The Last Command – Consuelo’s Fate

Fort Alamo, March 6th, 1836. A strong brigade of Mexicans give the final assault and overrun the fort. They then rape all the women in it.

This fantasy of wartime rape in 19th century is directly inspired from the 1955 movie entitled “The Last Command”. There is absolutely no pretense at any sort of historical accuracy other than the Mexicans overrun Fort Alamo and Davy Crocket dies in the fighting.

Consuelo de Quesada was a character created for the movie and there was never such a Consuelo during the actual events. Like in the movie, the final assault happens in broad daylight, which is a departure from the historical battle. This is done for cinematic reasons.

This is a story of erotic gang-rape fiction. I hope you will enjoy reading it. I absolutely enjoyed writing that chapter, which revolves around Consuelo.

The pictures included at the end are a lovely tribute to the actress who portrayed her.

*** *** ***

March 6th, 1836.

The sun was already up and bright. It was half past seven in the morning.

Consuelo didn’t sleep much that night. Second Lieutenant Jeb Lacey had gone in the dark of the night in an attempt to reach the U.S reinforcement brigade and warn them about Alamo’s desperate situation. But Consuelo was truly in love with Colonel James Bowie who was in command of Fort Alamo’s small garrison against overwhelming odds.

General Santa Anna had crossed the Rio Grande at the head of a brigade consisting of a full regiment of infantry with a cavalry regiment that had almost succeeded in staging a surprise attack here at Alamo Mission, a convent that was turned into a makeshift fort.

Only luck and heavy rain had prevented the disaster by making the nearest river unfordable for the 300 heavily armed cavalrymen. This was on 23rd of February.

Under the siege, the Yankees had held their own for two weeks, but now the wind was blowing for the Mexicans as their strong columns lined up with their loaded muskets in their bright powder-blue jackets and light grey flannel trousers.

Their warm-olive faces shadowed under black shakos, a tall, cylindrical military hat with the all-important visor for protection against the intense sun of Texas.

The womenfolk of Fort Alamo, about thirty wives and lasses, stood by their husbands or fathers as they watched those young Mexican troops with dread. There were far too many of them! They knew it. But they couldn’t desert their men, and who knows, maybe those reinforcements would show up!

As she stood near her father over the white, sunlit wall of harsh stone, Consuelo de Quesada thought a bit about Lt. Jeb Lacey, who was twenty-two years old, much closer to her in age and so very handsome and nice and all that, but then, in her mind, Jeb paled next to Colonel James Bowie. James was strong in the face of adversity; he had lost his wife and children to a plague of small pox, and if someone could make a miracle happen, it was him!

Colonel James Bowie was strong-faced with a thick and square jaw; his eyes were always filled with fierce resolve. Consuelo couldn’t help it. He was twice her age, but she felt so insanely attracted to him!

On the two occasions she was alone with him, her body had wished he’d make a pass at her and she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist him. James was a true gentleman; he had kissed her and caused her to almost pass out!

Colonel Bowie made Miss Consuelo de Quesada weak in her legs, all proper and covered under that off-white dress of subtly plaid fabric that she wore so well, but she was now going to change into an older dress, a dress that was Italian brown—Tierra Sienna, a dress she could afford to stain with blood as she was going to attend to the wounded men in the innermost part of the fort, protected behind that all-important inner door.

Consuelo de Quesada, a noble-born señorita, watched the enemy with unfathomable dread, powerless to stop that Mexican infantry regiment as the shako-wearing soldados boldly advanced with their loaded muskets, drums rolling, on Fort Alamo along with their 300-strong cavalry regiment.

General Santa Anna had some 1,800 troops under his command with six field cannons, which he had used to bombard and weaken the stubborn Texan fort that was now manned by only 150 Yankee soldiers under the joint command of Colonels Davy Crockett and James Bowie, who was himself wounded badly in one leg and lay in sickbay along with several others.

The Yankee garrison, already thin to begin with, had been weakened over those fourteen days of unabated fighting and anxious watches.

Again, toward the end of the night, they had successfully thwarted an attempted surprise attack, but now General Santa Anna was growing impatient. He had to take that fort before the U.S reinforcement brigade showed up. He was attacking all out! A great many Mexican soldiers would die that day, but it was worth it.

Many of those Mexican young men looked up at the wall and spotted the women from afar—their ultimate prize for when they would throw down that Texas rebel flag and hoist the Mexican flag instead. That red on the Mexican flag was going to echo the hymen blood of Yankee daughters!

Consuelo de Quesada felt their far gazes on her and experienced a surprisingly intense arousal. She realized she had gone through the trouble of changing into that nice dress not only to look good in front of James, but also… also to look attractive to ALL men. Female pride!

Colonel Bowie had met the General a week prior. Santa Anna had ordered him to surrender so he would spare the men, women and children; on his word of honour, he would let them all go peacefully once they had surrendered their weapons.

Bowie had stubbornly refused.

