The Last Command – Consuelo’s Fate, Chapter 2

The Mexicans overrun the church and the sacristy where they find nearly all the women. Meg and Mary are gang-raped along with the rest!

Note: The first chapter is also mine. I simply forgot to add my author's name. Anyway my writing style is also my signature, for the better or the worst! 🙂

Chapter 2: ¡Viva la República!

Earlier…

“BOMM!”

“BOMM!”

The Mexican battering ram struck home as a big Latino fist against the inner door that was guarded by the last platoon of Yankees with a cannon loaded with canister.

“BOMM!”

The Blyth daughters were cowering in the chapel. Ann was in panic and pressed herself in the arms of her eldest sister, Meg or Britannia by her nickname.

Rose-Anne and Mary, the in-between twin sisters, held each other, crying, tears rolling down their gorgeous look-alikeness, in the dimly lit sacristy.

The Blyth daughters were deeply concerned with their father’s fate and also what the Mexicans would do if they won. Their dread stuck right under their skin.

Mary felt a weird sense of arousal; she realized she was wet, a bit like when she silently played with herself in the dead of the night when her twin sister, who always shared her bed, was sound asleep. She felt so ashamed! It felt as if her own body was deciding things on its own.

“They will take you, Mary! They are strong grown-up men, Mary! They’ll do all they want, Mary!” an inner voice kept telling Mary, thundering in her mind like an ominous storm. Maybe it was just her terror finding this shameful channel as a way to cope.

“BOOMM!!!”

Outside, there was a loud storm of clamours and a thick salvo of cracking muskets. The cannonade shot its one load of canister and it did kill several brave soldiers, but a running tide of cobalt-blue uniforms stormed into the inner fort as more and more Mexicans ran through that broken double door, yelling their war cry and sensing victory.

Loud and deadly fighting erupted with gunshots and war cries and clashes of nations.

“¡Viva la república!”

***
Kk’PoOW! k’k’k-PpPOWWW!!!**

But the loud fighting soon abated, leaving the cries of agony from the dying men. The last Yankees fought from inside the chapel, but Mexican balls cut half of them down. Another loud salvo was fired and the Mexicans charged en masse! “¡Viva la república!”

The women were all cowering in the sacristy, and they ushered the young children in the priest’s private quarters. That Catholic priest from Mexico now lay dead in the dirt, at the foot of that white wall, with a Mexican musket ball in his heart.

A couple of Yankees made a running retreat to the back of the chapel. They had no time to reload and were using their rifles as staffs, striking with the butt as a great many Mexicans stormed the chapel.

Those last Yankees were hopelessly outnumbered; they ran to the sacristy, where they were surrounded by the Mexicans and mercilessly bayoneted right in front of the screaming women!

Mary saw a fat Captain who skewered the last Yankee with his sabre, near the spot where Consuelo was grabbed by soldiers who jeered at her as they strapped their hot muskets on their shoulder.

With a cry of panic, Meg Blyth took the lead in seeking a hiding place.

“Quick! Ann, Mary… We must hide! They must not see us until the General arrives!”

The four Blyth daughters ran around the crowded sacristy, ran and ran in that sacristy that was soon overcrowded with Mexican blue uniforms and shakos as Yankee wives and maidens ran in panic like a stampeding herd and were promptly seized by grinning soldiers.

Rose-Anne shrieked as she got grabbed by two young soldiers, who greeted her in bad English… “Hello, Yankee girl!” “We, Hernandez brother!” and they began groping her along with other men who pressed themselves around her and urgently buried their hands under her dress and her petticoat. For the first time in her young life, the maiden felt men’s hands caressing her legs. She froze in panicked silence, tears running down her cheeks as other maidens and women filled the sacristy with deafening screams of terror and shame and grief.

A man was licking her face and calling her “bonita señorita” (pretty young lady). Rose-Anne was shocked at how quickly she was getting acquainted with her enemy, whose hands felt like disgusting tentacles running up her legs and pressing her bosom through her dress. Her body shut down, overcrowded with too many sensations at once.

Mary, her twin, had miraculously made it back to the church’s nave. She tried to hide under the altar, but two girls were already hidden there.

The Mexicans were hunting down the women all around the church, led by a comically fat officer, who grinned at the running señoritas as they desperately tried to hide in the cool shadows of the house of God.

Mary saw no sign of Meg nor any of her other sisters.

She did see soldiers rushing at and trying to grab Consuelo de Quesada, who nimbly evaded them, was caught by the arm, but bit the man’s hand before miraculously making her way through the open front door, into the sunlight and dust.

“Ann! No! Stay here! Ann…” Mary cried out as she suddenly spotted the fast-running figure of her youngest sister, but it was too late!

Ann Blyth ran like a deer and before the soldiers could do anything, she was outside too, but several soldiers ran after her.

Mary knew that her little sister was doomed. Out there in broad daylight, any girl was sure to get spotted and taken by the Mexicans; she knew it instinctively.

The Mexicans didn’t mean to spare the women’s honor. They were grabbing and assaulting any women they found, Yankee or Hispanic. The chase was urgent and extremely intense. Mary felt it and felt crushed under an unbearable sense of terror and tragedy as she found a hiding spot behind a statue of the Holy Virgin. She started to pray. The Holy Virgin would protect her, but she asked for a miracle in her frantic prayers; she asked for a miracle that would allow her little sister Ann to remain unscathed.

