Disclaimers:

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 OR EASILY OFFENDED BY SEXUAL MATERIAL,

BONDAGE, DISCIPLINE, FEMALE SUBMISSION OR OTHER SEXUAL SITUATIONS.

The Queen of Swords, a.k.a. Maria Teresa Alvarado, Colonel Montoya, Captain

Grisham and other characters and places are the property of Fireworks

Productions. No infringement of copyright is intended or revenue expected

from their use in this story. This is nothing but a parody of this fine TV

show.

Please direct all comments and feedback to dark_one@live.com.

QUEEN OF SWORDS: THE CHRISTMAS BANDITO’S GIFT

By Dark One

The Queen of Swords stood atop the church overlooking the main plaza of the

tiny town, called a pueblo, in the Spanish colony of Alta California. She

was on the lookout for the thief called the Christmas Bandito. He only

struck during the Christmas season. This was his third year to rob the

citizens of Santa Helena. Since Colonel Montoya and Captain Grisham didn’t

seem concerned enough to have extra soldiers out patrolling at night, the

Queen took up the cause herself.

“You fail the people in so many ways, mi Colonel,” the Queen of Swords

said, eyeing the military governor’s residence across the zócalo, the town

square. “I will deal with you later.”

It was the night before Christmas. Christmas Eve. And there was a nip in

the air. Enough nip to make her wish she had a cloak. All she wore was

black silk shirt and tight pants. A black corset cinched her tiny waist

outside of the shirt, the audacity of which always gave the soldiers a

reason to pause and gawk. Her long, straight sword hung from a wide silver

sword belt, hidden beneath a crimson sash wrapped around her flaring hips.

Black gloves kept her hands protected and warm. A black lace mask hid her

true identity – Senorita Maria Teresa Alvarado.

“Ah-ha!” she said, seeing a movement in the nightshadows. “I do believe I

have achieved more success than the Colonel and Captain have managed in

three years of predation.”

A shadowy shape eased out the window of a shop, and moved over to the

window of the adjacent shop. Only the Christmas Bandito, or someone

emulating him, would be doing that. She had her man on the first night.

“I don’t see why Montoya couldn’t have done this three years ago,” she

said. “Except he doesn’t care. Keeping the people impoverished plays into

his plans.”

The Queen of Swords quickly climbed down off the church. In no time she

was outside the still open window into the cloth merchant’s shop. She

waited patiently, time on her side. He would be back, so no reason to risk

following him in and maybe getting conked on the head by the frightened

merchant.

Soon enough, she heard a faint rustling sound from inside the window. A

moment later, first a booted foot, then a head emerged from the window. The

Christmas Bandito slid out quietly, then reached back in and pulled out a

cloth sack partially filled with stolen goods.

“Feliz Navidad, muchacho,” the Queen of Swords said quietly from the

shadows.

The Queen was pleased to see him jump, and whirl around. His dark eyes

searched the alley’s shadows to no avail. Her black clothes hid her well.

So she stepped out into the moonlight, letting him see her.

“The Queen of Swords?” he said. His voice deep and vaguely familiar.

Like the Queen of Swords, the Christmas Bandito was dressed in all black

and wore a simple leather facemask that covered the upper half of his face.

Much like her own black lace mask. He had a thin mustache and strong chin.

And he was tall and strongly built, and looked like he could use the

straight sword he wore at his hip.

“Buenas Noches, Senorita,” he said and bowed. “What a pleasure to finally

meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“And I’ve heard nothing good about you, Senor,” she said, stepping closer.

She made a show of looking him over, with obvious distaste. “How dare you

steal from honest, hard working people, especially on this most holy of

nights.”

“Ah, a thief chiding another for stealing,” he said. “Mi Bandita, I work

my angle, you work yours. I’d rather steal from the innocent, all but

helpless, a few nights a year, then steal from the Colonel and his trigger

happy soldiers all year. It’s much safer my way.”

“Safe is not the issue, Christmas Bandito,” she said. “I am not a bandita,

in the same sense as you are a bandito. I steal back the money Montoya

steals and extorts from the people and then I return it. You steal for

profit. Big difference.”

“I see, you consider yourself a champion of the downtrodden,” he said

dismissively. “How quaint. And stupid.”