Now, under the intensifying morning light, drummer boys with light-brown hands let speak their young drums as files and columns advanced toward the stubborn Fort, with the field artillery being rolled into a deadly close position while the cavalry maintained safety patrols around the attacking force.

Some cavalrymen were part of a special troop that would storm inside the first wall after it would be overrun.

At a safe distance, General Santa Anna sat high on his white horse, supervising the final deployment before the all-out assault.

The Yankees were waiting for reinforcements that he knew would be too late, and now they were almost out of gunpowder and were getting low in their stocks of paper cartridges to feed the mouth of their rifles, but those Yankees were dead shots.

That U.S brigade was still at three or four days of marching, maybe two if they hastened their pace and took the risk of being ambushed, but even then, it would all be over.

The Yankee garrison was too weak and those mission walls were good against attacks from Indians, but not against a modern army with artillery.

As she stood on top of that wall next to her father, Consuelo de Quesada watched the troops as they stood at attention. Along with Mrs. Dickinson, wife of Lt. Dickinson, Consuelo de Quesada had refused to be evacuated. If Colonel Bowie was to fall, then she’d fall with him.

She wasn’t alone to have remained. The four daughters of Captain Blyth had been ill, and now it was too late. Ann, Mary, Rose-Anne and Meg were aged between thirteen and seventeen. Consuelo shuddered as she thought of all those things the Mexicans could do to these poor girls if they won—when they’d have won.

She trusted General Santa Anna and knew he was an honourable gentleman. She had met him a few years ago when she was growing up into a maiden in San Antonio.

Consuelo looked for Jeb, but there was no sign of him. She was about to go down to sickbay and see James for perhaps the very last time. Tears welled in her eyes.

She remembered the enemy General as a most social and amiable man in his forties; he used to be friends with her father in San Antonio. But now, as she saw him from afar, he looked fierce and warlike; he almost looked like a stylish brigand wearing a bicorn and a Navy blue uniform with golden epaulettes and much adornment, as was fit for a full General.

The General on his horse was looking through his long-view and he spotted Consuelo where she stood next to her father while looking down at the besieging troops—all those powder-blue uniforms with black shakos, standing disciplined at attention as the drums kept beating.

Consuelo watched those brown-faced soldiers with paralyzing fear. She knew instinctively that unless some miracle happened, they would win.

Her legs shivered! Her hands trembled! She felt a huge ball of terror inside her. She couldn’t speak. Her heart was racing; she was almost panting as she saw those long ladders the Mexicans carried.

Colonel Bowie was wounded and lying on a bed in sickbay. She had paid him a visit the night before. She had offered herself to him, but he was a gentleman to the very end. He had refused, said he wouldn’t do this unless they were married. He still talked about that farmhouse on that prairie while they both feared this wasn’t to be.

Consuelo was crying in silence, tears gently rolling down her spotless face while the light breeze played with her raven hair. She felt her breasts inside her corset and felt those enemy soldiers were already way too close!

She was still a virgin. The seductress within her felt a bit curious about knowing what if would be like to have a man inside her.

The drums stopped rolling.

In the Mexican army stood a pole, a 12-foot-high pole where a flag was hoisted. The blood-red flag. Crimson without hope. No quarters!

No quarters will be given! The Yankee men would all be massacred and then…

Mrs. Dickinson and all the other women were quickly ushered to the inner fort.

Consuelo de Quesada was already in sickbay. She kissed the man she love and cried bitterly in his arms. Colonel James Bowie sternly ordered her to go inside the inner fort and get ready to attend to the wounded men. They both prayed for a miracle.

In the inner fort, Mr. De Quesada took his post near a small cannon loaded with canister and pointing straight at the inner door. He had a loaded pistol and thought about saving the one ball of lead for his daughter to spare her from the outrage when the fort would fall, but he knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill his own flesh and blood. He was going to fight like a man against all odds. Right to the bitter end.

Lieutenant Dickinson stood near Colonel Crocket when the Mexican cannons started to speak their language or iron, gunpowder and destruction. Small impact craters appeared on the already-damaged stonewalls of Fort Alamo, with dust and smoke filling the air; the first Yankee casualties of the day fell with a cry and a grim thud.

The Mexican bugle boys let their brass instruments blow their antique winds of war. The entire Mexican regiment advanced as one man.

“¡Viva la república!”

“¡Viva la república!” the Mexicans yelled as they advanced and fired their shots. It was life or death.

The Americans fired a deadly accurate rifle volley, while their canister-loaded cannon was waiting until the bastards got close enough.

Some thirty to forty Mexicans fell in the first lines. A Major dropped like a sack of potatoes with a rifle ball in his head. Their comrades fired back and the resolute Mexicans charged on. A few Yankees fell while the others were reloading as fast as they could.

The final volley of American muskets was the deadliest and it came with the canister fired at only 20 yards! That canister dug a hole of carnage and twisted flesh and dismembered bodies through a whole platoon of advancing Mexicans. Many other attackers fell like tumbling playing cards along the ranks and files as the rifle balls hit them.