She saw Mrs. Dickinson and her golden hair, recognizing her sky-blue dress, just as a group of soldiers grabbed and dragged her outside the chapel. "Noooo! Noo, please don't! Ddoooon't!" Mrs. Dickinson screamed, the normally dignified woman in her thirties now a disheveled mess that looked around her like a trapped animal as the soldiers dragged her. Mary wasn’t stupid. She was still a virgin, but the sixteen-year-old lass knew exactly how the Mexicans intended to celebrate their victory. Her legs trembled as cries and pleas from panicking girls now filled the nave as the soldiers urgently assaulted them.

Sounds of tearing fabric told Mary an unthinkable story of forced undressing that intensified her own sense of dread. She actually felt surprised this wasn't happening to her as well. Perhaps the Holy Virgin was going to save her after all.

Heavy steps got dangerously close. Men’s footsteps. Mexican boots.

Mary screamed as she was found and grabbed by Mexican hands. They dragged her from her hiding place. She felt a hand groping her butt as other hands felt her corset through her simple dress.

“¡Ah, señorita! ¡Ven aquí, dulce rosa de Texas!” said a ruffian-looking soldier who then forced-kissed her, raping her by taking away her first kiss ever. Mary felt crushed! She had so badly wanted to have that first kiss with Jeb, the dashing young Lieutenant who was, alas, infatuated with Consuelo. Beyond the grossness of having such a lowly man steal that first kiss, the worst for Mary was to know she was going to be raped. She dreaded the pain, but most of all, she dreaded the shame.

An authoritative voice ordered the men not to let her go, but to hold her firmly and bend her over. Hands violated the dignity of her virgin legs as they executed the order and also raised her dress, then her petticoat. Mary screamed so loud that she felt all was silent around her. Silent like the heart of a hurricane when all hell breaks loose.

They tucked it all up, her dress and her petticoat, all the way against her waist, burning her exposed skin with humiliation as they whistled and catcalled, calling her a beautiful puta of Texas as they caught sight of her pristine buttocks.

Mary felt the leader's presence behind her. She shrieked as he put his hands on her hips and then shrieked even shriller and louder when he put something inside her. She realized it was his finger. Soon after he pulled out and she knew this was it.

"NOOO NOOO PLEASE NO! I'm virgin! I'm a maiden! Aaaaaaaaaah aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!"

The leader pushed himself against her untouched entrance and he viciously strained, forcing his entry and pushing one inhuman shriek out of Mary as she felt her sharpest pain ever down there. Worst than the pain was the shame.

He pushed hard! He sank deeper and deeper, hammering himself inside her taken virginity as she felt the others's hands on her. They held her bent over, touching her everywhere they could as they cheered on their Capitan.

Her rapist was now all the way inside her. He began to pound her, holding the crease of her hips and using her like Ajax probably used Cassandra against her altar when Troy fell. The rape was urgent, a primal song of loud grunts while the others kept calling her a little puta from Texas and a yellow rose only good for entertaining Mexican soldiers.

Why did they call her a yellow rose? Her hair was dark. Then she remembered. She was wearing her favorite dress, which was of some golden that hinted on light brown. One of the soldiers said he had first seen her when she stood on top of that white wall, and her dress did look very much yellow under the bright sun.

"Let's drag her outside! I wanna see her tits under the sun!" said a Corporal.

"Are you loco, Enrique? If we pull her outside, we'll have to share her with the entire regiment! Better to keep her here inside and have her between the four of us! She's first rate! How old are you, sweet little angel?"

Mary didn't answer. She didn't even heard the question. She was too busy shrieking in shame and pain as the Captain got done with her. He gripped her waist and put on a spectacular rush where he pounded her in absolute frenzy, until his eyes lighted up like firecrackers and he yelled his bliss as he exploded inside her.

The Corporal who wanted to drag her outside immediately took his officer's place and proceeded to inflict on Mary a barrage of strokes using his hard, throbbing dagger. If he cared about disrobing her and seeing her breasts under the bright sun of Texas, he clearly cared a lot more about taking her pussy, which he did like an absolute savage, bucking her like a stallion as his grunts and moans seemed to stick on her.

He raped the sobbing girl in a short, intense session at the end of which he shouted, "AAAAAHHHHHRRRRR WE WON!!!"

The Corporal and the Captain kindly held Mary for the two eager Privates, who took their turns by order of seniority. The first was a peasant from Durango, about thirty years old. During the short-lived rape, while he held the crease of Mary's hips, he prayed aloud, asking God to forgive him, for he was having a girl outside the holy bonds of matrimony and also cheating on his beloved wife and his two equally beloved mistressed waiting for him in Durango as the Captain laughed and made fun of his mock piety.

Once that Private had relieved himself, the youngest Private took his turn. This one was a half-blood Indian about Mary's age. The 20-year-old man was the most brutal, by far. Mary was in deep pain and constantly screaming while the Captain made fun of her, calling her a lovely little tramp.

With the Corporal, he firmly held her by the arms while her face kept looking down at their boots and her long dark hair waived along with her brutal rape. At one point, the Captain stuck out his half-flaccid cock and used it to whip her face as she cried, wailed and weeped, holding her wrist with one hand, and slapping her face with his cock as the half-blood Apache kept repeatedly striking home inside her until he finally let out one loud "WEEPA!" and gleefully spewed a big load inside the broken-in maiden, who had no tears left to cry.

