Consuelo! I'm going to marry you and look after you before this is over! I promise! Whatever... Whatever happens, I swear to God!" Jeb whispered as he rode on, urging his horse to teach him the meaning of haste. The poor animal was nearly exhausted after so many hours of riding, but he had to haste on, feeling that the Mexican patrol was after him. Their horses were fresher than his. They were going to catch up with him, led by the trails he left. He forded a couple of rivulets, but this wasn't nearly enough. His only chance was to find farms and rise a posse to fight off those sun-baked sons of a gun, or else hide in some woods, but then his predicament would be nearly hopeless. Better to find farms and men to help him.

Jeb found a farm by sunset; he saw one young man going out the door and running like one who knew where he was going, and there was a powerful sense of urgency in his steps. This was close to the spot where his pursuers would be camping. Too close! He had to warn those folks!

As he knocked on the door, Jeb was met with two loaded Brown Bess muskets! A father and his broad-shouldered son. Farmers who couldn't really shoot in battle, but who sure as hell couldn't miss from point-blank.

"I... I'm Lieutenant Jeb Lacey! I rode fast from Fort Alamo! I'm bearing news for General Houston."

As he spoke with a true Yankee English, the tension was gone and both men had lowered their guns.

"I'm on my way to..." then Jeb stopped speaking as his eyes met Janet's. Something happened between them. Something that usually lead to a wedding soon after. Janet blushed and pretended to turn herself into her needlework.

Harold McTavish made the introductions and nearly ordered the young officer--wearing civilian clothes--to stay for supper and the night.

"I'm very sorry to say, Sir, but you and your family are in grave danger. I must help you defend your home. My pursuers are nearby and they..."

"Pursuers? Then Alan was right! Mexicans are here!" Harold said.

"Alan, is that the young man I saw running to some place just before I rode in here?"

"Yes, Alan my son, precisely so. He saw two fresh horse trails with what looked like Mexican horseshoes. He was right!"

"Wh-where did he spot those trails?"

"Oh, I'd say two miles from here, to the south-west."

"South west? Then..."

"Then what?" the father asked.

Jeb looked at that girl who sat at the table doing her needlework, with her two sisters standing in the background, the younger one singing some lullaby.

"Then, nothing, my, my pursuers..." Jeb replied, trying not to show how alarmed he was. But Harold noticed. He turned ghastly pale and looked at his three beautiful daughters.

"We... we'll prepare our defense! They won't... I won't let them..." Harold said.

He knew. Jeb knew. Those two horse trails were from men from another patrol, meaning there were two groups of enemy soldiers now--his own pursuers, then another ten-man detachment. About eighteen men! This farm was doomed as there was no way on earth he and this man and his sons--four men overall--could hope to fend off so many attackers. Unless...

"Do you have neighbors close by?"

"I'm afraid not. The Stapletons live a good six miles from here, and then the..."

"Then you must go there at once! And the Stapletons must go to their nearest neighbors! We need to be at least nine or ten men to have a fighting chance!"

One of the girls, sensing the tension in the air, threw a frantic fit of alarmed screams. "No! Noo! No! Not this! This will come to this! I... I will die! Aaah aaaaaah aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!"

"Denise, Denise! Calm down Denise my dear!" Rebecca whispered as she took her crying daughter in her arms, while her younger daughter stopped singing her childish lullaby and looked at Denise with a puzzled expression.

"Father! Father! We must barricade the door at once and make our stand! They're coming!" Alan said, utterly out of breath after running as fast as he could from the beaver peak. "They're coming! Fifteen of them! Fifteen if not more! Two officers! I saw them in the fading twilight. They're so sure of their numbers that they're coming straight at us!"

Denise and Janet filled the log house with shrill screams of panic while their mother tried her best to keep her composure and calm them down, while trembling herself, while her twelve-year daughter kept looking at her sisters, puzzled, standing near her large dog she had just been playing with. The men had to yell to understand each other.

Alan knelt near his youngest sister.

"Ethel! Take Jupiter with you and run! Run to the Stapletons and tell Mr. Stapleton he and his wife must go at once! You must go to the Powell farm, and there Mr. Powell and his four sons will look after you."

"Why can't we all leave at once?" Caleb inquired.

"It's too late for that! Ethel can run fast and into the forest, but we and the women? The enemy will catch us and encircle us! No, we must make our stand here," Alan replied. "Take your muskets. Mother and Denise will reload for you. Me and this man, we'll go outside and take positions where we can cut them down and even out the odds. Janet will come with us and reload for us. Now!"

Before his father could say anything, Alan had nodded to Jeb and both men were outside, Janet following them with a pouch of musket balls and a horn of powder. Alan had instantly noticed Jeb was most likely a man who had had a taste of war, the best help he could get for any hope to make the miracle happen. The moon was still almost full and the sky was mostly clear, with masses of dark clouds to the west. The moon would rise before long. Then it would be easy to pick up their two officers and shoot them dead.

"I'm Jeb Lacy by the way!" Jeb said as both men took their position on a ridge about forty yards away from the house, a place where he and his new companion would shoot while mostly hidden by some shrubs. Janet was right behind them with the munitions.

"I wager you know how to recognize their officers, Mr. Lacey?"

"I recon you can too. I have one rifle and three pistols. After I fire my rifle, I'll move there to the left and fire my first pistol while Janet reloads, then move a bit more and fire the others, so we let them think there's more of us. Maybe they'll get scared."

"Let's hope so, but I... Well, let's pray this works. Here they come! I hear the hooves! Janet, stay calm sister, we need you to reload."

Jeb was greatly rejoiced to see his hands were no longer trembling now that he was about to fight what could be his very last fight. He thought of Consuelo again and felt an immense wave of sorrow as he realized that the fort must have fallen earlier that day and she was most certainly in enemy hands now. He suddenly experienced an unexpected surge of arousal as his mind's eye saw Consuelo wearing her delicate plaid dusk-rose dress, screaming amid a group of jeering Mexicans just as their vile hands ripped her dress-top open and her breasts were suddenly right there, naked and floating in a splendor of noble-white skin with the wine of forbidden nipples. Then all thinking was banned as the Mexican cavalry troop was there!

Two musket shots were heard from the house. No groan from any enemy who got hit.

"Dammit, they fired way too soon! Farmers!" Alan cursed low between his teeth as he looked for and found one officer. "Sorry father, didn't mean to offend..."

The other officer was spotted as plain as day in spite of the falling night. He had his saber out and a pistol in his other hand. He gave the loud order to attack and wipe out the vermin so he could have his fiesta...

Jeb fired his rifle and Lieutenant Velasquez's dream of being a Colonel before thirty-five exploded as his shako fell and his head got blown out of proportion. And this was a humongous inflated head to begin with. Two nearby soldiers became ashen white as they couldn't believe how much blood could gush out of just one head, but they were battle-hardened veterans and they fired their muskets at one of the house's small windows where-from the first shots had come.

The Sergeant saw Teniente Garcia fall without a sound as a ball went right through his heart. He cursed, put one knee down, and as he ordered five men to go through bushes out on the right side to flank those crack shooters, he quickly used his bayonet to rip off his white epaulets, cursing about the Mexican Army's stupidity to refuse just using chevrons to tell a Sergeant from a private. One pistol shot tore the night, a bit farther from where both shots had been fired of.

"Charge! Charge forward you shit-heads!" the Sergeant ordered to the rest of the men, pointing at the house.

That's when Alan spotted him as the surviving leader. Jeb fired his two remaining pistols from another position. As they heard those shots, the men about to charge forward hesitated. There were more Yankees than expected!

Another shot went off. The Sergeant fell while Alan gave his warm rifle to Janet, who began to reload as fast as she could while Alan took a Brown Bess musket, he aimed true at a Corporal, but the lucky bastard moved at the very last moment and he missed and cursed. Jeb came back and got back his loaded rifle from Janet.

"There are a few men coming our way! We must retreat and get to a good firing position for them."

"But the house! The house!" Janet squealed as she saw nearly ten soldiers were now charging the house.

"I'm sorry sister, but there's too many of them! We must do as Jeb says and find another position to fight those men from. I'm sorry, come!"

"Father! Mother!" Janet shouted as she burst in tears. Alan slapped her.

"Janet! Be strong! We need you strong! Come now!"

At the house, one soldier was holding his wounded shoulder, while two Lance Corporals led and all-out assault on the house, the prospect of getting their hands on Yankee girls proving stronger than their fear of more enemy than expected, while the Corporal, now in command, remained behind under cover after he heard a ball whiz past his head; this was close! He felt a deep, spine-chilling fright as his gaze met Garcia and Velasquez; both officers as dead as a door nail. He had been so close to sharing their fate! But his sense of duty made him go forward to lead his men and take the house. If more enemies came, he'd feel safer inside the house.

Caleb fired another shot and scored another miss. Both Rebecca and Denise were reloading with trembling hands, realizing there were too many of the enemy. Denise was silently crying as she put the powder in the Brown Bess by the barrel, then Harold was about to fire, but two men thrusted their bayoneted muskets like spears through the window beside him, causing Caleb to recoil and then he grabbed one enemy musket by the barrel, while a third man fired right at Caleb through that same window, and Caleb staggered and fell. Harold, through his own window, fired at that third man and shot him, but he made an easy target with his head out of the window. The Corporal and two others shot Harold and got him in the torso.