The Queen pulled a dueling pistol from her belt and pointed at his chest.

At three feet, she couldn’t miss. She saw it in his eyes the realization

he was caught.

“Turn around and raise your hands,” she said.

Obeying her command, he said, “What are you going to do? Kill me on La

Noche Buena?”

Her beautiful dark eyes narrowed. How dare him accuse her of planning

murder on Christmas Night, La Noche Buena. He was such an irritating man.

But she had a better plan. She would bind his wrists, making him helpless,

then take him out into the desert. There, she would unmask him and

“blackmail” him into taking the straight and narrow path. The Queen

couldn’t turn him into Montoya, who would take credit for his capture and

hang him summarily. No, too many men died on Colonel Montoya’s gallows.

“I’m putting you out of business,” she said.

The Queen of Swords stepped up behind him. First, she put the pistol back

under her belt, then pulled out a length of tough leather binding to secure

his wrists. Then she reached up and seized his right wrist and pulled it

down and behind him.

“No!” he said, twisting and seizing her wrist instead.

Before the Queen realized her danger, he had her wrist twisted behind her

back. A second later, he pushed her forward and brutally smashed her into

the stucco wall across the alley.

“Ooffff!” she cried, her wind forced from her lungs. Then he rammed a knee

into her ribs. “Aaaiiiee.”

Finally, he seized her hair at the back of her head, and slammed her

forehead into the wall, once, twice, three times. Only the fact she was

pressed up against the wall kept her up at that point. Her head was

spinning wildly, and she barely understood what was happening now. She just

knew she was in extreme danger.

“Dios mio! Enough, por favor!”

“It’s never enough, mi amor,” he said harshly in her ear. She was spun

around, and he kneed her in the twat. The pain was incredible. “I’m so

sorry, mi amor, but I’m afraid love hurts.” He kneed her again, “Feliz

Navidad, Senorita. Feliz Navidad.”

And he kneed her pussy twice more, dropping her to her knees at his feet.

Then he knelt down on one knee and cupped her pain stricken face.

“How about a Christmas kiss, mi amor?”

The Christmas Bandito’s lips pressed against hers, then slid across the

Queen’s full, luscious lips. He groaned as he savored the moment. In

severe pain and shock, the Queen let him have his way, playing for time to

recover. It was her only chance to escape. But then his hand reached up

and fondled her right breast through her black silk shirt.

“No, don’t do that, por favor,” she breathed. “It’s la Noche Buena.”

“Consider it your present to me, mi amor,” he said, and kissed her

savagely. At the same time his hand slipped inside her shirt and cupped her

tit. Then she bit down on his lip. “Ahhhh! Puta!”

The bandito backhanded the Queen brutally. She fell back in a daze. Then

he spotted the bull whip wrapped around her narrow waist, and seized the

handle. With a strong jerk, the Queen of Swords was spun off the whip and

rolled to the base of the wall, now dizzy as well as beaten and dazed.

With the whip, the Christmas Bandito bound her wrists behind her back.

Then he unfastened her corset, opened her shirt and finally pulled her tight

pants down around her boot tops. Shame compounded on defeat and fear flamed

up the Queen’s beautiful face.

“What a beautiful sight to behold, a beautiful woman bound and stripped at

my feet and mercy,” he said smugly. He squatted beside her, then ran a

rough hand over her breasts, across her firm belly, and finally stopped on

her pubic mount of black, curly hairs. “I see fear in your pretty eyes,

Senorita Bandita.”

“You will not get away with this, bandito,” she snarled.

He started unfastening his pants.

“Well, mi amor, if I’m not going to get away with this, then I had better

do a lot of “this” to not get away with, don’t you think” he said smugly.

“No! You’ve done too much,” she said. “Just go. Escape while you can.

One of Montoya’s soldiers will be by shortly on routine patrol.”

“I know,” he said, his cock freed and rock hard. He eased between her

spread legs. “I have plenty of time before his arrival. Of course, by the

time he gets here there won’t be anything to find but a well fucked Queen of

Swords, tied up with her own whip.”

She tried to head butt him, but he proved too quick. Chuckling, the

Christmas Bandito pressed his cock against her moist twat and pushed. As

the head of his dick penetrated her outer lips, and pushed into the vagina

underneath, he watched her lovely eyes widen in comprehension and fear.