Two Mexican officers fell, another was hit through the eye by a ball and collapsed amid a heap of agonizing soldiers. The Yankees were shooting the officers first.

A Mexican Colonel raised his sabre and gave the order to charge on, and more and more attacking soldiers ran all the way to the wall!

Mexican ladders hit the white walls and soldiers got started on the deadly climb. Whoever was first inside the fort and survived the battle would get the first pick when they’d gang-rape the women.

Most of the first climbers were met with bayonets and sabres and rifle butts; they fell down the wall and into the dirt, but some made it to the top and used their bayonets with deadly effect.

Soon, the fight got close and deadly. Man to man! A primal struggle of life and death… Bayonets flashing at sunlight! Guts spilled in a bloody mess. An officer’s pistol fired! A screaming Mexican falls holding his face with both hands… Two new Mexicans suddenly there, and the Yankee officer tries to pull out his sabre, but he’s too late and he dies with stupor on his face and two bayonets inside him.

The screaming and shrieks of dying men were deafening.

Davy Crocket shot and killed that leading Colonel with his last remaining pistol, before five Mexicans charged him and skewered him with bayonets and hacked him down with their rifle butts for good measure.

Only Mexican muskets were fired now as the defenders were slaughtered and shot. More and more Mexicans climbed those outer walls. The outer fort was overrun!

The enemy was inside; they now stormed the low building. They opened the main gate and the cavalry troop rode right in and started to hunt down the surviving Yankees. This was when Captain Blyth slew a young cavalry Lieutenant with his sabre before succumbing himself between two soldiers who skewered him with their bayonets through his guts and back at the same time.

Most of the defenders now lay in the dust.

In sickbay, Colonel Bowie spent both his pistols on two hapless soldiers, but more soldiers stormed in, led by a fat officer, his ugly face looking like a Spanish rat as he brandished his sabre.

James Bowie used a desperate knife and slashed a man’s face, before Captain Botez—that was his name—sank his sabre inside him and three bayonets also stabbed James through the chest and through his neck in a blood bath. Every other wounded Yankee in sickbay was similarly slain or butchered.

Bowie died while reliving his lass kiss with Consuelo. He died with a monstrous erection as he pictured Consuelo barefoot and naked amid the victorious soldiers. He died regretting not having taking her last night when she was giving herself to him.

***

Inside the inner fort, Mr. De Quesada was waiting by the canister-loaded cannonade along with the last surviving defenders. Not far off to his right, Consuelo and Mrs. Dickinson were holding each other as men shut and bolted the inner door.

Consuelo suddenly ran to that closed door and was restrained by Yankee defenders, who were dazzled by how lovely she smelled as she cried James’s name…

“James! James! Noo! James! James! Let me out! Let me out! James! Oh, James… Aaa-haa-haa-hhaaaaa Haaaa-haaaaa-haaa! James…”

In tears and wailing, Consuelo was carried into the chapel, where one of the Yankee defenders groped her butt. This greatly shocked Consuelo, who noticed, but said nothing in her distressed state.

Not long after, there was a loud “BOMM!” that shook the inner door with dust under the intensifying sun. The Mexicans were masters of the outer fort, and there was no sign of Colonel Crocket. No Yankee officers remained standing in that inner fort.

“BOMMM!!!”

The inner door began to show weakness, already!

Outside that door, the battle-mad Mexicans used the battering ram under the orders of that same fat Captain who had just killed Colonel Bowie in sickbay. They were putting all their might into those battering strokes. Victory was just beyond that door!

“BOMMM!!!”

“¡Vamos, soldados! ¡Fuerte!”

“BOMMM!!!”

“¡Fuerte! ¡Fuerte! Remember! Their women will be ours! The General told me himself!”

“BOMMM!!!”

KKRRRRRRRKKKK kkkrr…

The inner door gave in as the bolt broke.

Shouting Mexicans stormed in through that broken door; the cannonade roared its deafening shot of canister, and most of the foremost men were turned into an unsightly mess of blood; one of them fell with his head half-ripped apart and brain matter dripping down along with his blood.

More Mexican soldiers charged inside the inner fort as the last Yankees made their stand while their women cowered back and tried to hide.

At the chapel’s door, Consuelo shrieked in terror along with Mrs. Dickinson as she saw her father and the few remaining defenders being encircled by a great many stern-faced Mexicans under their black shakos.

The place was now crowded with enemy soldiers. All was lost!

Mr. De Quesada was de facto commander of those last survivors. He yelled, “For our yellow rose of Texas!”

He fought like a lion! Shooting one young soldier with his pistol, then pulling out his thin sword and killing another man, before that fat Captain fired his own pistol and shot Mr. De Quesada in the belly at point-blank range.

Mr. De Quesada fell like a hero, with a raging erection under his trousers as he heard the panic screams of his daughter.

All the Yankee survivors were slaughtered, systematically, without mercy, as more and more of these powder-blue uniforms stormed into the inner fort.

A bugle was heard, announcing that Fort Alamo had fallen.