A sturdy piece of timber made the front door complain and the whole house tremble, and especially so with the sideboard used to barricade the door, as a party of four men used this makeshift battering ram in order to gain entry, while Denise knelt by her brother Caleb, who held her hands and whispered "I love you, Denise!" his dying gaze on her bosom as he took his last breath, while Rebecca knelt down and kissed the cheek of her ghastly-pale husband.

Then, Mexicans trained their muskets through the small windows and ordered both women to surrender, just as the door caved in and gave way to the repeated and urgent rams from the crude timber. The sideboard had recoiled and was easily tossed aside as the soldiers invited themselves in.

Soon, the house was filled with soul-tearing screams of terror from Denise and Rebecca as the house was overrun.

Alan put a pressing hand on Janet's mouth, silencing her crying wails as she heard the screams from the house and knew it was over. Why them and not her? Such a loving mother who didn't deserve this. Denise, so delicate and always saying she was called to a better life...

Upon hearing the female screaming, the five-man party who had been sent through the bushes to take out the Yankee marksmen decided they liked to live and felt it was a lot wiser, although cowardly, to just fall back and join the fiesta inside the house.

Jeb and Alan soon understood that no one was after them. They figured out that the party who had been after them had gone back to the house.

"But Alan! We can't leave them! Alan!" Janet pleaded amid tears. "Denise! Mother! We just can't..."

"There's still at least twelve of them, Janet, and only two of us! Janet, get your senses back together and come with us, quick!"

"It would be far too dangerous to go back for the horses and supplies. We'll have to go on foot," Jeb said as he strapped his loaded rifle on his shoulder and took a sip from his canteen before offering some to Janet. They had to go and warn the Stapletons. Ethel was hopefully already there and safe with Jupiter. Jeb and Alan would lead anyone who wanted to go and reach Gonzales. And this would be a dangerous road. Mexican patrols. Comanches too. It looked and felt like the big deck of cards was stacked against America and the Land of the Free.

***

In the house, the predictable aftermath was already in full sway. Both Lance Corporals and one Corporal were now in the lead of a group of fourteen men, two of them wounded. Look-outs were picked among the most junior privates and ordered to keep an eye out for any more enemy.

"And don't worry, boys!" the Corporal added. "They'll be some girl meat enough left for you!"

Then the Corporal turned to Denise, who kept shrieking and screaming and writhing with two sturdy Mexicans restraining her, grinning at her and her bosom where her dress hugged her graceful shapes.

Caleb was dead. Harold wasn't so lucky. They had noticed he was still living. Weak, but alive. One soldier with Native blood written all over his dark-mahogany face laughed as he quickly restrained his wrists with rope.

"Now, Yankee, now you watch how we gonna rape your wife and your daughter!"

"Light up some extra candles, the show will be worth it!"

"Madre de Dios! This one will make a fine whore in Chihuahua!" the Corporal said as he gently stroked Denise's dark auburn hair.

"Don't you dare touch her!" Rebecca thundered before a bandit-looking private punched her through the stomach.

As she tried to catch her breath, Rebecca was brutally slammed head-down on the table, which men wiped clear of any tin cups and utensils as the wife was bent over the table and firmly restrained while a Lance Corporal was already undoing his white trousers, his cuirass catching the reflection of Denise as she screamed, "Mother!!!"

With tears in his eyes, Harold cursed fate for not letting him die immediately like Caleb. He had to hear the tearing shrieks of his wife Rebecca as the cavalrymen crudely bunched her dress up while restraining her flat on the table, with her face turned toward her husband. "I love you!" her lips said silently before she screamed in pain as the Lance Corporal entered inside her, grabbed her waist and began to enjoy the fruits of his hard-won victory in a concert of loud, urgent grunting as his lone unfringed white epaulet followed suit with his demented motions as he looked like one man trying to rape the wife so deep his semen would come right through her and drip down her mouth. His adrenaline-fed erection quickly reached the boiling point. His eyes changed. His legs got suddenly weak.

"Aaaaaaaaaahh NNoooooooo! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Denise shrieked, her blue eyes lost in a forest of grinning brigands as they tore the front of her dress and found she was wearing but a simple front-laced corset, loose for comfort like most country girls preferred to wear on most days.

"This one is too pretty, Corporal. Let's strip her naked!"

"Yes, she's so white! Like a royal lady!"

"You strip her naked all you want after I'm done with her! Hrrr!"

And as he spoke, the Corporal forced his lips on Denise's and stole her first-kiss experience from her. Denise had never had any boy in her life, nothing ever serious enough for this. Something was torn away from her, never to come back. Then the leader, his one white epaulet showing the fringes of his command, pushed her against the wall, grabbed her dress and bunched it up, all the way against her waist as he told the nearest men to hold her for him. Catcalls and whistles welcomed the white-skin show of her legs while Denise shrieked her life out and her mother was being raped face down on the table with a savage beat. Denise then met her father's gaze and her heart truly melt into ashen water as she realized he was still alive. And he was going to see THIS!

"AAAAAAAAAAHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNHhh..." was the Lance Corporal's statement of barbaric enjoyment as he emptied his balls inside the mother. The next man took his turn right away! The rush of the battle had turned the soldiers into beasts who had to fuck right now.

The Corporal undid his trousers, hurriedly so, and Denise screamed as if they were burning her face with a red-hot poker, upon seeing a man's thing for the first time in her life.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" the father eked out as he witnessed the horror. He suddenly realized that something inside him wanted to remain alive and see his daughter naked with that luminous skin of hers. Harold had once chanced to see Denise naked when she had gone to a nearby creek for a swim and thought she was alone; that night, Harold had been unable not to think of his own daughter naked under the sun, and he had experienced one gigantic beast of a relief inside Rebecca.

The Corporal pinned Denise against the log wall and pushed against her tight entrance while she shrieked, "Noo! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO NOOOO Please I want to be a lady in Philadelphia! PHI-LADELPHIA NOOAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!"

She squirmed and writhed frantically and both men holding her had to strain to keep her adrenaline-strong body from breaking away. The Corporal had forced her legs wide apart using one knee, but he couldn't get inside her as she twisted and squirmed way too much, keeping her legs now glued together and accidentally giving a most erotic show of bent legs and ankle-high shoes with a pair of dark socks covering her legs up to her knees, making her thighs intensely white against the dark red of her usual dress. This while her mother was being raped on the table with a steady beat by privates.

"You dirty little tramp! Hnnn!!!" the Corporal thundered as he slapped her with anger.

"AAAWWW!"

Denise fell to the floor, where she was immediately grabbed by no less than three cavalrymen.

"All right, strip her naked and we'll take our turns from behind. I think I'll have her ass!" the Corporal hollered as he removed his cuirass to feel more at ease for this softer side of his occupation.

Denise filled the house with glass-shattering shrieks as the soldiers used a knife and made short work of her corset. Her father watched and felt vile and guilty upon experiencing arousal as the Mexicans swiftly tore her dress and her petticoat off her, revealing her pure Scottish beauty in a show of skin bathed by the golden light of oil lamps. All men in the group became hard as a breeding bull as the daughter lay naked on the floor, wailing in heart-breaking sobs as she wanted to hide her sex, but the jeering brutes held her wrists while playing with her breasts, the dark triangle of her hairy intimacy in plain sight between legs that belonged in a fairy tale, and one man, rejoicing with a scarred face and missing teeth, put the finishing touch by slashing the laces of her shoes with a knife before leaving her barefoot.

Denise was just as nude as a nude model for a painting. The crease of her cream-white hips promised of intense pleasures. Catcalls and whistles rained down on her as her new state of defilement took all wind out of her. Her father looked at her through the veil of his suffering as his shameful arousal made him want, desperately want to stay alive. Another private died inside his wife.

"O Lord All Mighty! Why did you let us down! Why? Why..." Rebecca cried out, her lips trembling as her Catholic beliefs were challenged by her own suffering, but more so by the sight of her beautiful Denise naked amid those pigs. How could God let this happen?

"It's really nice of you to let us use your wife!" the private said as he pulled out of sobbing Rebecca, who then got pulled by the hair and forced to watch as her elder daughter was forced by grinning men to remain on all fours as their leader knelt behind her, holding his eager cock like some branch of power, a scepter of carnal authority that got nearer and nearer the forbidden curves of Denise.

"Don't you dare touch my daughter!" Rebecca shouted out of maternal instinct, knowing full well those soldiers didn't understand her English anyway.

Harold looked on as the penetration occurred and Denise let out a shriek of anguish, suffering, shame, guilt and something else, all rolled into one as the brutish Corporal took her naked waist and began to punch his hungry staff inside her, each stroke destroying her virginity as she was forced to collide against the enemy who now took what he came for.

"It's really nice of you to let us use your daughter, Señor!" the same private told Harold with a smile illuminating his sun-tanned face. Harold understood enough Spanish to feel the sting of his mockery, alas.

The Corporal fully enjoyed the ride as he mounted the naked daughter from behind, the slapping sounds of their quick-repeated collisions filling the air as he soon reached his point of unblinking delight... Denise wailed and kept protesting she was a lady who was going to Philadelphia. She had always wished to sit on some chic canapé in a fashionable salon in Philly, but now her ass was cushioning the urgent strokes from an unwashed, illiterate peasant who took her virtue.

"¡Oh sí! ¡Sí! ... ¡Sí! ¡Oh, tan bueno! ¡Tan bueno!" uttered the Corporal, now sweating and panting as he tossed his shako down on the floor and began to utter an increasingly loud and urgent string of grunts, and then he looked all the way up and screamed his bliss as the raging ropes of jism got lost inside the sobbing girl.