Then another thrust pressed him up against her taut hymen.

“Madre de dios!” she cried. “Mercy!”

“Would you like to kiss me now, mi amor?”

“Yes, por favor, anything,” she said, desperate. She licked her full lips,

leaving them glistening enticingly in the moonlight. “Just don’t deflower

me. I would be ruined! That would make me a puta.”

He cupped both tits and squeezed. Her eyes closed and she groaned low. He

lowered his lips to hers, and this time she kissed back when they pressed

together. Their lips slid back and forth across each other. He nibbled on

her lower lip, and then kissed her more deeply. Her lips parted ever so

slightly, allowing his tongue in to explore. He teased her tongue until she

responded in kind.

The Christmas Bandito quickly had the Queen of Swords panting beneath him.

He enjoyed her quiet desperation, a desperate need to please him so he would

be “merciful.” But he didn’t feel very merciful that night. At least where

she was concerned.

“Mi amor, you have a certain talent with your tongue,” he said huskily.

“As do you, Senor.”

They spent several more minutes in passionate kissing, then he released her

lips and kissed his way across her smooth cheek, just below the lacy mask,

and to her ear. Her captor nibbled at her ears a moment, then thrust his

hot, wet tongue deep into her ear.

“Tell me you love me,” he whispered in her ear.

The Queen swallowed hard. She did not want to lie to him. And more, she

did not want to say those words. Her body was already overheated with

passion and unwanted need. If he started controlling her mind and feelings,

she would be totally helpless. But she could feel his throbbing cock still

inside her vagina, pressing dangerously against her maidenhead.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He kissed her lips ever so gently, and made her say it again. Then kissed

her more deeply, and made her say it again, and again, each time kissing her

more and more deeply. Soon, her voice was as husky as his, as she said, “I

love you.”

He smiled cruelly, and said, “Say it again, mi amor.”

“I love…,” and he pushed through her hymen, “…uhhhhhggghhh, you.”

“Say ‘mi amor’ when you said it now.”

He pushed half his cock into her pussy. She felt it all the way to her

toes. Her body’s reaction was immediate and profound. The Queen felt her

cunt adjusting to the intrusion, and felt a warmth suddenly spreading

through her already overheated body

“Say it,” he demanded angrily.

“I love you, mi amor,” she whispered, staring up wide eyed into his

triumphant face. “Ohhh, mi amor, you promised not to deflower me. Why?”

“Ah, mi amor, I did not promise anything,” he said. He almost pulled out,

then thrust back into her, deeper and deeper. Her back arched and her eyes

rolled up. He did it again, and again, and again. He could feel the Queen

was at the brink of losing it. “Besides, haven’t you heard that there is no

honor among thieves?”

“Please, mi amor, do not make me…,” he thrust again, and the Queen felt the

tingle throughout her body change to that rush to climax, “….Uugghhhh.

Madre de Dios! Forgive me!”

The orgasm rolled over her brutally. Never did she dream it would be like

that. It was the most wonderful thing she’d ever felt, ever experienced.

She suddenly wanted another, and another, and another. How could she have

lived so long without it?

“Dios mio! What did you do to me?”

“I opened you up to the joys of men,” he said with supreme

self-satisfaction, “Now, I will be merciful.”

The Christmas Bandito surprised the captured Queen by pulling out of her

completely. She instantly felt supreme relief. If he had cum inside her,

and she got pregnant, then she would be roundly considered a harlot, a puta.

Her reputation would never recover, and men might start taking unfair

sexual advantage of her. She could very easily be forced by Montoya to

marry his lap dog Grisham, so he could steal her hacienda.

And she would be powerless to stop them.

“Now you will be merciful to me, mi amor, and relieve my aching cock,” he

said, moving up and pressing the sticky, slimy cock against her full lips.

“Suck it, Senorita.”

“Yes, mi amor,” she whispered dejectedly.

