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