"¡AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH, TAN BUENOO!"

After the Corporal came all the others. The Corporal had found Denise so gorgeous in the nude and he was such a good Catholic that he had--as he just realized--taken her as God intended and forgotten to sodomize her as he intended. Corporal Perez signed himself and praised the Lord for keeping him from this vile temptation. He then produced a flask of aguardiente and drank, feeling he had won the reward of a swig through his virtuous abstinence from sodomy.

Matteo used to be a burglar before getting offered an early release from jail if he served under the red, white and green flag. They even gave him back the horse he had stolen and he joined the cavalry since he was a natural-born rider. He wore the red coat of the 7th Cavalry Regiment, from Chihuahua, but his thief's instincts had never left him. After risking his life and enjoying a round of well-deserved fun inside the daughter, Matteo looked for and quickly found the family's hidden fortune--seven gold coins and more than a few silver dollars!

By the stove a small circle of satisfied cavalrymen were devouring the lamb leg and potatoes that had been intended for the family who had now lost everything. Drinking their beer too.

No more men raped the mother. Rebecca was restrained by her red hair and forced to "enjoy the show" as one by one, all the men in the group mounted Denise from behind and took their pleasure. They kept commenting her beauty, especially her ass.

"Too bad the other daughters have escaped our love! I saw them and they are really lovely, but well, this one ain't too shabby! Hrrrrr!" Esteban said as he forced his entry inside the squealing girl and began to pound her, truly enjoying those waves of repeated shocks on her flesh, holding her fairy-tale butt and looking at the lines of her legs and feet as she groaned and groaned on with each one of his thrusts, now resting her weight on her elbows to spare her bruised knees on that wooden floor, and with her face sliding, she whimpered on as yet another soldier relieved himself inside her. She hated them beyond words.

"I'm a lady, in Phi-la-delphia... A lady... Philadelphia..." Denise repeated on and on amid the grim music of her groans and whimpers while the next man pounded her until he too gave her his sperm. The rapes were urgent and brief as the battle fought had filled the men with the urgent rush to relief themselves. They screamed, almost in pain, when the relief came. Two of them had the impudence of being half-Natives with the mahogany faces showing it. This further fucked her Philadelphia dreams of glamor out of her.

"We're really setting her record straight!" the Corporal grinned as he drank a beer, courtesy of his hosts.

Denise, her voice broken, begged them to please have mercy when she felt the anal invasion. The tenth man, or was it the eleventh, had decided to sodomize her hard and good! He was a strong young man who had raped Rebecca. Now, he said, it was time for him to try out the daughter and compare. And Denise was thus offered the honor to learn the true meaning of pain as her rectum was brutally forced open and she soon felt they were impaling her using a timber!

"Yes! Let's compare! Let's compare!" said a group of five or six young men who grabbed Rebecca and tore her dress from her in all urgency.

Harold didn't witness the dishonorable stripping of his wife. Iris the merciful had been dispatched from heaven and with her divinely sharp falchion, the goddess of the rainbow cut the thread of his life and welcomed him to the after-world by kneeling at his feet and taking his cock inside her mouth--Harold felt through her tongue and the tight pressure of her mouth that Iris often felt lonely and longing for the touch of a mortal man. She sometimes did some of Atropos's work, when she wanted to fuck.

"You can shoot your jism all over my face if you like, dear mortal!" Iris said while honoring his manhood with long, hot tongue strokes as Harold realized he was having his very last dream before being truly gone. Iris was so beautiful with her jet-black hair! He stroked those long strands of darkness as she passionately sealed her mouth around his hard cock and worked his full length! He sometimes felt the tip of her nose, that straight nose that seemed to prolong her forehead, just like the statue of an antique Greek girl he had seen once when he was very young. She wore a very interesting armor of a curious metal and he realized it was bronze. "After you bathe my face with your sperm, will you please help me out of this armor and kiss me everywhere? I want you to cross the Styx River a happy man, so please make me happy! You're so brave and strong! Oh, I love Scottish men, they're my soft spot. And yes, you may take off my sandals right now, I see you keep looking at my feet..."

The Lance Corporal and the four privates couldn't believe their eyes as they completely stripped Rebecca naked and discovered the whole of her Gaelic heritage, complete with biblical-fiery hair and a bush of auburn hair between her legs! Those legs caused men to grow hard again. They made her lie down on the table with her legs half bent, and each man touched and looked at the regions of her he liked the most, be it her breasts, the fullness of her hips or the seldom-seen sensuality of her bare feet. One private began to rub his cock against her superbly white feet and he ended up pressuring his cock between both feet, using them as a fuck place until he yelped as if struck by a fit of pain. Rebecca felt the vile heat and stickiness on her feet and knew for sure what just happened.

After a complete tour of Rebecca's body, the Lance Corporal saw that yet another man just shot his load inside the daughter, who was still getting raped on her knees and elbows like the Yankee bitch she was.

"Bring the young one here and take the mother on the floor!" Lance Corporal Rodriguez commanded, his cock once more ready to go. Moments later, he took a tour of Denise's body, taking the time to suck her tits, which he found to be the size he licked best. The girl just kept mumbling some nonsense in English he didn't understand.

"We must hurry and get gone!" the Corporal said. "The men who fled may come back with a group of local men!"

"All right, Corporal. I'll... I'll-haaahhh Madre de Dios!" Rodriguez uttered as he penetrated Denise on the table, with her legs propped up. Rodriguez was the tallest man and felt very comfortable in this position, standing up with the girl's feet on either side of his face. Those feet! Lovely pair of girly feet that caused him to swell prodigiously inside her.

Rodriguez began to slowly pound the daughter, his eyes drinking her nakedness, especially the moving softness of her breasts and trying to decide whether her nipples and areolas were raspberry rose leaning on brown or light brown leaning on the raspberry rose. They jiggled like a song from the gods.

"I'm a... lady... Philadelphia... Fashionable... I... I wanna learn French... go to Paris..." Denise kept mumbling, her head gently bobbing along with the strokes she kept receiving down there, her legs propped up and resting on that man's chest, where she felt the enemy uniform directly against her skin, where she felt his vile touch on her! He held the most fleshy part of her thighs, or the less slim, and kept punching her Philadelphia dreams out of her. Until he trembled from head to toe, lost a great deal of frothing slobber out of his fun-open mouth and uttered a burst of indistinct sounds that got muffled in the vast alarm of his body, overwhelmed with an eruption of joy as he shot long ropes of semen to fertilize her.

She was then brought down upon the floor, face up and found herself amid a heated group of men who played with their cocks as if their eternal salvation depended on how hard and hardy they ran their hands along those cocks. She screamed in great alarm as her numbed mind realized what their game was. Just as the first man came! Plump on her breasts. Then left and right came small geysers that gave her the heat of Mexico on her face. Pungent. Sticky. She knew her father was dead when she saw his body. And through her tears, she was shocked to notice a faint smile of joy on his still face.

Then she closed her eyes and made the bitter expression of a girl who just swallowed a bite of soap as one big load landed right smack on her pretty face, with one loud beast of a groan to boot.

"Ahhh heyyeeahh! Yankee girl! ¡Aquí tiene!" uttered another man as he relieved himself on her belly.

"¡Aquí tiene, señorita! ¡Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!" she heard another one groan as he plentifully tried to fertilize her legs.

"¡Aquí tiene!" said one more who went for the wide valley between her breasts, where she felt his unholy heat.

"¡Aquí tiene!" (Here you go!) repeated the same private who had sodomized her, as he erupted on her feet and ankles. Why did he have so much?!

"¡Abre la boca!" ordered the Corporal as he grabbed the sensual red-brown of her hair and forced her up on her knees. "¡La boca! ¡Abre!"

Denise heard the threat in his voice and understood enough Spanish to instantly obey and she opened her mouth while the enemy leader kept his painful hold on her hair and masturbated, frowning down at her with his battle-crazy eyes. No, she didn't want to anger him! She wanted to survive. To survive and maybe, yes maybe go, somehow, to Philadelphia.

Enjoying the plunging view on her sperm-coated breasts, the Corporal loved her expression of terrified submission with a touch of indignation in her eyes. Blue eyes. With a sperm-coated face. With freckles around her nose. His masturbatory fury came to full fruition and as he groaned hard and sounded as if he just got shot, Denise McTavish was fully Mexicanized, with an overflow of sludge dripping down on her chin, as the Corporal forced her mouth shut and she had to drink his sperm.

"¡Está bien!" the Corporal commanded as he let Denise fall like a lifeless heap on the floor. "Get the daughter and her mother dressed and let's go! We're leaving!"

TO BE CONTINUED.

[Naor2a]

Hi HisBuff
I really love your stories!
Por Caleb, he passend away without knowing how it is to fuck a Girl and without witness of one or More Tapes
I hope, his brother will be a witness of the defloration of his sisters, I am looking forward

[HistBuff]

Hi HisBuff
I really love your stories!
Por Caleb, he passend away without knowing how it is to fuck a Girl and without witness of one or More Tapes
I hope, his brother will be a witness of the defloration of his sisters, I am looking forward

Thanks, @Naor2a !
Caleb suffers the typical fate of bad shooters in a western. And yes, damned religion! Thou shalt not fuck before marriage, says a priest whose activities are sometimes questionable.