The Queen of Swords was forced to open her mouth and suck in his putrid

cock. She tasted her own juices mixed with his as she sucked and licked him

clean, all the while giving him great pleasure. The bandito quickly began

giving directions, since she’d never done anything like this before. She

wasn’t completely innocent, having listened to some of her more adventurous

noble girlfriends back in Madrid discuss their sexual escapades, and all the

deliciously wicked things they did to and for their lovers. So, she vaguely

knew what was expected, but never thought she’d be doing this vile deed to

anyone but her legal husband, if then.

The Queen of Swords sucked his cock long and hard. She would bob on it a

while, then give head a few minutes. Occasionally, she licked the length of

the shaft down one side and back up the other. She even licked, nibbled on

and sucked on his scrotum and cójones.

The Christmas Bandito loved every minute of it, and even ventured to say

she was the best he ever had. Finally, though, all good things come to an

end.

She felt him stiffen even more, then become more frantic as he fucked her

face. The Queen realized with shock he was about to cream her mouth. So

she redoubled her efforts, praying he released her when through. But she

wasn’t prepared when he finally loosed his seed. Her cheeks ballooned out,

full to the max with creamy cum.

“Swallow it.”

With a disgusted look, she obeyed and swallowed gulp after gulp of his hot

seed. Some escaped her lips, dribbling down her chin. He shot two spurts

into her mouth, then suddenly pulled out and started stroking his own cock.

Three more hot spurts shot out, creaming her face.

“That felt good, mi amor,” he said, breathing heavily as he cleaned his

cock with her long, dark hair. “But I’ve got more homes and shops to rob,

and I’ve wasted too much time with you here. Good luck.”

With that, the Christmas Bandito stood up, fastened his trousers and

marched off into the night, taking his clothe bag of loot with him. She

watched him leave, open mouthed. The patrol would be by soon, and Montoya’s

soldiers would arrest her and take her to her doom.

Or at least that was his plan.

The Queen of Swords had other plans. She watched him leave through

narrowed, dark eyes. She would have her vengeance, and he would rue the day

he crossed swords with her.

Once the Christmas Bandito was out of sight, she began struggling. The

braided whip didn’t make the best bindings. She quickly slipped loose and

pulled up her pants. Then she buttoned her shirt and found her corset

discarded in the nightshadows. Putting the corset back on wasn’t easy

without her servant, Marta, to help tighten it up. But before long the

Queen of Swords was back in her full glory.

With pistol, sword and whip, the Queen of Swords went in search of the

Christmas Bandito with fire in her dark eyes. He wasn’t hard to find, but

this time she spotted him sneaking past Montoya’s guards and into the

military governor’s spacious casa.

“He’s a bold one, I give him that,” she muttered. “If he escapes tonight,

Montoya will be quite vigilant next Christmas. I can only assume he plans

to move on to another pueblo after tonight.”

The Queen of Swords easily evaded detection by the bleary eyed guards

posted around Montoya’s casa. No one expected the Queen to try and break in

on Christmas Night, and she already knew Montoya didn’t even consider the

Christmas Bandito a threat.

“Wrong on two counts, mi Colonel,” she said, grinning roguishly.

Slipping into the same window the Christmas Bandit entered, the Queen

pulled her sword and moved deeper into the darkened room. The door was left

open, so she passed through as well. She suspected he was heading for the

office, where the colonel kept most of his valuables behind iron bars. But

before she’d gone two steps she heard a faint noise in the other direction.

Following that ever so faint rustling, she found the Christmas Bandito deep

in Montoya’s basement.

She watched from the shadowed stairs as the bandito found hidden

hidey-holes she didn’t suspect existed. He was finding looted treasures and

quickly filling his sack of ill-gotten loot.

“You seem to be having a prosperous day, Senor Bandito,” the Queen said,

quickly moving down the rest of the stairs to confront him. She presented

her sword with a flourish. “Drop the sack and your sword, mi muchacho.”

“Not ‘mi amor’ any more?” he said with an infuriatingly smug smile.

“I have no love for you, bandito,” she snarled. She pointed her sword tip

at his sack of loot. “Drop the bag of goodies and your sword.”

Dropping the sack with a loud CLANG, he raised his hands and said, “What?

Not going to tie my wrists behind my back? It’s only fair, since I bound

your wrist, just before I FUCKED you STUPID.”

Anger flash in her dark eyes. Her heart pounded in her ears.