Feeling horny again, and very surprised to be growing a new erection already, the Captain kept his cock close to Mary's pretty face while ordering his men to force her down on her knees. Once this was done, the dry-weeping girl had her nostrils filled with the gross smell from his dagger as the officer masturbated close to her face.

She tried to struggle, but the others kept her down on her knees, jeering and mocking her futile efforts. She tried to look away, but they forced her to look directly at that growing cock that stank and reeked of shame and debasement.

"How do you like it, little tramp? How do you like it? Are you the daughter of an officer? Yeah, I bet she is! Look at her fancy dress! Aaooaaahh God! This is so good!" the Captain uttered amid his grunting, masturbating hard and now poking her face with his gently olive cock, which was now a pulsating pillar of manhood. He carefully avoided to stick it inside her mouth, fearing her teeth and also not wanting to be forced to kill her as an example for the other girls if she did bite. He kept masturbating while the others held her down on her knees and forced her to look at it.

And then came the blissfull relief... "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHRRR UUGGHH!!!"

Mary took three or four shots of sticky heat, all plump on her face, where she was being kept down on her knees at the feet of the Holy Virgin. They raped her fully clothed. Maybe this was all the Virgin could do for her in the way of protection. God clearly wanted her to suffer.

*** *** ***

In the sacristy, Meg got separated from Rose-Anne and cried bitterly as she heard her shrieks and knew her sister was being harmed by those pigs.

Meg was suddenly face-to-face with a Mexican wearing a black shako over his sun-baked face. She screamed and called her dad.

“¡Aaahh! ¡Bonita señorita!” he said, smiling gently at Meg as two other soldiers walked right at her and grabbed her arms; they immediately lifted her dress and began to tear the lower parts of her white petticoat. Meg screamed, “No! Let me go! Nooo!”

“¡Bueno, señorita!” another man hollered, taller than the others. Meg noticed the one epaulette with strands on his right shoulder while he had the regular strand-less epaulette on the other side; those epaulettes were scarlet red. He was a Corporal in the Mexican army; her father had taught her this.

“Please, Corporal,” she said, trying to control her trembling fear, “please, we surrender to you, but please don’t harm us! I rely on your honor! Ehh, noo… Noooo!”

Meg tried to flee, but her arms were already firmly restrained.

The Corporal pulled out a knife and pressed it at her throat.

“Now, señorita! You, legs, open!” the brown-faced Mexican said in his thick accent.

Meg froze! That man had a scar on his cheek and looked like a bandito. Something in his eyes positively terrified her. She didn’t even try to resist as the men forced her to lay down on the sacristy’s wooden floor. Her eyes noticed that the room now had more light.

Another soldier, grinning cruelly, held a knife at her throat while that bandito-looking Corporal was unbuttoning his light-grey trousers, and his erection jutted out from under his cobalt-blue uniform while two other men swiftly tucked up her dress and her petticoat right to her waist, crudely exposing her virgin’s hairy cunt.

“¡Abre tus piernas! Your, legs, Yankee girl, open!” shouted the Corporal, louder than the deafening screams from the other girls being assaulted everywhere around.

Meg promptly obeyed, terrified by that cold blade on her neck.

“¡Ahh, muy bueno!” the terrifying Corporal said as he laid himself on top of Meg. She heard the loud pandemonium.

Many girls were shrieking and bawling as loud as if they were being eviscerated alive. They were clearly being raped. She saw no sign of her young sisters but she knew they were no doubt screaming in that hell.

Through her veil of bitter tears, Meg spotted Isabella, a delicate light-brown-haired girl. Grinning soldiers were holding her firmly off the floor as a kneeling officer wearing insignias of rank and golden thin-strand epaulettes was forcing himself inside her as she shrieked her life out, begging them to please not do this!

***

Then, Meg saw nothing else than the Corporal’s terrifying face above her as she was crushed under his weight and felt him brutally push into her entrance. She jerked in the men’s grip and shrieked, feeling their strong grip hurting her wrists and ankles. Her cunt felt like melted steel was being poured into it! The pain was unbearable!

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA NNAOOOOOOOOOOOOO-AAAA-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA…”

It got even worse! The cruel Corporal licked her face and kept calling her “bonita señorita” as he brutally forced her cunt open, little by little, getting deeper with every thrust.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH! NOOO! STOP THIS! STOP IT! STOP IT! Please, don’t! DON’T!” Meg squealed, shaking her head frantically as the dark-faced men holding her wrists laughed and jeered at her, saying many things among which she only understood the words “puta” and “Yankee señorita”.

“Aaahh-yaaahhhrrr! ¡Ay Dios!” the Corporal thundered in loud victory as he sank deep inside Meg Blyth and began to pound her Irish pussy.

He pounded her very hard, licking her face, raping her nostrils with his sickening body odour as he kept calling her “bonita señorita”.

“¡Viva la República!” shouted one of the men holding her wrists. She noticed how dark his skin was and shrieked in horror.
That man was so dark that he looked like a Native! He was going to have her too! This was impossible! She wailed, calling her dad and mom.

“¡Aah, Yankee señorita!” the Corporal groaned right at her face, panting heavily as Meg was shrieking in agony while experiencing a weird feeling, something close to arousal as the grown-up man kept pounding her deep and hard while licking her face and repeating “¡Yankee señorita!”