The fat Captain and many soldiers suddenly realized they had won. They cheered! “¡Viva la república!” “¡Viva la república!”

The Yankee women were now defenceless. They depended on how the victors felt.

Inside the chapel, Consuelo desperately tried to hide along with Mrs. Dickinson and many other women including the Blyth daughters. They didn’t want to show themselves before they were sure that General Santa Anna was there to honour his promise of a safe conduct.

This was the first place Captain Botez and his men looked.

No higher-ranking officers were present to guarantee honour and safety; the Yankee men were dead shots and had killed or wounded most of the Mexican officers.

The twisted result was that now, those victorious troops were but a band of brigands led by that fat, depraved Captain.

While soldiers were making sure all the enemy men on the ground were dead, as per the red no-quarter flag, the small church was filled with shrill screams of female panic as the fat Captain and his men began assaulting the women!

Consuelo bit a man’s hand and ran swiftly away and found her way outside, where she was promptly spotted and encircled by shako-wearing Mexicans, who began to catcall her and jeer, calling her a nice little señorita and a dirty little tramp.

As she ran in panic like a cornered hen, she pulled out a small pistol, but her trembling hand was too unsteady, and her legs were also trembling.

The pause she took to pull out the pistol was enough for the Mexican troops to rush at and grab her! Oh, God! She was so lovely to touch, even through her dress! And she smelled like heaven to those jeering men with dusty, sweaty faces of sun-baked skin.

Someone easily wrestled that pistol out of Consuelo’s hand as many men grabbed her and groped her all over her butt, hips, legs and bust…

The soldiers were now laying down their still-hot muskets and relieving themselves from any burden that would be unnecessary for the fiesta about to happen! Girls were shrieking elsewhere as they were found and pulled out of their hiding places.

“¡Ven aquí, señorita!” a fat, ugly man said as he stole a kiss from Consuelo, sickening her with his breath that reeked of aguardiente.

That fat officer holding and kissing Consuelo ordered the men to bend her over as he began to loosen his trousers and promptly unbuttoned them to let out a jutting erection! This was the first time Consuelo de Quesada saw that thing for real!

Horrified, Consuelo screamed to the point she only heard herself as she saw that thing of his and noticed that the vile man was a Captain. How could an officer behave like this?!

“¡Padre! ¡Papá! ¡Papá! ¡James, ohh, James!” she called out, then wailed and begged them to let her go as the grinning Mexicans forced her into a bent-over position while groping her everywhere at once, violating her dignity through her bright maroon dress of Tierra Sienna that added a touch of warmth to her hourglass figure.

They undid her belt and threw it away. Consuelo de Quesada felt their urgency, their madness! They were going to rape her! All of them! Nothing would prevent it! She was still a virgin at nearly nineteen years of age.

“Noooooo! Please! Naaaaaaa-oooooooo! I’m a maiden! Pleee-eeeeze DON’T! DON’T! Ahhhh Nnnaaaaaaoooooo! NaaaaooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! ¡Papá! ¡Papá! … James! James…”

Consuelo de Quesada begged and pleaded and wailed, reverting to her native Spanish and pointlessly trying to fight those men off.

The pack of grinning Mexicans called her a lovely young señorita and firmly restrained her arms and shoulders, holding her in that bent-over position as per the Captain’s orders, while a man stood right behind her, and she felt he was lifting up her maroon dress along with her ivory-white petticoat.

Her shawl of grey cashmere fell off her and lay in the dust, and was soon trod on by the overexcited Mexicans

There were loud catcalls as Consuelo felt the soft breeze directly hit her bottom and realized that all those Mexicans were now seeing her heart-shaped butt! No man had ever seen her intimate curves and her rosebud before that fateful day. Through her bitter sense of loss from knowing James was no more, she felt aroused and realized she was wet down there.

Consuelo de Quesada almost died of shame as a forest of Mexican hands felt her pure-white buttocks and ran all over its contours.

Captain Botez de San Toro loved the sight of Consuelo’s butt… heart-shaped curves with child-bearing hips, and all that fullness filled with light as the Texas sun showed it bright and crude!

Her butt was white and pristine, very pleasingly wide against that slim waist of hers…

Captain Botez saw the obscene crack of middle shadow that highlighted how incredibly soft and pale she was. Seeing this was so surreal! He must be dreaming!

As the jeering soldiers restrained her in that bent-over position, ready to be fucked, the sight of her legs and feet gave a finishing touch to his nearly painful erection.

Captain Botez de San Toro pushed urgently against her visible entrance as soldiers kept her torso horizontal and politely cheered on their capitán.

Consuelo de Quesada screamed her outrage!

“aaaaAAAAAHH! NAAAAOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! NOOOOO I BEG YOU, DON’T! SPARE MY HONOUR… My honour… AAAHHH NAAOOOOO… JAMES! JAMES, AHH JAMES, aaah-aaa-ahhhaaaaaa-aa aaaaaa…”

Consuelo wailed and begged! This couldn’t be happening! All the brave Yankees had died trying to protect her. Maybe James had died because of her!