The problem with the younger sisters is I cast them as underage characters, and this is why I took care in getting them out of the house before the spicy stuff, because this site has rules. Once a girl is said to be 17 or under, then she can't be touched. She can't even witness anything sexual. This has nothing to do with my preferences. I want this site to go on. However, Consuelo is 18 and it's strange how her social status ages her up a bit, but her body is just as nubile as most girls around that age. Same for the Blyth sisters, and Ann is very short and small. One of my basic principles says "Small girl, big load".

[HistBuff]

Consuelo was hungry, and yet she didn't feel like eating, since she sat opposite to General Santa Anna, a pig of a man she loathed while officers around her kept kindly offering her wine and encouraging her to eat something. They behaved in a very civilized manner at this table of honor, but Consuelo, of course, knew all too well this was but a facade that masked their true nature. Most men become brigands and savages during war, this much she knew now. Mrs. Dickinson sat beside her, with her head cast down as she quietly ate her beans.

The General's table was the only one indoors. As the weather was not so chilling and quite forgiving for the time of the year, the rest of the soldiers were having a banquet under the starry sky. There was music and ballads, for the General had taken care to bring fine singers and musicians from Mexico, knowing this goes a long way in keeping the troops happy. He had only brought male singers.



The soldiers ate together, missing the Yankee ladies very much.

However, Li and Yan her twin sister were being quietly gang-raped outside the fort, near the pyres' dying embers, by hobos who had beaten up, and killed some of, the Chinese men from other laundry joints who had tried to defend them, and now their leathery ugliness further terrorized the girls. Some soldiers came out to watch those two girls getting gang-fucked by the dregs of society; "little plum-face tramps" or "chinks", the soldiers called them. A few soldiers joined those grim festivities and learned what it felt like to kiss the surprisingly pale buttocks of a squealing Chinese girl; they learned how dark their brown nipples looked against that wonderful pale skin, and how tight they really were; a dream come true when they relieved themselves. However, the greater number of those half-drunk soldiers decided to go in town and see if there were any girls there to gang-fuck.

As for the ladies of El Alamo, the General had ordered them to be locked inside cells where they'd be served their food by young drummer boys he knew would obey his instructions not to harm the girls in any way. The cells were guarded by sodomites, who on this occasion acted like Mexican-uniformed eunuchs guarding a harem. And yet some of the bugle boys and drummer lads felt like relieving themselves, eyeing the Blyth sisters and Mrs. O'Hara with surprising ferocity for boys so young, but they were firmly opposed by an equal number of their peers, who adamantly stated that the General's orders were what they were. Fisticuffs erupted over the matter, but the Corporal in charge of the sodomites had his men separate the belligerents and went for a compromise that could turn out very demanding and costly for Mrs. O'Hara.

Aunt Jemima saw the influx of ten drummer/bugle boys who came straight at the cell she shared with her Milady, whom she loved as if she were her own child. The said boys thought they would easily put the portly slave out of the way, but they were greatly mistaken! Jemima was a big strong woman who was just as strong as a grown man, and now she'd had enough.

The cell door was too small for more than one boy at a time, and the Corporal and several of his fellow sodomites had a good laugh as they watched one boy after the other get punched and slapped or sent flying like a cry-baby doll! Those boys were small and no match for the big black woman who fought like a lioness protecting her family.

In the Blyth's cell, Ann ate nearly all her sister's supper as none of them felt like eating anything. Rose-Anne sat on a bench and aimlessly rocked her torso in gentle motions, crying without tears as the full meaning of her ordeal came crashing down on her. Meg and Mary hugged each other and sometimes kissed and comforted one another, while Ann ate. Sodomites were watching through the bars and commenting about "so much food for such a small girl".

"Hey, Diego, I like girls too. Don't you like them too?"

"Well, Luis, if the girl is pretty enough, I might want to try out and see how tight her little ass really is."

"Diego, do you guess what I think you're thinking? I mean we'll all go burn in hell after our death, so why not have a bit more fun while we can?"

Luis had made a solid philosophical argument that gained traction among his peers. The complicit sodomites present quickly turned the key and opened the cell, and soon enough, the cell was filled with cries and "leave us alone!" pleas from all four sisters.

"Which one?" Diego said.

"I really like the small girl."

"She's full of food. Do you want to have to clean up the cell after? You know we must erase all evidence. We're not supposed to do this!" Diego replied.

"Please, please, we're exhausted!" Meg pleaded for her crying sisters.

"What do you think of this one, Luis? She's really pretty with superb skin! Her butt must be very fun to explore!"

The other men with them grinned as they seized Meg and promptly removed her dress with fast efficiency, making the treasures of her youth come out of the black dress like a burst of light while taking great care not to damage it since they were actively disobeying the General's orders and risked a flogging. Rose-Anne and Mary feebly stood up and tried to rescue their elder sister, but the men easily grabbed them, and one of them began to grope Rose-Anne, exploring the notion of trying out sex with a girl. Why not? This could be interesting!

So it came to be that while the others watched or held Meg and Rose-Anne for their conpadres, the said conpadres had Meg bent over, where the generous smallness of her buttocks blew their cocks out of proportion, and Diego coated his appendix with slobber and soon had Meg using the cell as a scream chamber, her hips tightly held by Diego, who for one rare instance, took the ass of a girl and adored the experience, which was concluded by one long-winded roar of surprise and profound delight, this while the man who had first groped Rose-Anne was now indulging in the pleasures of sweeping her chimney and finding out that a hole was still a hole. At least it was better than sex with a donkey, which was tolerated in the Mexican army, as opposed to sex with a conpadre, which could get you hanged or worse, emasculated.

Upon seeing and hearing the pleasure of Diego and the other conpadres, two of the other guards decided to try out the girls as well, and this resulted in more searing pain and screaming with a husky, broken voice for Meg and Rose-Anne. Both girls were put side to side and the so-called "harem eunuchs" hotly debated which girl had the nicest and tightest ass. Then Mary was stripped naked as well, while Ann wailed, in tears, as if she were complaining of being the one left out of the fun. Mary proved to scream the loudest and shrillest when her anus was distended and used as the tight theater of Luis's second honey run inside a girl's shit chimney. When all was screamed and done, the sodomites took immense care in helping their new putanas to get dressed.

***

Meanwhile, far from the cells, in the comfortable room where she had a forced dinner with the General and his staff officers, Consuelo forced herself to eat and make a proud composure, trying to be strong in front of those men she despised. In the very same room where she and Mrs. Dickinson had that conference where they both told James Bowie and Davy Crockett that there was no way they were leaving, that it was their duty to attend to the wounded and face their fate the same as the men.



It felt very strange now for her to be eating right beside the blonde widow, who had the same air of brooding as she did on that occasion two weeks before. It was as if Mrs. Dickinson then knew what fate would be hers, while she herself was naive enough to believe that General Santa Anna and his officers would be gentlemen enough to keep their men from doing the unthinkable.

As she ate some of her spiced chilies with bacon, Santa Anna drank his Xerès wine and kept gazing at Consuelo, who wore a grey shawl and a white thin scarf over that same delicately plaid dress she wore that morning when he saw her standing on top of that white wall. A pale rose dress hinting at a bosom which he was now dying to brutally uncover. When he first rode into the overrun fort, he had predictably found her naked amid his men; and of course he had immediately enjoyed what he personally did to her, but the dress! The dress! Ripping that dress open to uncover her breasts was what he had died to do from the very moment he had seen her on that wall---to rip off that dress and suck those young breasts! And he had yet to do this. This was why he had ordered Consuelo to put on that dress. He sipped his wine, biding his time and behaving as gentlemanly as he could, avoiding to peak at her bosom more often that acceptable during, say, a ball, as he knew it would be so incredibly good after the waiting.

Consuelo avoided his gaze. She just couldn't bear to look into the eyes of his arch-rapist. The politician, the General without honor. The pig! Her hand trembled as she took a sip of wine from her crystal glass, then suddenly she shattered the wine glass on the table's edge and tried to slash her left wrist using the glass' sharp remnant, but the cavalry Colonel who sat at her left, seized her wrists with his sun-baked hands, strong hands that had her flinch in pain, and he tossed the broken crystal away after easily wrestling it out of her dainty hand.

"You aren't serious, Señorita! So beautiful a lady cannot leave us so soon! You have so much to live for!" the Colonel said.

***

The inhabitants of San Antonio had fled at the very start of the siege two weeks before. Hundreds of soldiers nonetheless came to town, looking for fresh girls if they could find any. Two or three avenues stood out to the uniformed drunkards. The first was the laundry joints where Chinese girls were in bed under the protection of their mothers, fathers and/or grandparents. The Chinese families had nowhere to go and thus far, the invading army had treated them like their own servants since they had been washing their clothes and uniforms, but tonight was different: the soldiers had captured the fort and wanted to have a fiesta.

And thus it came to be that a substantial number of Chinese young ladies in town ended up gang-raped right next to their father's or grandfather's dead or battered body, at the hands of those uniformed drunkards. Of course, there was always the brothel, but why pay for what you can get for free?

The second avenue wasn't an option for foot soldiers, who couldn't walk that far, but the cavalrymen all rode north and east on a rampage in the countryside, which was facilitated by the gibbous moon, still almost full, and the sky being mostly clear. They surprise-attacked several farms where they killed or maimed the men and boys and then raped the wives and daughters.

Another avenue for fresh pussy was in the fort itself, only for the soldiers who didn't mind having sex with black girls. Abraham was beaten up and forced to accept the deal--now that he and his sons had raped the fort's most beautiful women, he had to accept the exchange and let Mexican soldiers rape his two lovely daughters. Beyond these two, the drunkards found no less than ten girls and women young enough for their taste, and so the young black maids were pushed and dragged into the inner fort, and then gang-raped by a few dozen soldiers while music was still playing.