“¡Viva la República!” “¡Viva la República!” “¡Viva la República!” shouted many soldiers amid the thick storm of shrill-screaming girls. They had found and lighted extra oil lamps in order to have more light and enjoy a better view.

“¡Aah, Yankee señorita!” the Corporal shouted in her face as he then buried his face into the mass of Meg’s chestnut hair and erupted inside her with a big load of Mexican semen.

He remained there, panting, crushing her under him, as he kept kissing her and licking her face.

Meg tried to wrap her head around what just happened. Why was she feeling some degree of arousal by the end of this? Why? She hated that man! Hated what was being done to her!

“¡Gracias, Yankee señorita!” the bandito-looking Corporal bellowed as he got up.

One of the soldiers who had been restraining her ankles immediately took his place. This man was about thirty-five years old. The age difference alone was enough to scare her senseless.

The man spoke to her with affection as he laid himself down on top of her. Meg didn’t understand Spanish, but she felt the tone of his words and gathered he was very sorry for doing this to her.

He then kissed her very tenderly and stroked her hair. “Muy bonita, muy bonita,” the man said, kissing her neck as he suddenly punched himself inside her entrance, and this time, it didn’t hurt as much. She was soaking wet with the spent cum and the juices that her young body had urgently produced during that brutal invasion from the Corporal.

Meg could tell he was as gentle as possible. He looked at her from up close, right into her eyes, and she was both horrified and fascinated by that sudden intimacy with that complete stranger, much like a bird fascinated by the eyes of a snake. She saw in his eyes that he felt sorry and very guilty.

“Muy bonita,” he kept saying as he kissed her and thrust deeper inside her, gently, causing her to yelp out of pain and scream her shame as she found his cock horrifically warm inside her body.

The man went silent, just grunting in a quiet rhythm. He kept kissing her neck as he began pounding her, gently, yet a bit more vigorously now, and Meg was now unable not to moan. That man was trying to be kind as he raped her. Unknowingly, he was rubbing her womanhood in a way that forced more juices inside her.

But he got more and more vigorous as he kept blissfully grunting and exploring her broken-in virginity. At one point, he raised himself and Meg saw a degree of disappointment in his eyes as he put his hands on her bosom.

In that confusion of sensations, Meg gathered that he was disappointed that he couldn’t see her breasts. He nonetheless cupped her tits through her dress and corset, and she felt a sense of horrific weirdness at the notion of her being made topless amid the Mexicans.

The man was no longer pounding her. He was just remaining inside her, where she felt the heat and mass of his swollen erection. She was moving, and with a shock, she realized she was moving her own pelvis in some sort of mechanical reaction.

The Corporal barked at the man, who began pounding her again, this time fast and furious, with his hands always pressed on Meg’s bosom.

Meg moaned out loud and clear, feeling his hands through her dress and corset. Her tits were swollen inside her garments and she moaned, moaned and moaned, louder and louder as she blushed and sweated.

In her mind, Meg pictured herself topless amid the Mexicans, under the sun in broad daylight, and gang-fucked right beside a silent cannon. Meg suddenly jerked, propping up her clothed bust in her involuntary burst of bodily delight, just as the gentle soldier growled and exhaled loudly…
“¡Aah! ¡Aah! ¡Aaaah! – ¡Yankee señorita! ¡ Yankee señorita! Muy bonita…” he uttered amid his exploding ecstasy.

He forcefully shot a thick and creamy supply of semen that joined the Corporal’s left-over spunk inside Meg.

Then, the other man who had been holding her ankles urgently replaced him. His trousers were all the way down.

His face terrifying with mad joy, he made himself home on top of Meg and gleefully sank inside her, straining a bit and sliding home.

“Aaa-aaahh noo!” Meg yelped in deep pain.

He began to pound her with all his weight behind his strokes, holding nothing back while Meg was in deep pain and in an altered state of arousal as well.

Feeling her legs free, she didn’t try to kick. She bent her legs and wrapped them around the man, as she knew instinctively this would place her at a slightly better angle to receive the man’s furious assaults. She did this to make the rape less painful and it worked to some degree. Her mind imposed the daylight fantasy where she was being gang-fucked next to a cannon, naked amid the victorious enemy.

The pain subsided a bit and she let the man have his way, whimpering under his barrage of strokes as she crossed her ankles on top of his buttocks and clenched her feet inside her ankle-high leather shoes. She felt the sense of weirdness right down to her feet. A corner of her mind told her she better get used to this as she was no doubt going to be kept as a whore by those soldiers.

She instinctively felt that those men now wanted to take her shoes off and start kissing her feet. Meg knew that the notion of seeing her barefoot with her naked ankles for all to see was extremely erotic to those men. She then started to cry, struck with guilt, fathomless guilt. How could she be having such depraved thoughts while his father was probably dead and while her sisters were…?

“Aaaahh, nooo! Noo! Noo! Nooo!” Meg wailed as she broke down in tears, under the barrage of brutal strokes from the Mexican.

The man grunted his delight in Meg’s face, licking the tears on her cheek as his nostrils were flooded with the scent from her chestnut hair.

He let out a long-winded series of grunts as he filled her up with his cock deep inside her, right to the hilt as it seemed to keep shooting bolts of hot seed almost forever. It was so intense!