“Wait until I tell everyone that I captured and fucked the Queen of Swords,

and she LIKED it,” he taunted. “Oh, how you LOVED being fucked.” He leered

at her a second, “How do you think the people will feel about knowing their

beloved Queen of Swords is a raging harlot, a sex starved, panting PUTA.”

“Shut up,” she said, eyes narrowed and sword hand trembling. “Do you want

me to kill you right here and now? It that it?”

“Well, it is preferable to being hanged by Colonel Montoya,” he said,

shrugging. Then he leered at her again, pointing at her twat with one hand

and grabbing his crotch with the other. “After all, I did impale you on my

man sword, deflowering you and robbing you of your virtue.”

Trembling, the Queen tried desperately to calm her raging emotions. This

was not the time. He was using her again, trying to force her hand. But

she would not have his blood on her hands. She would let Montoya hang him

for his crimes, and God knew he deserved to hang after what he did to her.

“No one will believe you,” she said, comforted by the words, if not truly

believing them. Unfortunately, people had a bad habit of believing the

worst in others. Even their heroes. “You’re insane boasts will be the

yammering of the doomed and desperate. It will not save you from Montoya’s

justice.”

“Maybe not,” he said, and pulled his sword in a flash, “But I suggest you

worry more about who will save you.”

The Queen lunged at him. He parried and danced aside. She followed --

thrust, parry, slash -- chasing him across the dark basement. The Queen

soon realized he was a better swordsman than anticipated. Damn good, in

fact. But she was better, and was determined he should know it, too.

For several minutes they pushed each other back and forth across the

basement. Neither could break past the other’s guard. The Queen began to

fear he might escape, because it was getting dangerously close to dawn.

Montoya and the whole town would rise earlier than normal to go to sunrise

services.

The Christmas Bandito raised his sword and stepped back. He looked winded

and a little desperate as well. Looking around, he did a double take and

eased over to a crate.

“What is this?” he asked, all but ignoring her.

The Queen of Swords moved closer, her sword on guard and ready to thrust or

parry if he was so bold as to attack her. He was rubbing something atop the

crate, but it was too dark for her to discern what it was that captured his

attention.

“Gold,” he breathed worshipfully.

“Gold?”

She stepped closer and peered intently at what the bandito was using his

hand to push into a pile from all sides. Could it really be gold dust? And

why would Montoya have it just sitting loose atop a crate?

Then the bandito grabbed a handful and flung it in her face.

“Aaiiee!” she cried, feeling the bite of course sand in her eyes. “My

eyes.”

She backpedaled desperately, flourishing her sword protectively before her

to ward off any attack. The Queen heard him following, and soon felt the

clash as their swords crossed. She tried to anticipate him, his thrusts and

slashes. She was, after all, a very gifted sword fighter.

“A-ha!” he cried, catching her sword just right and smashing it from her

grasp.

“No,” she said, dashing to the right.

The Queen of Swords, half blinded, ran straight into a wall. Her head

bounced off the stone and she staggered back into the Christmas Bandito’s

arms. He shoved her hard into the wall, then moved in to pound his brutal

fists into her back, pounding the wind and strength out of her. Finally,

she slid slowly down the wall.

Defeated.

He found some rope and quickly bound her wrists behind her back. Then he

turned her to face him. She looked up at his leering face through bleary

eyes. Shame burned her lovely face. Twice defeated by this miscreant, in

the same night.

“This time, I’m not taking any chances,” the Christmas Bandito said. “I’m

going to find out your true identity first.”

He reached for her mask.

“Madre de dios! No!” she cried, cringing back.

He slapped her, and then backhanded her on the return. Her eyes rolled up

a moment. But he waited for her to recover. She had to know what he was

doing, to feel all the fear and dread. He wanted to see it in her eyes.

See it in the way she held her body.

Pulling her Main Gauche dagger, he pressed the tip to her slender throat

and watched as she recognized the threat. A look of cool detachment claimed

her face and she looked away from him.

He pressed his face into hers, “You are mine, mi amor.”

The Queen swallowed hard and stiffened as his other hand reached for her

lacy mask. Her breath caught as his hand touched the lace. Then he hooked

a finger under the mask, and pulled it up. In seconds, her face was

revealed.