Abraham had protested and even managed to punch a soldier, so he was beaten up quite badly with musket butts before being also dragged to the inner fort where they gave him the predictable privilege of enjoying the show as his two beloved daughters, Sybil and Anna, both girls in tears as they realized that tonight would be their worst night.

"This one's the prettiest slave I've ever seen! Look at this tropical berry! As fresh as a spring! Skin so soft, an angel!" a Miguel Torro said of Anna, who froze in terror as several men groped and touched her through her dress.

"Now let's see those tits! Let's taste her milky coffee!"

Anna yelped with pain and distress as one man tore the front of her nightgown and the tearing resonated as her brown breasts were suddenly right their to take and suck, with her dark brown nipples saying she was indeed Afro-American.

"I'll kill you all!" Abraham hollered, his bruised face wet with tears. "I'll morph into a Samson and kill every single one of you, God willing!"

"I'm truly sorry, Sirrah, but we can't spare our precious donkeys to give you its jaw!" a Corporal replied and many had a good laugh while Abraham was tied up at his wrists and ankles and realized how hopeless his predicament was. He suddenly he had not taken Milady's pussy... and yet it had felt so good!

"Uh... Will you, will you let me have a go at Señorita Consuelo if I remain silent?" Abraham suddenly asked, knowing his daughters would be raped no matter what, so he better perhaps get something extra out of it. But the soldiers didn't hear him. They were busy taking turns in sucking Anna's tits under the torchlight while stripping her naked. Sybil had already been bent over and was now squealing with a voice that broke her father's heart on each new stroke she was being dished out by the Corporal, who had begun raping her where she stood without bothering to disrobe her. He had pulled her nightgown up and saw the sensual curves of a butt that were younger and much darker than his wife's. And this was enough to give him some serious fun. This while the ten other maids were summarily stripped out of their nightgown, sometimes not, and compelled by pressing forces to lie down or bend over and enjoy their rounds of whore duty.

But not all soldiers would lower themselves to raping a black slave girl. Most of the Mexicans would have an exhausted, overused white girl rather than a fresh black girl. Thus, for those soldiers who didn't want to wait for the already-used girls of El Alamo, there was the town. Some thought about sickbay where several Mexican nurses were attending the wounded and the dying. Those nurses were nearly all young and attractive. Raping them would be dead wrong, but oh, so much fun! But then the General would have them shot! Many other soldiers felt too tired or had minor wounds and simply went to sleep--many of them feeling that having raped the Señorita de Quesada or some other girl with heavenly skin was good and fair enough for one day. So they traded some extra swigs of tequila or aguardiente and turned in as the music faded and the actual fiesta was about to begin.

In town, beside the Chinese girls, there was that building where the nuns of El Alamo Mission were now staying. The nuns thought they were safe and under the protection of the Lord All Mighty. Santa Anna had forbidden his men to harm them under death penalty, and he had acted on his word four times during the siege. But word had got around that the General had said that for this special night he'd turn a blind eye. And he had a specific reason for this. He needed some "fun house" to divert his men too so he could protect his nurses, who were saving Mexican lives. He also felt it wise to reduce the number of men who would stay at the fort and gang-rape girls who were already exhausted to begin with. For those who did stay at the fort, he gave "all you can drink" license, knowing that many a drunkard would simply drop asleep, since it had been a long, long day.

Thus, in San Antonio, the building where the nuns were staying was suddenly awoken by repeated hammering at its front doors. Teresa, the Superior Mother, came down herself to inquire what this racket was about.

"Open up! Orders of General Santa Anna!" the Sergeant in the lead of a hundred drunkards replied, his stern voice a bit altered by the pilfered wine he had taken.

"At this late hour?" Mother Teresa replied after opening the transom window. "Come back tomorrow with a written order signed by the General. Santa Anna himself gave us his word of honor that my sisters would be left alone. Do you have wounded men? Then we will be glad to attend to them."

There were indeed plenty of wounded men in the fort's overcrowded sickbay and the brigade's surgeons and nurses were overwhelmed as they tried to save as many lives as humanly possible.

"Yes, yes, Mother, we need you to help us. A great many wounded! Our own nurses aren't enough. We would need Jesus to perform a miracle!" said the Sergeant, winking at a drunk Corporal, the one who had ordered the men at the battering timber to stop.

"Do you have a written order from Santa Anna? Then show it through the transom window!" Mother Teresa replied, greatly suspecting some foul play as the Sergeant didn't sound all too sober.

The answer came in the form of the timber used as battering ram that slammed against the front doors.

"Sergeant! You don't know what you're doing! Think of you and your men! Think of your eternal salvation! Please, stop before it's too late!"

The battering ram gave the answer in its insistent pounding. Sergeant Alvarez and Corporal Jorgues both experienced a raging erection as the front doors began to seriously complain, echoed by Mother Teresa's entreaties that grew more and more frantic as all the nuns inside panicked. There was a small door behind, but other soldiers, lead by another Corporal, were watching, and as some young nuns opened that small door to flee, they were grabbed and soldiers ran through this door to gain entry. At the same time, the front doors gave way and a hundred half-drunk soldiers rushed inside the makeshift nunnery, shouting cries of war and victory as they sought and found what they came for--nuns, preferably young and fresh. The entire building came painfully alive with unholy shrieks, wails and screams.

The youngest nuns were actively hunted down and soon found. Just one lucky maiden successfully hid. All the others were put to the Mexican cock. Some nuns would shriek and hurt the soldiers' ears when she was grabbed. Others remained silent, often with lips trembling out of fear of the unknown. The crucifix they wore on their chest was of no help, nor was the rosary of wooden beads at their belt; all of those things were declared needless by soldiers eager to see the nubile bosoms their white robes hinted at. "But why? Why are you doing this?! We prayed for your dead conpadres today, the whole day! Nn--nnoooo noo please not this!" Stripping these nuns until they were soon naked felt sacrilegious, but immensely arousing. Away with those robes! No need for this! Eagerly, the men gained sight of the erotic side of the nuns, a carnal aspect of them that the nuns kept hidden and far away from their pious thoughts and prayers. And now those breasts were free to breath as shrill screams echoed in the hallways, or in the small chapel. Bushes of pussy hair suddenly appeared along with her hips, like a mirage of unreal beauty freed from the Catholic veil. Free to be fucked. The holy maidens found it strange to feel their hair free and no longer covered as male hands removed those wimples from their heads. The chapel became the scene of an orgy where Mexican infantrymen urgently relieved themselves inside young nuns, and sometimes also took older nuns too. Most of the nuns spoke the same Spanish as their rapists.

Adèle and Jeanne were the daughters of a French merchant who happened to be in San Antonio when the war came to town. Confident in Santa Anna's sense of honor, the rich widower had put his daughters under the care of Mother Teresa, thinking they would be safe, and then fled, never to be seen again.

In the building's inner yard, Mother Teresa was stripped naked, urgently out of her wimple, where her long silver hair gave artistic merit to her suddenly uncovered bosom--small tits between the torn curtains of her holy-white robes. Small tits that looked surprisingly youthful for a woman of her years! The soldiers who did this whistled and catcalled the Mother Superior, a slim woman who soon found herself Eve-nude amid the small pack of drunkards who looked at her with pleasant surprise in their eyes along with smiles that spoke volume about the fact that the naked Mother Superior was soon going to get gang-fucked by the pack of young men. Teresa was born to an affluent Italian family in Philadelphia. And now her powerfully white skin was profaned! They bent her over against the well and without further ado, they took turns, all four of them, and gave her her first gang-rape since she her rape at the hands of gentlemen in a mansion forty years before.

Everywhere in the building, it was a hunt and a contest to see who would find the prettiest girl. Sergeant Alvarez and Corporal Jorgues were lucky enough to find Jeanne and Adèle and drag them out from under their beds.

"Next time, find somewhere else to hide, young lady. Under the bed is the first place we look," said the Sergeant as he licked Jeanne's face and took whiffs of her wavy golden hair. She was crying with hectic sobs. She smelled young, a virgin!

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" three grinning men asked Adèle while their leader stroked her light-brown hair with a hand she found disgustingly dark. Adèle spoke only French and had no idea what those horrible men said. She did notice the leader wore one red epaulet with fringes on his cobalt-blue uniform and thus was perhaps an officer, but no, he had to be a Sergeant or something since no officer would behave like a pig! She heard her elder sister Jeanne cry and wail as men pressed themselves on her. Adèle told her elder sister to try to stay calm, silent tears welling in her own eyes as she knew full well what those awful men were there for.

An orgy ensued where both French girls were gang-raped for the whole night, their little wrists strapped to their bedposts, against a background of echoing screams of young nuns sharing their fate elsewhere in the building, grunts and fat laughs from those drunkards who so shamefully misbehaved. On and on went the gross fiesta. From the Sergeant and the Corporal down in ranks and seniority. The privileged daughters of a rich merchant who thought them safe, raped by the rank-and-file. Deflowered. At one point, Adèle began to moan louder and louder as something deep inside her erupted and bathed her small body with an indescribable, fleeting bliss as she realized she was climaxing, a bit like when she masturbated, but just much more intense. Her sister was now crying like a little girl getting spanked as a soldier mounted her like a breeding dog after unstrapping her from the bedposts. Both were raped for hours on end.