Meg wailed in despair and shame, clenching her little fists in rage where grinning Mexicans held her wrists as she received that man’s load.

As soon as her spent rapist rose back to his feet, one of the Privates above her went from holding her wrist to lying down on top of her faster than it would take to say it.

With just one man holding her wrists together now, the Private easily wedged himself between Meg’s legs and knelt right over her wide-open lap. He then pulled out his knife and stooped down and grabbed the front of her dress, which he cut and violently tore as Meg screamed in terror upon seeing that blade so close to her…

TshrrrrrrrIIIIIPP!

The sound of tearing fabric hit Meg’s ears and a huge tide of horror and weirdness took hold of her as she understood. They were disrobing her!

The devil-faced Mexican frantically tore her thick salmon-coloured dress all the way down to her waist. Satisfied, he put back his sharp knife in its sheath at his white belt, and then he pulled the sleeves of her dress down her shoulders.

The other man above her head released her wrists and the Corporal also helped them in sliding her sleeves down and off her arms along with the gentle soldier, whose eyes were mad with the anticipated joy of finally seeing her breasts!

The salmon-coloured fabric of her patterned dress gave way to the blinding paleness of her shoulders and arms along with the beige of her corset. Her skin had a warm glow of pale gold under the bright lights from the lamps.

Meg cursed and threatened the men. Her father was going to have them shot! They laughed as they attacked her corset, which was white and fan-laced from the front.

The Corporal’s knife flashed in front of her eyes and she screamed in terror, and then he cut all the laces while uttering a loud grunt of lust-filled anticipation, knowing that her tits were worth the trouble.

They then urgently opened her corset, and the man kneeling between her legs grabbed her chemise and with a grin of devilish satisfaction, he roared in absolute victory, “AAAaaarrrhhh!” as he strained and ripped her undergarment wide open in a loud “shrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr” of tearing fabric…

“Naaooooooo! Noo! No!” Meg yelped, flooded with forced arousal from head to toe as she felt their gazes burning her suddenly displayed tits.

“hermosas tetas!” the Corporal exclaimed as he cupped them from where he knelt at her side.

Then, Meg felt something at her cunt. It wasn’t a cock. It was something else, warm and gentle, a bit wet too. It added a new layer of madness to her shame-filled terror.

The Corporal now stooped down and began to lick and kiss her tits. She felt his tongue on her nipple and yelped in a burst of unwilling delight, while picturing herself outdoors and having this done to her next to a cannon, with an entire platoon of Mexicans watching and cheering.

But then he pinched her nipples very cruelly and she yelped, this time in pain, while that special thing was being done to her cunt, where something hot and nimble entered her pussy. And Megan realized that a man was now eating her pussy!

The gentle soldier yelled at the Corporal, who got angry, quickly got up and struck him!

The man kneeling between her legs and eating her pussy noticed that the field was clear. He arose, went higher on her, enjoying the bright view of her pristine navel area as he moved forward to her chest, where he sank his head between her tits while the other man, kneeling and stooping over and past her face, shared the booty and began kneading her tits while the other man from the south of Rio Grande pressed his face against her nipple and felt its delicate imprint on his forehead.

Meg had now her face buried against the upper soldier’s chest, where she smelled the rancid odour of two weeks’ worth of sweating along with the peculiar zest of gunpowder. That man who had perhaps killed her father was now kneading her left tit while the soldier kneeling between her legs now gently pinched her other nipple between his lips.

She suddenly realized her hands were free. Was she going to reach and grab a knife at a man’s belt?

Meg was confused between trying to attack those men who had stole her innocence away and doing nothing, but she remembered the Corporal’s cruel face and the cold steel of his knife. She let her hands rest on the wooden floor and did nothing.

The man kept playing with her tits while the other man kept sucking her nipples and she let them have their way, whimpering from the tongue-stroking carnival going on inside her pussy.

The sacristy was filled with whimpers mixed with the men’s grunts of victory. The Yankee wives and maidens were all getting loads of Mexican semen inside them and nothing could prevent it. How could God allow such a horror to happen?

The Corporal came back to Meg’s side and barked an order. The man kneeling by her head grabbed her arms and held them together above her pretty head while the other one laid himself down on top of her.

Meg yelped in a burst of sudden pain as he punched inside her. And the now-familiar cycle of pain to forced pleasure repeated itself.

That man raped her while supporting his weight on his elbows, where he could enjoy the sight of her jiggling tits as he took his pleasure.

The rape was done in grim silence with the squeals and groans from elsewhere as a background as the Private kept pounding Meg almost angrily, until she soon saw his eyebrows raise as his expression went quickly from grim aggression to pure joy as he shouted, “¡Viva la República!” and flooded Meg with his Rio Grande pudding.

“¡Aaah, Muy bueno! Muy bueno!” the Corporal shouted with a cold expression of cruelty that belied the joy in his words.

He cupped her breasts again while the last man, the one who had been holding her wrists together during that last rape, moved to where he took hold of her legs, and Meg realized he was unfastening her shoes, all this while the Corporal pressed her breasts down and Meg hated this, even though this amplified her mechanical juice flooding inside her.

“Aaaaahh! Nooo!” Meg groaned as she felt the first shoe being pulled off her right foot, then he pulled the sock off her lower leg, down her ankle, then off her now-bare foot.