With a primal grunt of pure elation, Captain Botez rammed himself inside Consuelo, very urgently, finding her entrance surprisingly wet and sliding. It gave way! He growled with joy as he realized he was inside her all the way, right to the hilt!

Consuelo screamed in agony!

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH! NAAAOOOOOOO! NOOOOO! NOOOOOO-OOO—- AAAAAAHH-AAAaaaaaaaaa, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa… Naaaoo-ooohoooo ooaaaa… Rrhaaaah-aaaah-aa aaaaaaaaa aaaaaaa… Stop this, bastard… Bastards!”

The fat Captain grabbed her slim waist, revelling in her shrill screams as he began raping Consuelo while standing behind her, his legs a bit wide apart in order to take her with the right angle for his own pleasure.

He didn’t care about her, but he loved the way she screamed and whimpered as he violated her from behind! Today was a lovely day for her to lose her honour!

“¡Oh Dios! ¡Oh Dios! ¡Oh Dios!” he uttered as he hammered Consuelo and slammed himself like a grunting baboon against her white buttocks, raping her with her maroon dress tucked all the way up while holding that wonderfully supple waist of hers!

Raped and deflowered amid the jeering Mexicans, the señorita kept on screaming and wailing, her vagina on fire, in great pain as the fat Captain tore inside her, learning to know her in her full depth; he took from her what she intended to give Colonel Bowie on their wedding night, which was never to be.

A full pack of grinning soldiers, now without shakos, had gathered around Consuelo de Quesada. They immensely enjoyed watching her being raped while still fully clothed, with her dress and petticoat tucked up to expose her butt and her all-important cunt.

“Let’s strip her naked!” a Corporal shouted.

“Yes, naked! ¡Desnuda! ¡Desnuda!” a soldier yelled.

Soon enough, the soldiers were all chanting, “¡Desnuda! ¡Desnuda!”

“¡Desnuda!”

The fat Captain kept bucking Consuelo de Quesada from behind, grunting and panting with a thick flow of slobber gushing down his wide-open mouth as he raped her with unfathomable delight!

It was even better than he had thought. His powerful erection delightfully grew even more inside the señorita.

The pot-bellied capitán loved how she wailed and whimpered under his unrestrained assaults!

She kept calling after a man named James. He didn’t care. He revelled in her raven hair and watched the virgin whiteness of her butt repeatedly colliding with him! Raping her felt so good!

A thickly bearded Sergeant, a massive bear of a man, stood over her and was using a knife to cut Consuelo’s dress from the back of her neck down to the small of her back while jeering soldiers restrained her arms, groped her, touched her raven hair, her butt!

They kept her in her bent-over position, her lovely face looking down at the ground, as the huffing-and-puffing Captain took his pleasure with crazy eyes of disbelief amid his fat olive face.

The conquistador Captain, his fat shaking under his uniform jacket, the threads on his epaulettes swaying along with his demented fervour, increased the pace of his strokes into a demented barrage of absolute madness as he passed his edge.

Consuelo’s white butt kept banging on him ragingly as he urgently concluded her social introduction with the victorious Mexicans.

He bolted, his face grinning like a demon! His entire being shivered! With a delight he never thought could exist, as he exploded and ejaculated shamelessly inside sobbing Consuelo! Amid the jeering and catcalling soldiers…

The fat Captain screamed his bliss!

“AAA, AAA-aaaaaaaaaaaaahhh… yaaaahhrRRRRnnnnnRRRRRRRHHH Oohhh Dios!!!”

His cock took a life of its own as bolts upon bolts of sperm shot out of him with a strong tide of swimmers that got lost past Consuelo’s torn hymen and into her womb as Captain Botez felt his legs go wobbly under him.

While Consuelo realized she had just taken that revolting man’s full load and wailed with a piercing cry, the bearded Sergeant who had cut her garments on her back opened Consuelo’s maroon dress on her ivory-white corset!

He then promptly slashed the corset’s back laces with his sharp knife, while a tall First Sergeant, stern-faced with a thick black moustache, took the Captain’s spot…

The stern-faced First Sergeant stood behind Consuelo and loved the feel of her as his mocha-coloured prick touched the naked butt of Consuelo de Quesada. He had darker skin as he had native blood. He was more brown than olive.

Soon enough, that Sergeant who looked like a deadly brigand was raping the noble señorita like a Mexican stallion, his legs wide behind the much shorter girl, while the other Sergeant urgently tore and discarded her destroyed corset and he avidly uncovered her pure-white backside by ripping her petticoat!

Shrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr… The ripping sound of tore linen was music for the Mexicans.

The troops loved the ungodly contrast of her pure skin against her black hair.

Consuelo, raped urgently with her dress now half-torn off, felt a confusion of pain, fathomless shame and notes of unwanted pleasure as that tall Mexican kept pounding her in silence, just grunting loudly. She felt his hands around her waist; he had a commanding grip and didn’t seem ashamed of what he was doing to her.

He shook her right down to her core amid the deafening jeers and catcalls from the lust-filled soldiers.