“Maria Teresa Alvarado,” he breathed, awed. “I would’ve never suspected

you. You are such a spoiled, girlie creature.” He shook his head in

amazement. “Brilliant disguise.”

“Thank you, bandito,” she said sullenly. She shook the hair out of her

face and slanted a pleading girl look up at him. “Now what, mi amor?”

He laughed.

“I conquered you with sex, but I won’t even give you the chance to return

that favor, mi amor,” he said. Then his eyes hardened as he pulled the

black lace mask back down to hide her identity. “Your reign, my Queen, has

ended.”

The Queen of Swords was quickly stripped. One sleeve of her shirt was

ripped up, with a large wad stuffed into her mouth, and the rest used to tie

it in place. Her clothes were bundled up and he gathered her weapons. Then

she was forced to head back up the stairs at sword point, with only the rope

on her wrists and mask on her face. She was taken to the top floor, and to

Montoya’s door.

The Queen expected him to open the door and shove her inside, then take off

running. But instead, he smashed the pommel of her own sword into her head,

rendering her unconscious at his feet.

“Now to prepare the Colonel’s little Christmas Gift,” he muttered.

The Christmas Bandito hogtied the unconscious Queen of Swords. Then he

opened the bundle of clothes and scattered them about. He laid out her

weapons as well, and finally placed her coiled up whip on the small of her

back.

Then he waited.

It only took a few moments before the Queen started groaning and struggling

with her bindings. He enjoyed the sight, thought it was a sad sight to

behold as well, for he would miss the notorious Queen of Swords. He loved

the way she foiled Montoya’s illicit plans time and time again. And he

especially appreciated the times she returned ‘tax’ money Montoya extorted

from him.

“Never more,” he muttered sadly. “Good, you’re awake,”

“Uhhhmmmmmhhh,” she said, lovely eyes flashing angrily. Then her eyes

became pleading, begging him not to turn her over to her most hated, most

deadly enemy. “Mmmgghhhh.”

“Buenas noches, Senorita Alvarado,” he said, then stood up and pounded on

Montoya’s door. “Feliz Navidad, mi Colonel!”

With that, the Christmas Bandito was racing down the hall. In seconds he

was gone. But she had little thought for her captor, for she heard the

pounding of bare feet on hardwood floors approaching the door. In less than

a dozen racing heartbeats the door flung open and an angry, disheveled

Colonel Montoya came out.

It took him a few seconds to spot her on the floor at his feet, all trussed

up. Hogtied and helpless. She swallowed hard, terrified and numb. Her

blood pounded in her ears and she could barely breathe.

“What do we have here?” he asked, intrigued despite himself. He rubbed his

eyes, and ran fingers through unbound shoulder length hair. “Could it be?”

He ignored her for the moment, and turned to the scattered clothing. The

black silk shirt was missing a sleeve, but appeared to be the shirt the

infamous Queen wore. And the corset. He dreamed about that corset, and the

brazen wench bold enough to don it. The crimson sash was there, and a wide

silver sword belt, with sword and Main Gauche dagger as well. He found her

boots, still dusty from the streets of the pueblo she loved so much she

risked her life to defend it.

“Everything is here, including that hated mask,” he said, turning back to

his hated nemesis. “Feliz Navidad, indeed. What a wonderful present some

good Samaritan has given me.”

He took the bullwhip and hung it on the doorknob. Then he dropped to one

knee beside her and softly, lovingly caressed her bare rump and upper

thighs, so taut from being hogtied. He slapped the silky soft skin of her

shapely rump, enjoying how it quivered each time. Then he slid his hand

down between her thighs, to her pubic mount and gently caressed her wet

pussy lips.

“My Queen is quite excited about this encounter, I see,” he said. “So am

I.”

He ran his hands lovingly all over her legs and rump and back, then reached

her head. Running his fingers through her long, dark hair, he smiled

beatifically and sighed. Then he untied the knot holding the gag in place,

and helped her spit it out.

“Welcome, my Queen,” he said. “I’ve never been so pleased to see you.”

“I wish I could say the same, Colonel.”

His fingers traced the edges of her mask a long moment, then he reached

over and picked up her Main Gauche dagger. He enjoyed the way her eyes

widened and the sound of her intake of breath. It felt good to strike

terror into her heart.