The man did the same to her other foot and gleefully kissed it once the shoe and sock were gone.

Meg felt her bodily urges drown in an ocean of horror as the disgusting Corporal played with her tits. He was now sucking them. All this as she felt the intense heat on her feet… heat and fervour from a man’s kisses on her dainty feet. Being barefoot in the sacristy was so preposterous! It was like being a nun gang-raped in a convent.

More men were gathering around her, a great many of them, all wearing their full uniforms and their high shakos, and Meg realized that she was almost naked amid them. The only garments she had left were the confused remnants of her dress and petticoat, now all tucked up against her waist and lap.

They deafened her with their whistles and catcalls, and she felt their burning gazes on her legs, her feet, her tits, even her hair. Some Mexican fingers were running through her hair in that loud and confused orgy where she was literally drowned in Mexican lust and spunk.

Amid their chaotic movements, Meg suddenly caught sight of her sister Rose-Anne and the distressed waves of her dark hair, which was alive with hellish lights from the sacristy’s oil-lamplight.

Rose-Anne was nude—except for her shoes and her knee-high socks of dark-green wool that intensified the paleness of her complexion—and she was held bent over by jeering soldiers restraining her arms in front of her as a solidly built Sergeant was holding her waist and raping her while still wearing his black shako!

In the brief flash of blinding light, Meg saw her from profile, as the man with red epaulettes held Rose-Anne’s naked waist and took his pleasure with an expression of extreme contraction that looked as if he were trying to lift a 1,000-pound stone off the ground.

The Sergeant suddenly seized up and trembled! He looked like some demented automaton as he frantically pounded Rose-Anne, her dark hair swaying like a black sail under stormy winds as he got so carried away that his shako fell off his head, and his Mexican head of coal-black hair was suddenly hatless as he clenched her waist, holding Rose-Anne there as if for dear life while she sobbed and squealed, shaken as he kept bucking her without restraint.

And with that same expression of extreme strain, now mixed with pure bliss, the hatless Sergeant pressed himself hard against Rose-Anne’s white buttocks as he relieved himself and shouted, “¡Aaahh! ¡señorita! ¡Aaahh NNNNNNNNNNNNNNHHRRR!”

Meg was so horrified! Rose-Anne’s pale complexion against her dark hair reminded her of her own nickname—Britannia, which her father had given her thanks to her own pure-white complexion.

The scene indeed made her think of Britannia, an allegory personifying Great Britain being raped by a Mr. Mexico wearing that same cobalt-blue uniform. Mr. Mexico was raping her as a reminder that Great Britain had no business in America.

Meg then thought of Consuelo. A soldier, somewhere amid that jam-packed orgy, shouted, “¡Viva la República!”

Meg knew that Consuelo de Quesada, a noble señorita, was getting gang-raped by other soldiers somewhere in the fallen fort. In her mind, Consuelo personified Spain getting gang-raped by a great many Mexican soldiers who filled her up with their revolutionary anger and spunk while shooting their muskets in the air and shouting, “¡Viva la República!”

Meg’s view was obscured again by soldiers just as another man, this one a Private, with no strands on his scarlet epaulettes, stood behind Rose-Anne and resumed her ordeal.

Meg heard her sister’s sobbing even amid the loud brouhaha where female whimpers clashed with the men’s loud cries of victory.

“¡Viva la República!”
“¡Viva la República!”

“¡Aaahh-hhrrnnggh! ¡Yankee señorita!”

“¡Viva la República!”

***

The entire sacristy was taken by a hurricane of debauchery!

Red cavalry uniforms and chest-protecting cuirasses of shiny steel now mingled with the infantry’s blue uniforms. The men were loudly celebrating and getting drunk from too much aguardiente.

For some, simply watching the Yankee lasses getting defiled was satisfying enough; many were concerned with the risk for venereal disease. Syphilis could kill. Most of these men had a wife and children.

Yet, the men were all overexcited from the deadly battle they just fought. They felt the need for a relief. Most were angry against the Yankees as they had lost too many friends in the final assault that took a heavy butcher’s bill in their ranks.

Those Yankees had to pay. And their women and daughters were right there and defenseless.

Meg was now being raped by the Private who had been kissing and licking her feet. Before lying down on her to rape her, he had gleefully grabbed all the remnants of her dress and her torn petticoat and slid it all along her slender legs, immensely enjoying the act of disrobing her completely as the disordered shuffle of her torn garments passed her lovely feet.

The young señorita was suddenly Eve-nude under him!

Many new soldiers came near and unbuttoned their trousers. She was gorgeous in the nude! For a lot of them, this was the first time they were seeing a Yankee señorita in the nude. More than one began to masturbate.

The cruel Corporal was kneeling right above Meg and holding her wrists together over her distorted face as the Private who had finished stripping her was now kneeling between her legs. He lifted her hips off the floor and brutally penetrated her while holding her waist right there above the floor. She was so sore in her waist!

Meg was thus raped with her hips raised above her high-riding tits. They were jiggling along with the urgent rape while she felt all the men’s gazes that followed the demented dance of her rosy nipples.

Meg moaned out loud, unable to stop her extreme arousal as the kneeling Private pounded her, holding nothing back.

She looked into his eyes and found the same straining expression she had seen on that man in the act of raping Rose-Anne.