It was a brutal, primal rape where the brigand-like Sergeant enjoyed Consuelo’s pussy with his mouth wide open and frothing saliva dripping down his chin as he ravaged her and felt the quick surge of delight.

Her waist felt so supple under his hands! She had the loveliest butt he had ever seen. He loved to bounce those loaves of fleshy light against him as he enjoyed the fathomless pleasure! He was urgently raping a noble señorita in the aftermath of a hard-fought battle, right on the spot! Amid the dust and the shrill cries of Yankee women being raped as well.

The pitiful groans of agonizing men met Consuelo’s forced whimpers and yes, her moaning.

Consuelo’s youthful body was now forcing her to moan as it was quickly adapting to the shaking assaults and flooded her womanhood with juices.

Her raven head of long hair, now loose and free-flowing, kept bobbing while she felt all those enemy hands running through her hair; they seemed to really like her hair. She closed her eyes, red with tears, and tried to think she was being bucked by James. He was dead!

“James! Oh, James… Aaaahh naaaooo! Nooo! Aaahh-aaaaaahh, James… Aaa-haaa… aaaaaa, aaaa, aaaAAAAHH NAAOOO! AOHH, aooh, ooh, oohh…” she moaned.

That brute came inside her, erupting like a volcano and flooding her with a hot load of seed as he forcefully groaned with absolute satisfaction. She was so good to fuck! What a prize for taking Fort Alamo! So many of his friends lay dead in the dirt. She had to pay for this!

The moustached Sergeant pulled out of her and let go one ultimate bolt of seed that landed smack on the snow-white butt of Consuelo!

He watched the ensuing scene with absolute delight and kept his trousers unbuttoned.

Soldiers were now completely removing her cut and torn dress. Any remnants of her petticoat was ripped off her bright-white torso and discarded. They took immense pleasure in hearing the sounds of tearing fabric as she kept screaming and begging them to stop…

They were all smiling and laughing, calling her a lovely little tramp. They were undressing Consuelo de Quesada!

The Mexicans tore and ripped whatever remained of her petticoat. They tossed those rags away, leaving her in the nude except for her ankle-high leather shoes.

Nude amid all those grinning lowly soldiers, amid the rank-and-file, Consuelo de Quesada wailed and cried out, feeling such humiliation as she never thought could be felt.

They whistled and catcalled as they enjoyed seeing Consuelo de Quesada in the nude! A noble señorita! She flooded their eyes with the blinding grace of her white butt and the refined lines of her legs.

The celebrating Mexicans forced her to stand amid them in her leather shoes, holding her and groping her everywhere while kissing her all over!

Consuelo’s full and perky breasts hit all the nearby men with something they never thought they would ever see.

They rushed at her. They avidly cupped and kneaded and otherwise played with her breasts.

Many of them remembered seeing her from afar when she stood on top of that white wall. They were now unable to believe they were touching and kissing the splendour of her milky hills and her wine-brownish nipples! A noble señorita…

She was gorgeous and they were all going to gang-rape her, again, again and again.

With horror, Consuelo saw Mrs. Dickinson half-naked with her blue dress wide open and her tits jiggling as she shook under the most vigorous assaults of a young soldier, who smiled down on the blonde widow and grunted like a sick bear as he gave her his best strokes.

Mrs. Dickinson took him between her legs, legs that were forced wide open and all too visible with her dress and petticoat tucked up all the way to her waist.

Consuelo watched, unable to look away; she felt aroused by the rapist’s olive buttocks between Mrs. Dickinson’s pale legs.

Mrs. Dickinson took the rape in silence, sobbing quietly as her head kept bobbing on the dirt with her long golden hair now undone and making a blanket of bright waves under her bobbing head.

Another girl was tearing the air with her pitiful wails…

“Aaaaaahahhhh! Please! Nooo! Noo-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOO NNAAAA-AAAAA-AAAA-AAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!”

It was Ann! Ann Blyth, daughter of the departed Captain Blyth. They wouldn’t dare! She was only thirteen! Yes they would.

Consuelo only saw flashes of her, for she was deep amid a jam-packed crowd of eagerly waiting men who were either pinning her down on the ground or masturbating.

Consuelo had no time to think about the others. Her numerous circle of Mexicans catcalled and jeered as they contemplated or touched, kissed and licked the defiled beauty of her tits, of her butt, her legs… her face and hair…

The uniformed Mexicans clapped their hands and kept calling her a “noble señorita” as they enjoyed her naked assets, unable to wrap their heads around how beautiful she truly was in the nude.

A young bugle boy was frantically undoing her shoes as they forced Consuelo to lean with her back against that same cannonade that had fired canister when they first charged in the inner fort.

Consuelo felt the still-warm cannon, skin on steel, against her bare back as they pinned her there.

The bugle boy finished taking off her shoes; he began touching and caressing her feet, in a way she liked. Consuelo looked down at him and was struck by the fact he was no older than thirteen years old, and this aroused her in a way she never imagined…

But then the boy was tossed aside, brutally, by the same Sergeant who had cut the laces of her corset.