“Anything to say for yourself, my Queen?”

“I’m having a bad day?”

“Ah, that legendary sense of humor,” Montoya said. “Suddenly, I find it

enchanting.”

“I don’t suppose you could just cut me loose and let me go?”

He laughed. Truly laughed in a way she never heard him do before.

“Ah, I’m afraid not, my lovely Queen of Swords,” he said. He slipped his

hand beneath the lacy mask, and pulled it down, revealing her face to him

for the first time. “Maria Teresa? I’m stunned.”

“Well, I’m full of surprises if nothing else, Colonel.”

“That you are, but none so delightful as this one.”

“I’m glad you are pleased.”

He leered down at her. She noticed for the first time his cock was fully

erect.

“I see you’ve noticed our most immediate problem. This could turn into a

nasty case of blue balls if not taken care of properly,” Montoya said.

“Visit a whore.”

“I would prefer to visit your hacienda, and arrest your servant, Marta,” he

said, enjoying the utter dread and despair that enveloped her. He never saw

such sad eyes! “I believe she knew of your dual identity, and thus is an

accomplice. I fear she will have to hang, too.”

“NO!” she cried. “Marta is innocent! I swear.” She swallowed hard, and

continued, “I am willing to do anything you deem necessary to prove her

innocence.” She looked intently into his eyes, leaving no doubt what she

meant and was will to do. “Anything, Colonel. With you or anyone you

designate.”

“Excellent,” he said, standing. “I’m glad to see you are willing to

cooperate.”

What choice did she have? She’d do anything to save her beloved servant.

Marta couldn’t become another of Montoya’s victims. At the very least, she

had to save Marta.

Montoya cut the rope tying her bound wrists to her ankles. Then he untied

her ankles and lifted her to her feet, wrists still tied.

The Queen of Swords was pushed up against the wall and Montoya’s hungry

lips pressed into hers. Holding down the bile, she returned his kisses.

While he kissed her deeply, his hands began to explore her naked, trembling

body. Hair, breasts, nipples, pussy, nothing was missed or ignored by his

brazen hands.

Soon, she was gasping and panting in his grasp, and a frightening warmth

was spreading through her shapely body. Then his lips started kissing their

way down her face, neck and stopped at her tits. Sucking in an erect

nipple, Montoya sucked on it hard a long moment before taking a little nip

out of it.

“Yeow!” she cried, the bite stinging her nipple.

“Just the beginning of the fun, my Queen,” he said, and pushed a finger

past her pussy lips. “So wet! I didn’t know you were so excited to see me.

Of course, I knew you were a harlot, and craven puta, by the tight pants

and corset your always wore. No decent, God fearing woman would wear such

provocative clothing. You were begging to be captured, thrown down and

ravaged, my Queen. Admit it.”

It was a demand. She heard it in his voice, and saw it in his dark eyes.

“It is true, mi Colonel,” she whispered, shamefaced. His finger found her

clitoris, and began to message it. She gasped and arched her back despite

trying to accept his abuse stoically. Her face flamed red. “I am a puta, a

harlot just begging to be ravaged by a man. By you, mi Colonel.”

“I thought so,” he said. He pulled the mask back up to conceal her face

again. “Kneel.”

The Queen of Swords knelt before her captor, Colonel Montoya. His erect

cock was all but poking her in the eye. She could smell its stench, and

almost taste it now that she knew what he wanted from her. The Queen was

not surprised.

“Are you a virgin?” he asked.

“No,” she admitted, once again shamefaced. “The Christmas Bandito

deflowered me before giving me to you.”

“Really? The Christmas Bandito?” he said, pleased. “I will have to thank

him if we ever meet.”

“I pray you meet soon.”

He moved closer, until the sticky tip of his cock rubbed against her face.

“You know what to do, my Queen,” he said. “Remember, Marta’s freedom is at

stake here.”

She nodded and licked her full lips. Taking a deep breath, she opened wide

and gobbled his cock down. The Queen took as much of the dick into her

mouth as she could handle. He stiffened, groaned, and relaxed as his

fingers sank into her silky hair. She began to suck, running her tongue up

and down and all around his cock. Montoya proved willing to give

instructions, just like the Christmas Bandito before him, and soon had her

doing everything to his precise tastes.