As the first sun rays would shed light in their room, both sisters would be naked and hugging each other, limp like rotten meat, feeling stinky and filthy, thinking about ending their miserable life, although they knew they would then go in hell and this perhaps terrorized them even more than anything those awful men did. But how could hell be worse than the hell they just went through? Their anus would be bruised and too broadly abused. Their pussy labia would be red and inflated by excessive forces. But the worse for Jeanne would be to remember their hands on her, the screams and whimpers of her little sister, and the worst of the worse, the disgusting sweating face of that large man, the leader who had raped her first, who had stolen what any honest girl kept for her husband to be. She would remember all those little details, painfully vivid, and this would truly get her. Jeanne understood she'd be reliving this nightmare for the rest of her life.

For Adèle, the worst would be to feel dirty and to question her own morality. At one point, one man nearly as old as her father had taken her with her legs propped up and pinned under him, and her body had reacted in a way that made her rape less painful. She had thought of her father while that older man pounded her on the creaking bed, and she had begun to moan like a dirty little tramp! Thinking of her father! Wishing it were him inside her! She had hit a massive climax just before that old pig erupted inside her. She felt so unclean! She would go see Mother Teresa. The Superior Mother would know what to say.

In the early morning, Teresa reclined against the well, her naked body reeling from the long ordeal those men had given her. She felt angry, and yet she had pity for those vile men who had behaved like animals, and yet the part of evil within her also felt proud that young men had given her such attention. Soldiers were still there, thanking her for her "kind hospitality" as their eyes feasted on the surprisingly erotic sight of her legs and feet. Men could be quite surprised upon disrobing an old woman. Perhaps it was knowing who she was that magnified the effect, as she was a bit like a baroness who got forced out of her robes by drunk soldiers inside her fallen castle.

The Sergeant himself came and took Mother Teresa under the gray morning sky, like a dog taking a bitch, her hands and knees on the dusty ground, with soldiers watching or gathered around a couple of young nuns. The inner yard was echoing with such grunts and lamentations as should never be heard where nuns are present. Raping the Mother Superior who had refused him entry to the building proved strangely intense and satisfying. After watching the nonstop motions and flattening of her young-looking buttocks against his tired frame, after reveling in her moaning whimpers, the large Sergeant stooped on Mother Teresa and exploded inside her while cupping her breasts and feeling the imprints of her nipples. Those long raging bolts of semen proved so incredibly good! So much sperm for an old nun!

Stunned by this one rape too many, shocked by how close she had been to climaxing, Teresa was pulled by her hair by the Sergeant and forced to watch the soul-shattering scene where one naked nun had a knife resting on her breasts with the threat of severing a nipple if the other nun didn't let all the men use her in any way they like. The younger nun was now riding one soldier who held her waist and made her his own cowgirl, with the secrets of her bosom plainly revealed under the rising sun. This novice nun was the prettiest one the drunkards had found. She was thus compelled to suck their cocks, let them rape her ass, etc.

As she witnessed this supreme defilement that came on top of a night of horror, Mother Teresa was speechless. She didn't have the foggiest idea of what to tell her nuns, after. She stood on her knees and began to pray, not realizing the pleasing view she gave the bandits as she sat on her heels, while the sordid soldiers were forcing her dear Maria to drink some more semen while some indefatigable satyr wearing a shako, but otherwise naked, stood behind Maria, holding the crease of her hips and shook her with repeated lack of restraint, forcing her long raven hair to sway in revealed enigmas in the cool morning air as the shako-wearing naked man got busy like a poor devil who seemed to think that sensuality was the saint Graal of life.

What shocked Sergeant Alvarez the most was the fact Maria was a Mexican girl with beautiful pale olive skin, just like most of the brigade's nurses in sickbay. Why were they harming her then? War was just as blind as justice.

***

Consuelo had long finished whatever of her meal she managed to eat, doing so in a painful quest to find some countenance in front of her arch-tormentor, also because she felt the need to fortify herself. Night or day, the world spun around her without meaning other than the reality of her being there, but what was there? What was that notion of being there? Why was she there? She had been gang-raped because she had been there when the fort fell. And then she was there, to be raped even more. Why was she there? She wanted to erase herself from there, now that she was a whore. What would James Bowie think? What would Jeb say? Jeb was still alive. Would she see him again? She felt like being with him. He was such a true gentleman! With him she'd feel whole again. But would he still have her while knowing or suspecting what happened to her? Losing Jeb became her worst fear. Then she'd rather die.

"Señorita, it is ten o'clock and the night is still young! Time for us to go, I'm afraid!" General Santa Anna said as he looked at his watch, its small golden chain a link between time and his person. The General seemed to enjoy such limitless power that time itself had to do his bidding.

Consuelo was escorted, very close, touching close, by the cavalry Colonel and the General himself with the fat Major not far behind. Each step felt heavier as her dread increased. They were going to the outer yard, and she dreaded the place so much she was already there and not one iota surprised to see hundreds of men assembled there and listening to music, smoking or drinking. All eyes was on her.

Meg, Rose-Anne, Mary and Ann Blyth were similarly escorted by smiling soldiers and pushed in the middle of the vast yard where they fell under a rain of whistles and catcalls, more than enough for each sister to feel naked inside her black mourning dress that the sodomites had hastily put back on her. Mrs. O'Hara and all the rest of the ladies of Fort Alamo were given the same "toss and whistles" treatment; the catcalls hit a spike of roaring whenever soldiers caught sight of their bare feet under the black hem of their dress.

Beside the Yankee girls and widows were nearly a dozen Hispanic girls and women whose fathers or husbands had fought against Mexico; they too had been raped in the chaotic confusion inside the sacristy. The youngest ones were Esmeralda and her friend Inès.

"Why are you doing this to your own folks? Aren't you ashamed?" Esmeralda cried out in flawless Spanish while sitting and hugging her knees inside her dress after getting tossed and whistled.

"Your father fought on the wrong side, girl. It's nothing personal," the twirl-mustached Captain said as he stroked his chin and appraised the two girls' erotic value. Both girls were small with jet-black hair and a haze of olive on their skin. Nothing special, except their youth. He picked up the one he found prettiest.

"You're harming your own kind! Let me down!" Esmeralda cried out as he took a whiff of her hair, at her small neck, where he gently rubbed his face against her cheek and could appreciate how soft her skin was. The angel softness of her cheek promised the same on her bottom, where her skin would be paler. She wore a dress, but her close proximity was enough for him to experience very pleasant sensations down there at the thought of having sex with her.

"Put me down!" Esmeralda repeated, her tiny fists pummeling his upper back.

"Your father fought on the wrong side, and besides, you smell way to good. I'll protect you if you want to become my maid."

"Never in a hundred years!" she replied while spitting in his face, sealing her fate while her friend Inès was now in the arms of Big Pedro, whose ballooning size made Inès look comically tiny where she was down under him and he presently ripped her black dress open on the too-young display of her breasts, a pair of small blossoming breasts with a concentration of brown and fragrance in her budding nipples.

Inès didn't scream or resist while Big Pedro flattened his fat face against the contrasting grace of her tits, one of which he engulfed in his wide mouth, causing her breathing to deepen as he tasted her areola in a circle, his tongue wetting the skin of a girl who made even him feel old. The fact she was so young drove him crazy with arousal. Pedro knew it was going to be a very good fuck. It was so insane!

Now the girls and widows, Yankees and Hispanic alike, were the prey, yet again amid the dense pack of soldiers they hated even more now than when they killed their men. Meg waved her arms aimlessly in this moving orgy where the uniforms of victory met with the dresses of sorrow, and their grunts met their husky screams as Meg's tits seemed to float amid the black ripping destruction of her dress, as Rose-Anne's treasures of angel skin were shown and each spot of her that came to light added to their fury amid the tumult of arms, hands and grinning faces, often bearded or mustached, while Mary yelled and screamed, her maiden's hands unable to fend off the press of men as she felt the evening air directly on her skin where more and more of her clothes was torn off, while Ann was promptly stripped naked and felt the men's lust, knowing they were hard without needing to see their cocks, and thus realizing she had gained a lot of experience in what a honest girl must never know.

Aunt Jemima was beaten with rifle butts and crudely stripped naked, the men who liked chubby women finding a singular fiesta in this undressing, this while Mrs. O'Hara was swiftly made topless and her breasts pressed, kneaded and kissed and licked and massaged and whatever they came up with by a horny bunch of soldiers of the lowliest kind.

***

While the outer yard was filled by the explosive orgy of ripping fabric, screams and clamors, General Santa Anna took Consuelo in his arms and violated her with a forceful kiss, which he prolonged as she tried to resist, but the officers held her while pulling her dress up and groping her legs, her ass, some going low and kissing her feet as she felt their collective heat, surrounded by this pack of men who seemed to find honey to lick everywhere on her. The screams and lamentations from the other girls were deafening.

"And now, Señorita! Now!" Santa Anna bellowed, his eyes gone crazy as he grabbed Consuelo's dress near the collar and ripped it apart! He grunted like a madman as the buttons flew off and he opened a grand view where the delicate beige-rose dress and her thin white scarf flattered the rich hues of her pale skin where her breasts seemed to jump on the opportunity of showing themselves in their full glory.

"This is what I wanted to do when I observed you before the assault! Aaaarrrrh! Hrrrnnmmmm..."