He had his grey uniform trousers down and Consuelo saw how big he was! He was so stout and broad-shouldered, with a fat-brown face, a tequila-drinking gut and an incredibly big cock that he was holding, showing it to Consuelo as he grinned from the depth of his thick, pitch-black beard.

“Noooo! Nno, nooo! NOOOOOOOO STOP THIS! STOP! MY HONOUR! NOOOOOOO! James! James, aaahh, James, aaaah-aaa aaaa, James…”

Consuelo screamed, wailed and begged as jeering soldiers restrained her limbs and revelled in her beauty, keeping her pinned against that silent cannonade.

The Mexicans forced her legs wide open and all had a raging erection as they contemplated the intense triangle of black hair between her pale legs—ohh, Dios! What a sweet cunt for such a lovely señorita!

So gorgeous were Consuelo’s legs and her dainty feet! Oh, it was so wonderful to see her barefoot! Victory went with such a sweet prize.

The burly, black-bearded Sergeant wedged himself between her legs and stooped down.

Amid the savage jeering, amid the soldiers who exclaimed, “¡Viva la república!” the Sergeant kissed and sucked Consuelo’s titties, the most gorgeous pair he had ever seen, and then he rose and licked her cheek as she looked away in disgust, and the stout Mexican caught a silky shuffle of her hair on his sun-baked face.

He smiled, covered in sweat under the hot sun. The moment was priceless.

He then pushed his cock inside Consuelo’s cum-drenched pussy and sank inside heaven, contemplating the penetration of his own flesh inside her lovely cunt of black hair.

“AAAHRRRR…” the black-bearded Sergeant roared, looking down at her with his expression filled with the most primal satisfaction as he felt himself deep inside Consuelo de Quesada!

Filled with his throbbing dagger, her pussy distended, Consuelo yelped and winced with pain, her pretty face suddenly distorted and looking as if she had just swallowed a dozen of bitter lemons as he began to give her a relentless barrage of deeply felt strokes.

Her tits were so lovely to watch as they jiggled along with her bobbing head, with her long black hair now loose and shaken in dark waves of violated mystery! She was well worth the trouble of undressing her!

The stout Sergeant found her silky thighs and he cupped her butt for added leverage, holding her hard and high, feeling his hands and fingers sink in the softness of her buttocks as he got deeper inside her.

The stout Mexican Sergeant raped her with his face right over the surreal display of her jiggling tits, violating Consuelo de Quesada right against that grim-black cannon in a crazy dance that marked her deflowering, under the bright sun of Texas.

He loved that bouncing display of her intensely white tits with dots of shadow underscoring her wine-brownish nipples and the perfect circles of her contrasting areolas, where subtle goose bumps were to be seen.

***

General Santa Anna stood by, saying nothing, doing nothing. He drank sips from a bottle of tequila and watched with great delight as that stout Sergeant kept pounding her, grunting like a mating bear as he raped her amid a crowd of Mexican soldiers with her back pinned against that dead-silent cannonade in the aftermath of the assault.

Consuelo’s father was still breathing. The critically wounded man wasn’t spared the horrific scene! He wished her were dead.

Her beloved daughter… Gang-raped with her back against that cannonade and whimpering under that gross Sergeant as her aristocratic legs were forced to brush the sides of his powder-blue uniform.

The black-bearded Sergeant raped Consuelo with his mouth wide open as he urgently pounded her and intensified his thrusts, holding nothing back as her wonderfully white tits jiggled in their full glory under that harsh Texas sun!

He twitched inside the señorita, who bitterly wailed and cried, her face deformed with pain and shame as her gaze met her father’s and she realized he was still alive.

She wailed loud in the brute’s arms…

“AAAAAA-AAAAAAAAA-AAA-AAAaaaa aaaaaa… Rhhaaaa-haaa—hhhaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaa…! Naaahaaaaooo-hhooo oooo aaaaaaa… Naaoooo! Naooo! AAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAA aaa…”

“¡Mi hija!¡Mi querida hija!” the mortally wounded father exhaled as he was himself ashamed of his half erection from seeing the savage display of her jiggling breasts under that stout man, and her bright legs against that hated uniform.

Then, the Sergeant bolted and looked like a broken automaton as he frantically pounded the naked señorita.

Time stopped. The black-bearded Mexican shouted a patriotic war cry as he blissfully emptied his stores of semen inside Consuelo de Quesada…

“¡Viva la república! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARARRRRRHH NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGHHDDJDJ Uuggh… ¡Oh, Dios!”

Consuelo died morally, in front of her father, as he filled her up with his hot sludge.

That bear of a man, panting and profusely sweating, pulled out and watched his own semen dripping out of her dark-hairy pussy.

General Santa Anna took a sip of tequila as he watched the unthinkable scene. He was loving this! He noticed her father was still breathing and looking at his raped daughter. That would teach him not to stand against the Republica of Mexico!