Soon, he couldn’t take it any more. She prepared to consume his cum, to

fill her belly with it if necessary. Anything he desired. But he pulled

out suddenly, shocking her, and pushed her to her back on the floor. Before

she knew it, Montoya was kneeling between her wide spread legs and guiding

himself into her aching pussy.

“Ooooooo, madre de dios, that feels soooo good,” she cried. “Ride me,

Colonel, ride me to ecstasy!”

He felt so good inside her. It felt so right, but she knew it was so

terribly sinful and wrong. Wrong for a woman to enjoy sex so much. Even

more wrong since they were not married. But, Oooo, it felt so good.

“You are so mui macho, mi Colonel,” she growled, back arched and shapely

legs extended straight out and up. Her toes curled and she tossed her head

back, hair flying. “Ay, Colonel! Ride me! Ride me hard!”

Montoya had his rhythm going. In and out. In and out. Using the full

length of his considerable cock. And she was so tight, so beautiful. And

so utterly helpless.

His cock stiffened some more and he redoubled his efforts.

“I’m going to make you scream, Maria Teresa,” he said, eyes fierce. “I’m

going to conquer my enemy, the Queen of Swords!”

“Mi conquistador! I am yours to ravage and claim!” she cried, gasping.

The warm tingle was gone, replaced by the charge to climax. “Ay! Mio dios!

Forgive me, but I love it so! Aaaaiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Oooo, Aiiiee!

Oh, Madre de Dios, why does it feel so right?”

Montoya, red faced with effort, reached down and pinched one of her

nipples. Then he twisted is savagely. Her legs began to kick like she was

riding a bucking horse, gasping and panting all the while. The Queen’s eyes

were wide in disbelief.

“Aaaaiiiieeeee!”

Then Montoya lost his struggle to keep it going as long as possible. His

hot cum burst out, deep inside her twat. Then he pulled out, spew cum

across her pubic mound and taut, quivering belly.

“That was better than I anticipated it would be, my Queen,” Montoya said,

breathless.

The Colonel slowly rose to his feet. He gathered up all the rope used to

hogtie her, then pulled the Queen to her feet by her long, dark hair. He

then pushed her to the door out onto the balcony overlooking the main

square. The church was across the plaza.

“Ah, look, my Queen, our activities must have been particularly loud,” he

said. People were gathering outside of the casa. Including soldiers. “My

friends, the Queen of Swords has finally been captured! Behold, the Gift of

God that delivers us from her criminal tyranny!”

With that pronouncement, he untied her wrists. Then he retied them to the

beam above, wide apart. Then her ankles were bound similarly, leaving her

spread-eagle, facing the people naked save for her mask.

While the people of the pueblo gawked in stunned silence, Montoya returned

inside to fetch something. When he returned, she shivered at the sound of a

whip uncoiling across fired tiles.

“Feliz Navidad!” he called, and sent the whip whistling through the air,

connecting with her exposed, vulnerable belly with a loud CRACK! “Say it,

my Queen!”

“Feliz Navidad!” she cried.

CRACK!

“Tell them who you really are!”

CRACK!

“I’m Maria Teresa Alvarado! The Queen of Swords!”

CRACK!

“Not any more,” Montoya said, delight dancing in his eyes. He reached up

and yanked the lacy mask down, leaving his hanging around her neck. “Now

you are MINE.”

# # #

The Christmas Bandito stood in the door of his cantina. A retired

mercenary, a baseborn commoner, he smiled as she watched Montoya abuse that

haughty Maria Teresa. As he whipped the cockiness out of the FORMER Queen

of Swords.

CRACK!

“Good riddance,” he said. He didn’t like stuck up noblewomen, but he would

miss the Queen of Swords. She caused so much havoc, and gave that bastard

Montoya fits. “Maybe some other daring Senorita will take up her cause and

mask?”

CRACK!

Unfortunately, the Christmas Bandito would have to lay low a year or two

because of her meddlesome ways. Montoya would be looking for him next year.

He wouldn’t push his luck like Maria Teresa did.

CRACK!

“Ah, Senorita, mi amor, you should’ve gone home after I defeated you the

first time,” he muttered, smiling darkly. “Feliz Navidad, my Queen.”

THE END