Grunting like a rutting buck, the General gave an epic round of licking to her breasts, finding heaven in her nipples, tasting them and reliving that sublime moment when he ripped that famous dress and bared her tits! Drinking the wine of his fantasy as he felt the swelling of his cock with his face pressed on those tits, after tearing that rose dress and uncovering those tits he had wanted so much! Those tits were always present in his mind the whole time he gave the final assault. If he were truly honest, he would write "I took El Alamo for Consuelo's tits."

While their General was having his fun with her breasts, the cavalry Colonel had found his way down below her dress and was now kissing the hairy plate of her cunt while his caressing hands learned the curves of her hips, his nostrils drowning in her pungent intimacy as he began to lick her slit, causing her to shudder and beg them to please stop this, to please not do this on the day her father died. Consuelo spoke those words in order to keep a countenance, to find a way to fight those inevitable assaults, but the more protests she voiced, the more pressing they became. Santa Anna's frantic pressures on her breasts were forcing them to swell some; the Colonel's insistent tongue filled her with hatred and a sense of lost control as she began to lose control of her body, which seemed bent on the task to force her to surrender and start to moan. More hands were on her, a forest of Mexican hands as the group of officers treated her as if they hadn't touched a woman in years and she was the only woman in Texas.

Consuelo began to fake pleasure, trying to keep those men in those foreplay actions as long as possible, so she could lighten the deep burden on her body. She began to moan louder and louder, fooling the younger officers, but Santa Anna said, "You're not as good an actress as a singer, Señorita! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Hey, Major Botez! How did you first mount her, exactly?"

The General had to speak really loud for his officers to hear him, since the outer yard was now an absolute pandemonium where white girls were being forced into a horizontal dance where jiggling tits were de rigueur, while the brave soldiers were hard at work inside them. Meg, Rose-Anne and Mary were all partaking to those on-the-ground festivities while Ann was being taken from behind by a tall, burly Sergeant with such fury that her feet barely touched the ground as he kept a painful hold on her bruised hips and just kept hammering her and flattening her buttocks until he yelled, "Yankee Girrrrrhhhhllll!" and dumped a solid amount, two long ropes of which landed on her pale curves after he pulled out of her; her skin and the gloss of his semen on it were all enraptured in the heat of golden torchlight, since men had brought enough torches and made enough campfires to have a wedding with each and everyone of those girls. They raped her sometimes with hatred and anger, as some of their friends had died for the privilege of their flesh.

The musicians and singers had long stopped performing. They were now performing. The concert was but a prelude before the fiesta!

Big Pedro was truly amazed by how blissfully painful his ejaculation had proved to be inside that tiny girl, whom her friend kept calling Inès while she was herself being used. Being on top of Inès had drained him and she got filled up for the first time of her very young life, the sheer immorality of the deed had multiplied the amount of his seed. He had raped her with his torso propped up on straight arms where he enjoyed the sight of those little blossoming tits while a prisoner inside her, but not for long! Her little whimpers and the way she kept flailing her arms and aimlessly throwing her adorable fists had brought him over the edge in short order. He saw how his mates brutally used the other little tramp whose father had died fighting on the wrong side. Her cute little buttocks were kept tapping against each successive man, who ended up losing a week's worth of semen inside her. Big Pedro took note of the other girl's legs and feet and he already saw himself bucking her with her legs up and those lovely little feet in his face! War was just as sweet as it was dangerous. Immoral too. Very.

Men who had that kink spent time exploring the soft mahogany generosity of Aunt Jemima, each of her udders about as large as the ass of her Milady, Mrs. Violet O'Hara.

The graceful widow of late Sergeant O'Hara fancied herself a glamorous lady. The Mexican Army gave Violet the glamor of finding herself naked and floating in a forest of arms and caressing hands while spitting words of hate and empty threats at the "rabble" who dared touch her! The men and officers encircling her just laughed louder with each of her hate words and the one inside her just went at it harder, enjoying the contrast between her angry face and her gorgeous breasts, a pair of tits that didn't seem to know which way to point their nipples in this tumult under their insistent grunts and thrusts, while the satin-black mass of her hair kept swaying with a grace that further contradicted the hate in her words, the tension in her body and the anger in her face, her eyes trying to turn them into stone. Failing to. She kept telling them they were all going to hang for this while each of her rapists seemed to make her tits jiggle harder as they gave her the full glamor of this free ride in this never-ending carousel of sweat, pain and honor-killing semen.

The man now raping Violet was a half-blood Native who kept nodding at her with each one of his strokes, as if to tell her, "Yes, yes, this is happening to you!" His skin was even darker than some of her former slaves.

General Santa Anna hesitated very humanly, finding that a session of sex was always fraught with difficult choices. He finally chose to get down on his knees and rape Consuelo with that plaid beige rose dress still on her, but torn enough so she was as topless as a French Marianne. Now that the foreplay was over, Consuelo stopped her fake moans as the officers kept her down on her back while the General stood on his knees between her legs and smiled down on her as he freed his erection with eagerness. After tearing off that dress and baring her tits to dream of, he just wanted to fuck her long and good before finally relieving one gigantic load to feed her chances for a baby.

Consuelo made strange noises, as if choking in her sobs. They were on the verge of truly breaking her. Santa Anna's men had forced her to climax in their arms. Did she climax while the General was inside her? Did she give the pig the satisfaction? She wasn't sure, everything foggy in her mind.

"Aaaaaaahhhrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" the General uttered upon penetrating Consuelo. As he did so, he grabbed her waist and began to pound her, keeping her butt off the ground as her legs were forced to brush his sides and feel the wool of his hated uniform, directly on her skin as he uttered more roaring sounds while raping her like a madman, "Aaaaaaahhhrrr! Aahhrr Aaahhr aaarrrh aaarrrh aaahhrrrr aaaahhrr aaahrrr aaahrrrr..." His golden epaulets weren't enough to convince her he was a gentleman.

Those jiggling tits were the loveliest thing he had ever seen! This dress! This beige-rose dress she wore in the morning before the assault! "Aahhrr Aaahhr aaarrrh aaarrrh aaahhrrrr aaaahhrr aaahrrr aaahrrrr..." He was so glad to have won! "Aahhrr Aaahhr aaarrrh aaarrrh aaahhrrrr aaaahhrr aaahrrr aaahrrrr..." Her tits! Her pussy! Her tits... Won! "Aahhrr Aaahhr aaarrrh aaarrrh aaahhrrrr aaaahhrr aaahrrr aaahrrrr..." No protection! He could do all he pleased! "Aahhrr Aaahhr aaarrrh aaarrrh aaahhrrrr aaaahhrr aaahrrr aaahrrrr..."

His arms were growing tired, but he heard some peculiar whimpers out of her as her bobbing head made her gaze wander aimlessly, her mouth ajar, letting out whimpers that were not fake anymore. Her body seemed to enjoy this rough round of sex, so the General was valiant and kept his grip on her hips as he went all out!

"AARR AAARHH AAAH AAARRHH AAAARHH AAAAH AAH AAAH AAAAH AAAAH AAAAHHH..."

Her head bobbing on, his officers helping him as her whimpers grew stronger and she began to say, "Noo... No please stop this! Stop!"

But then Consuelo closed her eyes and remembered Thomas's touch on her and the crushing sense of debasement she felt when the negroes raped her, and suddenly she screamed as her entire body exploded in unwanted bliss as the angel-faced bugle boy took hold of her mind and she felt she was now being raped by this wonderful boy, with Jeb masturbating and waiting for his turn! And she called Jeb's name as her scream came to an end...

"Aaaahhhhhhh JEB!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYEAHH WE WON!!! Aaahhrrr! We got her!"

"Did you hear her? Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

"She likes it rough, the little tramp!"

"Little tramp!"

"Now this is a fiesta!"

"Come on, Colonel! Give her a true Republican fuck!"

The Colonel had the others hold her while he completely disrobed her, pulling her beige rose dress with a raging grip all the way to the end of her propped up legs--her legs nearly straight as he gleefully uncovered the wild side of her artistic figure right to the fairy tales of her ankles and feet.

Colonel Miguel del Estanque plunged on Consuelo's feet and began to cover them with kisses and devotion. She was so beautiful! And he missed his young wife so much! He couldn't wait for this campaign to be over so he'd go back to his hacienda near Chihuahua and resumed his boring life where at leas he had sex with Dolorès on the regular. In the meantime, he tried to resolve the equation of Consuelo's lower legs and got lost in contemplation, his cock hard and impatient, the fat Major and the captains even more impatient as they respectfully let their superior officer enjoy his time with San Antonio's most beautiful señorita.

The rape itself wasn't very long. It proved silent, urgent and to the point. The balding man took off his bicorn for more ease of fuck, and then he propped those legs up and, in a move that surprised everyone including Consuelo, he laid down on his side as if to form a cross with Consuelo's body, and placed her where her legs rested on him and his erection was in line with her captured hacienda. One moment he would never forget was the feeling of her bush of hair against the uncut head of his Catholic cock, just as he inserted it inside her hacienda, and then he kept his hands on her legs as he began to enjoy her, loving the side view he had on her gently moving tits in this position. His thrusts got more and more deep and active. Until he got near his edge and slowed down some to make the round last a bit longer. This was so much fun!

Consuelo couldn't help it. She just couldn't stop thinking of the man she realized she was absolutely in love with. "Jeb! Oh Jeb! Yes, Jeb! Mount me and make me yours! Oohh Jeb!" She no longer knew what she was saying. She didn't even realize she was speaking aloud amid her moaning as the angle of the Colonel inside her happened to trigger something deep inside her. And she just let herself roll with the repeated motions, tired of resisting and now letting the rapes roll through her. She was almost completely broken. Going insane.