Consuelo saw the General, who just stood by and drank his tequila. She was shocked! Why wasn’t he ordering his men to stop?! Didn’t he have any honour?!

“¡Viva la república!” shouted several soldiers.

“¡Viva la república!”

“¡Viva la republica!”

The patriotic soldiers screamed, and some were stripping themselves naked, as they contemplated Consuelo de Quesada in her naked glory.

Her breasts were full orbs and slightly pointy; her brownish nipples were looking at them from those graceful orbs that had just the right amount of shadow underscoring their sunlight-filled splendour!

Consuelo’s pale breasts were now swollen from the forced pleasure she had experienced in the arms of that stout hairy Sergeant, and also from the pleasure she was now shamefully experiencing from feeling all those Mexican gazes on her bust.

Consuelo’s breasts wonderfully broke the natural slenderness of her figure and seemed to say, “this is what we look like! Didn’t you know? Now you do!”

She realized with a shock that her father was looking at her… at her bust! And this flooded her with waves of immoral arousal.

The Mexicans kept avidly sucking, licking and kissing her on every inch of her body, looking like a pack of heathens who desecrated the Catholic señorita. They had forgotten their own religion.

Consuelo de Quesada remembered the way her tits felt inside her corset when she stood over that wall and looked down on those same soldiers. And do what she will, her body now forced moans out of her as her bust and the rest of her received all their heated attentions. They were mostly caressing and kissing her everywhere.

The chapel was filled with the shrill screams of girls being gang-raped.

One man was now fingering her fully exposed cunt. She looked down, past the head of another man who was sucking her tits, and she realized that the man fingering her was a boy. It was that bugle boy who had removed her shoes before caressing her feet; she could only see his black hair as he looked down at her black carpet of velvety cunt hair. Maybe this was his first time seeing a señorita from so close.

Again, she felt intense arousal from having this done to her by such a young boy.

“¡Viva la república!”

“¡Viva la república!”

k’POW! k’POW! k’POW! k’POW! k’POW-pow-po-po-k’POwhh!

Ten of fifteen Mexicans fired a musket volley into the blue sky as they celebrated the capture of Fort Alamo. The fallen fort was now filled with grunts from victorious men taking their prize inside the women who endured the orgy of rapes either silent and despaired or loudly screaming toward that blue sky of Texas.

As she was being fingered amid those deafening cheers and catcalls, Consuelo de Quesada felt the gaze of her dying father upon her naked, fallen grace.

She heard the shrill screams of Ann Blyth being violated again, again and again, lost amid that pack of animals, and felt so bitterly sorry for the young maiden.

Consuelo de Quesada felt a deep sense of loss and despair, yet her body betrayed her as she felt that bugle boy’s finger inside her.

She knew she was close to her edge.

The bugle boy rose to his feet, and Consuelo, panting, saw he was shorter than herself. The humiliation she felt out of this caused her to literally implode with arousal.

Encouraged by his adult comrades, the boy looked into his eyes; he looked shy. He nonetheless grabbed his raging erection and tried to enter inside her.

Consuelo couldn’t help it. She moved herself in such a way as to meet the boy’s cock; she felt so curious to know what it would feel like to be raped by a boy so much younger than her. He was about thirteen.

He suddenly found his way and entered her, causing Consuelo to scream out in absolute forced pleasure as she wrapped her legs around the bugle boy and he began raping her with his light-grey flannel trousers down.

Consuelo de Quesada moaned like a puta in a Mexican brothel as she tightened the wrap of her alluring legs around that young boy, who found a steady rhythm in his novice strokes, yet he was forceful inside the five-year-older señorita.

He was so short that his face was right at her breasts, and he began kissing them as he kept taking her deep and forcefully as the other soldiers held her in position for him with her bare back on that same cannon.

Consuelo felt the steel against her back and moaned louder and louder in the boy’s arms, filling his kisses and his tongues on her nipples…

Suddenly, Consuelo de Quesada screamed and exploded in a girl’s heaven amid the Mexican soldiers, who all laughed.

Her father lay in the dust and watched. He loved the display of her dainty feet where she crossed her ankles behind the boy, imprisoning him inside her legs.

The bugle boy suddenly shouted, “AAAAAHH YYYYAAAAHHHHHHHHRRRRRRR!!!”

And Consuelo took his hot relief deep inside her with intense waves of pleasure rolling all throughout her, causing her to moan out loudly as she clenched her fists where soldiers restrained her wrists on either side of her head of long raven hair. She arched her back against that cannonade and powerfully climaxed again.

This was that boy’s first time; she was sure of it.

The General looked at the scene and smiled. He had lost so many men in the assault, but it was worth it. She was worth it.

Still holding his bottle of tequila, he walked toward Consuelo and unbuttoned his trousers as the soldiers respectfully made way for their bicorn-wearing General.

General Antonio López de Santa Anna grinned as he saw that Mr. De Quesada was still breathing and gazing at his daughter.

Now, he was going to rape Consuelo de Quesada with her father watching. Fate was giving him the satisfaction.

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