She felt the intense brushing from his uniform against her inner legs and also felt the leather of his belt as he took his pleasure, straining hard as he kept her butt off the floor.

His strength was immense at that moment. Meg felt it and she suddenly jerked and climaxed again as someone was pouring some liquid on her tits. She smelled the liquor—aguardiente!

“¡Viva la República!”

Amid that shaking confusion, Meg was suddenly aware that the Corporal was forcing her hands around something that felt hot and throbbing. It felt like flesh. It had soft skin; very soft skin.

And then, Meg screamed in disgust and tried to remove her hands from there, but the Corporal above her was too strong. He was forcing her to caress his erection!

Meg was punished hard and good with her body nearly upside down as she arched her back again while wrapping her legs around her rapist and offering an unreal display of a maiden’s beauty, with her feet together behind the infantryman’s blue jacket as she became a slave to her own arousal! She was a Yankee whore for the Rio Grande rank-and-file. Horrible! Disgusting! She was disgusting!

The Corporal yelped, almost in pain, and Meg received something hot and creamy and sticky right on her face! She shuddered!

It was his load of spunk!

Then, the kneeling Private got tired of holding her hips off the floor and, as he lowered her, he passed his edge as he accidentally exited her cunt. He urgently grabbed his exploding erection and fired long bolts of creamy spunk that formed undisciplined lines of glossy semen all over Meg’s spotless abdomen, gracing her navel area as the Private growled his long-winded relief.

One of his bolts of glossy seed landed as far as Meg’s tits!

A group of men knelt down all around Meg, who became aware and horrified of their erections as all those men were urgently masturbating right above her, kneeling as if in prayer, their light-grey trousers wide open, some of them wearing a cavalry cuirass over their torso and Meg was struck by their red uniforms that contrasted against that cobalt blue she was never to forget.

The men let out a loud collective series of grunts and groans as they began to dump their loads all over Meg’s face, hair and titties! They were covering her Irish beauty, ruining her pristine whiteness under their heated sauce!

Meg felt that clammy heat all over her, absolutely disgusted!

Someone was now vigorously massaging her tits while a big pack of that hot sludge fell on her feet, and she realized that a soldier was ejaculating on her bare feet.

She felt engulfed and lost in a sea of pure manliness, lost amid the enemy’s most secret fantasies as the cruel Corporal—yes it was him—kept pressing and massaging her breasts, forcing the sensitive flesh to yield under his will as he spread all that semen evenly on her Yankee-white tits.

“¡Muy bonita! “¡Muy bonita Yankee señorita!” he said as he gave her skin a polish of spunk mixed with aguardiente.
“This… Very bueno for the Yankee señorita!” he added, unable to take his hands off Meg’s titties.

She felt indeed like Britannia, the allegory of England getting Mexican semen spread all over her Imperial-white tits as an insult added to injury.

Somewhere out there, Consuelo represented Spain being toppled upside down by her Mexican rapists. Meg began to sob. She felt a strong sense of solidarity with Consuelo, finding in her the big sister she herself needed now that all her little sisters were being shattered by Mexico’s Republican troops. This felt a bit weird since Meg was about Consuelo's age, but Consuelo was a noble señorita while she was just a Yankee girl.

Then, someone grabbed her forcefully by her hair and forced her up on her knees. Meg had just enough time to see he was a cavalry officer wearing golden epaulettes on his red uniform, before he rushed something fleshy and hard against her face.

“Open your mouth, Yankee woman!” he barked in flawless English, sounding like a well-read man.

She saw the cruel Corporal who stood by among the onlookers, almost standing at attention, and she understood this must be a high-ranking officer, at least a Major.

“Don’t you think of biting, Yankee woman! If you do, I swear to Dios I will take that pistol you see here at my belt and I will use its butt to knock off all your teeth one by one!”

As he made his threat, the terrified girl obeyed and the Mexican officer began to rape Meg’s face.

He pinched her jaw quite painfully, holding her head in a way that greatly limited her ability to bite as he thrust himself home, filling her mouth with his cock and causing her to cough and struggle for air.

Meg felt his soft skin as it brushed her palate and caressed her tongue as the man began to groan. She didn’t try to resist. She was far too afraid, and something of the curious girl inside her made her go along with that gross act of depravity.

She was kneeling at the Major’s feet, her head forced back and forth, causing her tongue to slide to and fro, coating his cock with her Irish spit.

She was suddenly aware of other men very close to her, also kneeling in some weird form of worship. An army of hands were caressing her everywhere at once, from her hair and her backside right down to her legs and feet, but mostly around her buttocks as the officer kept his painful hold on her jaw and violated her mouth, calling her a “Yankee puta”.

Meg felt assaulted by waves of shame from all those hands exploring her Eve-nude beauty while her pinched jaw was killing her. She was too busy struggling for her breathing to think of much else. That cock inside her mouth became her entire universe.

She was so frightened and aroused that she didn’t taste much of its rancidness.

The man, now grunting intensely, released her jaw and grabbed her hair. She felt the pull from his grip and did her best to follow the pace as he repeatedly slammed her face against his crotch while grunting like a rutting bison.

Meg still felt the pain in her jaw, but she went back to her outdoors fantasy as she tried to think of anything else, and her thoughts kept returning to Consuelo, whom she pictured being gang-raped with her back pinned right on a cannon, amid a platoon of Mexicans who held her spread-eagled and furiously took their turns between her legs and raped her while admiring the jiggling display of her white tits under the Texas sun!