There was heat and lots of it in those words of love for her future husband. The officers around her had a good laugh, a jolly good laugh as they heard her.

In his mind, Colonel Miguel del Estanque envisioned his young wife getting gang-raped by a band of unwashed brigands who were sacking the hacienda and now taking their deep and hard turns inside her hacienda. Not that he wanted it to actually happen, but this was his favorite fantasy, and he ran it in his mind whenever he had sex with his young wife or his even younger maid. Then he realized he was passing his edge and he came inside Consuelo, very forcefully so as he gazed at the unreal play of her feet and lower legs as he nearly died during the rush of semen. Only then did he realize he had lost a prodigious amount of slobber through his mouth.

"Did you miss me, Señorita de Quesada?" the fat Major jested as he removed his gold-rimmed shako and his saber before kneeling at her side and simply rushing his face plump on her breasts, which he pressed with force, making yielding cones out of them while twirling his tongue around each nipple, going back and forth between those light brown cherries as he kept massaging her with a civilized, measured force that unleashed the most primal reactions within her. She loahted this man, even more than the General himself, but she closed her eyes and imagined it was Jeb doing this to her. Jeb, with... with Colonel Bowie and Davy Crockett both masturbating while waiting for Jeb to dump his hot load inside her. Jeb, dump hot load! Those very words brought swelling in her breasts being massaged! She allowed herself to play this fantasy where Jeb, James and Davy had sex with her. She had caught Davy Crocket looking at her and her bosom on many occasions. Davy was an absolute gentleman who wouldn't have made a pass at her unless she showed signs she wanted him to. Truth be told, she had toyed with the idea of an affair with this legend of a man. But she had been firm in her resolve to be a good Catholic señorita and wait until her wedding night. With James Bowie. With Jeb?! Yes, Jeb!

Consuelo forced a smile, knowing this would astonish her rapists. Since she was to be gang-raped the whole night through and this couldn't be helped, then she was going to play with them a little! This gave her hope and a sense of regained control. Oh, God! This disgusting officer knew what to do with a lady's bosom, she had to give him that! Love your enemy, Jesus had said!

She managed to free her hands, surprising the Lieutenant holding them, and then began to caress the fat Major's balding crown of hair. Forcing a smile. "What a tramp!" someone said.

This caused great alarm in the Major, who thought she was going to gauge his eyes out! He instantly recoiled as if she were a rattlesnake and threw her a slap!

"And now, young Señorita, it's time for you to be mine! MINE!"

With her cheek red and reeling from the slap, Consuelo felt his touch as he roughly turned her around and nudged her into getting on all fours, and then he proceeded to rape her in this popular position we all know. Major Botez was a man who always fucked from behind, a girl's ass being his favorite area. He grunted like an Aztec king of the jungle as he flattened her gorgeous buttocks with each collision, loving the moving shadows and the bright golden hues on her skin under the torchlight.

As she got banged, Consuelo looked down at the ground and enjoyed the fact she didn't have to look at his pudgy face. Her thoughts went back to Jeb. And to her, it was Jeb who was pounding her like some rutting monkey, so hard and good! She did her best to try to love this, but her predicament was always there as well. She heard the lamentations of the others near her and heard the prodigious roaring of so many gang-rapes happening at the same time.

The fat Major relived the first rape as he enjoyed his second time inside Consuelo. The fort's capture! Consuelo's urgent and partial undressing, then her rape! He first! He realized he had deflowered her, for this was a proper señorita, unmarried, a maiden! Her buttocks had kept colliding with him from his impetus, under the bright sun! Blinding pale skin! Now they collided under the torchlight! Sublime golden-light skin!

And then the Major pulled out and reentered inside her butt! Consuelo screamed as the pain exploded inside her.

"Her ass! Right plump between her buns! aaahrrr ahrrr ahhrrrr rrr rrrr rrrrrrrhh! This feels so good! Aahrrr! Her ass! Her butt! Señorita AA AA AA AA AA A AAA..."

She half-heard the Major's vocal enjoyment amid the fiery pain, then she forced herself to imagine it was Jeb who was trying sodomy with her, and she knew she'd let him. Him or James Bowie, but James was dead.

Then the Major yelled like a wounded dog and erupted inside her rectum, leaving a parting bolt of semen on her ass and spreading his cream all over her buns with his hands. "This is nice and proper for a deflowered señorita! Nice and proper!"

"My turn!" said the most senior of the Captains present. "Now, Milady, it's my pleasure to inform you we're going to have you by order of rank, UUNNGHH!" The Captain said as he promptly knelt behind her, dropped his trousers and invaded her pussy.

The Captain then went silent as he sank into a spell of quiet grunting. Consuelo began to moan upon thinking of Jeb exploding inside her. She felt those hands on her waist and imagined it was now James Bowie. She moved herself to meet each one of his strokes, moved herself in a way that increased the pressure, and do what he will, the Captain was forced to capitulate and forget about a prolonged coitus. The man uttered a series of grunts as he died inside her.

"Thank you, Milady! I'll be back for more!" he said as he put himself back together.

The next Captain was a heavyset man who also chose to take her from behind. She was just so gorgeous to have in this position! She was poetry in motion as the lucky Captain made a honest effort to mount her as long as he could take the pressure. Consuelo moaned in plaintive sounds that were perhaps fake, perhaps real, or both. The Captain upped his pace, and he proved to be a long-enduring stud. Consuelo reverted to her fantasy where James Bowie, Davy Crockett and Jim again took turns in enjoying her like breeding stallions! While she envisioned the return of Jeb inside her, her moaning and whimpers got out of control and she climaxed.

"What a cheap tramp! A señorita, this?"

"She'll soon be a branded strumpet!"

"She has a lovely ass! And look at those legs!"

Consuelo now took the heavy Captain's fury with her elbows on the ground, her face gently sliding on the dirt and her butt showcased, unimpeachable under the torch light.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!"

The third Captain took over. More pounding. More of the same. Consuelo stayed in her fantasy. She felt that Davy Crockett had quite a bit of size and she tried to think it felt nice and warm inside her, in spite of the pain that now grew worse. The kept moving herself against the repeated rams from the stranger.

"HHNNNNNNN DDJDDHHH HNNNNNGGHH!!!"

The fourth, the fifth and the sixth came. They lifted her up and kindly asked her to stand on her knees. The fourth Captain enjoyed a short round of slapping her face using his cock and calling her a strumpet and a tramp, before masturbating hard and soon showering her tits with a generous helping of pudding from the Rio Grande. The fifth Captain ran the gauntlet of her mouth and kept her jaw painfully pinched as he raped her face, very brutally so, while the sixth Captain learned the geography of her curves using his hand.

"AAAAAAAAAYYAAHHH AAAAAAAAARRRRRRNNNNNNNNNN WE TOOK THE FORT HHNN..."

The Captain had pulled out and loved how beautifully his ejaculation landed in thick ropes that pooled on her face, all of it glistening gold under the torchlight with fantastic shadows underscoring the youth of her breasts.

The sixth Captain threw her on her back and made her his whore for the next few minutes, kissing her face, her neck as he pounded her, and she moaned like a whore, her mouth wide open and her legs wrapped around her lover as she imagined this was Davy Crockett giving her the very best of him and she crossed her ankles on top of him, knowing Jeb would love this show of legs and feet while Davy Crockett set her ledger straight by pounding her like a possessed man, soon yelling his bliss in her face, telling her he had always wanted her as he gave her all the hot cream he had left.

The officer remained panting on top of her, kissing her neck and telling her how sorry he was for doing this to her, but she was so beautiful! "Lo siento, Señorita. Lo siento."

Then came the lieutenants, a bunch of them. Young. Full of steam. Strong. Energetic! Very!

Consuelo thought she now knew what it was to take a rough pounding, but what the young officers gave her was nothing short of the worst pounding her beauty was ever given tribute with. One after the other, the young centaurs and satyrs gave her a run for her dead father's money, using her in a variety of position, the two most popular being floating in their arms and raped with her legs up where the young gentleman would kiss her feet whenever he felt like it, and from behind with her on all fours like a bitch. Mexicans officers were both refined and barbaric. This was necessary to lead soldiers who were half brigands half citizens.

Those Lieutenants were young men in their prime years. They let it be known by Consuelo through every fiber of her body. Each of those boys totally enjoyed it. Some had already raped her earlier, but most did not, and they had heard about the gang-rape she had originally been given with her back on that cannon. The officers raped her while staying fully clothed themselves, so as to profoundly humiliate the naked senorita.

One of the young gentlemen stood with his legs wide as he took immense delight in holding the crease of her hips and driving her against him, filling the room with his "At last! At last!!!" as he heard the smat-smat-smat sounds of Consuelo's flesh cushions against him, each one of those sensual collisions bringing him closer to the flourishing finale, which left him utterly out of breath when he came! The next Lieutenant poured tequila on those hypnotizing buttocks and licked the liquor off before taking his own turn. General Santa Anna came and gently held her chin while she endured the bent-over festival. Consuelo soon got the General's flaccid cock plump in her face... a slap! Another slap and then another. Splat sounds in a soggy kind of torment, while the young buck behind her yelled like a dying donkey as he added to her fertilization.

The valiant officers left her wretched on the ground, her figure just as sensual as ever, with a river of semen dripping down her pussy. She now had too much understanding of these matters not to realize this was just the beginning of a long, long night.