Meg moaned against that cock inside her mouth, causing her tongue to vigorously massage it, and the Major grunted and kept using her hair as handles to violate her face, grunting louder and louder. She could tell he was close to his boiling point.

The notion of Consuelo being Eve-nude amid Mexican soldiers greatly aroused Meg, who suddenly became conscious of something she had always known, but never was able to confess to herself—she felt strongly attracted to Consuelo.

That Major kept grunting loudly as he took his pleasure while pulling her hair and slamming her face against his wide-open trousers, forcing her to pleasure him.

And as he did so, Meg realized that she would love to kiss Consuelo and to know what her nipples would taste like. She would even love to see Consuelo taking Mexican cocks in her lovely singer’s mouth and get her pretty face splattered with their Republican cream of immoral gloss.

That’s when the cavalry Major growled and burst out with a big load that Meg was forced to bitterly swallow in order to keep breathing. She almost passed out, yet she felt a wild thrill as she pictured Consuelo doing this—swallowing the sperm of a gross-looking Mexican as she knelt in the glorious display of her aristocratic beauty, Eve-nude amid all those blue uniforms. Those fantasies kept her from becoming insane.

The Major shouted, “Aaaahh- aaaaahhrrrnnnn señ, or, i—ta!” as he relieved himself deep inside her mouth.

As soon as he was out of her, he let go of her disheveled hair and stood back and put his softening erection back inside his trousers, which he quickly buttoned back as he put himself back together and a Cavalry Sergeant offered him a bottle of aguardiente.

The Major smiled and nodded at Meg, wearing the same polite expression as if they were in a fancy ball and they just waltzed together.

Meg was then grabbed by the soldiers who had been surrounding her and covering her with their kisses and caressing hands.

They moved her where that gentle soldier—the one who had been sorry to rape her—was spreading out her own discarded garments like a blanket, and there, they nudged Meg into kneeling on all fours, on her discarded garments, and she readily obeyed, terrified and sensing that resisting would be pointless.

Meg was picturing Consuelo amid Mexicans in that same position, like Spain being whored by her revolted colony. Her body was out of control as she anticipated this—one by one, all those men surrounding her were going to fuck her like breeding stallions. She also shuddered and tremble at the thought of the Mexican baby that might come as a result.

As the first of her “suitors” put his hands on her butt, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop herself from moaning.
She blushed with shame, her body covered with sweat, in the desecrated sacristy. Their gazes were all over her, she felt them. She felt those manly hands on her white buttocks. Again, she was Britannia getting colonially raped. She hated them! Hated them for arousing her.

The hated cock came. Meg was the centre of so much male attention! A dozen men were waiting their turn and masturbating! The sacristy was overcrowded!

Then, her collective rape resumed. This time, the man was behind her and mounted her like a Mexican stallion!
Meg felt his hands around her waist, and the urgent bumping of her buttocks against him. She was unable not to moan.

She suddenly caught briefly sight of her sister Rose-Anne. They were still raping her from behind right where she stood, except that a gorgeously handsome boy, a musician, was presently kneeling at her feet and in the act of undoing her shoes and pulling her socks off.

Then, aguardiente-drinking Mexicans obscured her field of vision and at any rate, she was now far too busy being urgently shaken by that “suitor” who painfully held her sore waist.

She looked down at the floor and let her head bob freely, in complete surrender as she felt that man who furiously ploughed her like a reproduction stallion, and she panicked. What if she became pregnant?

Her thoughts where a chaos of confusion. She kept looking down at that floor, forced to moan by her overheated body as the man twitched inside her and urgently clutched her waist while shouting, “¡Viva, la, aaahhhh, República! Aaa—AAAAARRRHH!!!”

He was done. She knew it. Meg was becoming very adept at knowing when a man inside her was reaching his inglorious conclusion.

Predictably, she was grabbed by the waist as another soldier knelt behind her, and she soon had him inside her.
This would go on unabated. Nothing could prevent it. She was being raped by an entire platoon, just like Consuelo in her mind.

She was indeed Britannia being defiled and whored by those young and strong Republican soldiers. For Mexico. Hostile. Hated. Hot inside her.

She felt surprising anger against her father and the entire Yankee garrison. They had lost and it was their fault! And she was now suffering and had lost her honor. Because they had lost.

As yet another man filled her up nice and proper, Meg once more broke down in tears. The next man entered her as she was bitterly sobbing. He didn’t care.

Where was Mary? Did Ann manage to avoid the worst fate for a maiden? As she endured the relentless rapes, Meg prayed to God, asking Him to watch over Ann. If her youngest sister was spared this infamy, then there would be some light of hope.

For herself and Rose-Anne, it was already too late. Meg suddenly felt very old.

“¡Viva la República!” the unknown lover shouted as he gave the Yankee señorita a hot supply of fresh seed, compounding her risk for a bastard pregnancy.

Meg kept sobbing, even more as the soldier got up and she noticed he was one of those Mexicans with dark brown skin that oozed with Native legacy. She felt horrified at the idea of delivering such a dark baby!

Someone poured aguardiente on her buttocks before a new rapist resumed the fiesta. It was their fiesta. The Yankee señorita was the main attraction in it.

TO BE CONT'D