Captain Javier’s orders had come directly from the royal governor, capture the vixen, La Zorra. To be assigned the task of tracking down a mere woman was an insult to his honor. Javier believed he was one of the finest swordsmen and trackers in the Spanish Army. Colonial duty had been one humiliation after another. The primitive living conditions in Alta California were beyond what any of noble blood should bear. He longed for the pleasures of the royal court and an end to this constant deprivation and humiliation. His only consolation was the royal governor’s promise that once he completed this onerous mission he could return to Spain. How difficult could it be to capture one rebellious woman?
The reports told of a tall, dark haired woman who dressed in a black blouse, black pants and shiny knee high black boots. She wore a black mask over her eyes and had a cruel beauty. They claimed she was like a demon with a sword. Captain Javier thought these were obviously the ravings of men who had consumed too much wine. He had no time for fairy tales. He would capture this woman and return home to the comfort of his villa in Castile. No woman could match his skill or ingenuity, of that he had no doubt.
He traveled alone. With signed orders from the royal governor he intended to use the local garrison and secure the co-operation he needed to bring her out into the open. He planned to face her alone, destroy her myth, strip her of her mask and shiny, black boots and march her barefoot through the town before bringing her before the governor. This fairy tale madness would end and he would live happily ever after.
Knowing that the peasants and other riff-raff claimed that their La Zorra was the “protector of the poor and oppressed”, he had the local commandant arrest the poorest shopkeeper in town. Although the commandant protested that his victim had a reputation for honesty and loyalty, Javier did not care. He ordered the commandant to provide the man and assured him that he would provide the crime. True to his word, Captain Javier brought the man up on charges of “Treason To The Crown and sentenced him to die by hanging in three days. The horrified shopkeeper’s pleas of innocence fell on deaf ears. His cries that his wife and five children would not survive his death made no impression on the captain. He cared little for such quivering bags of offal. In his eyes it was a crime against nature that such were even allowed to breed. However, if the man died on the gallows he was going to be disappointed. He hoped that La Zorra would attempt to save him. He intended to watch her. When she saved the shopkeeper he planned to witness her escape route. From there it was just a matter of using his abilities to track her back to her lair. Javier grinned with self-satisfaction thinking about his clever plan. He would use her foolish “virtue” to defeat her. Javier knew that every enemy had a weakness. This “vixen” could not resist a victim. She was doomed by her own bravado.
Captain Javier took up his observation position in the bell tower of the church an hour before the scheduled hanging. It would soon be over. His anticipated victory over this woman excited him. He imagined stripping the boots off the defeated “vixen” and holding the warm, shiny leather in his hands as she lay at his feet, begging for mercy. Perhaps, he thought, he would let her wear the knee-high boots when he fucked her. Either way, he intended to take the boots of La Zorra home to Spain as a trophy. deep in fantasies of sex and victory, he didn’t realize he was not alone until the cold steel touched his throat.
. “Looking for someone or do you just like to watch innocent people die?” she asked.
He was frozen in terror as she removed his sword from its sheath. He heard the rustle of cloth behind him but dared not turn around. The sharp edge of her sword was tight against his neck. She backed him away from the window and then ordered him to his knees. Javier was quickly complied. He sighed in relief as the sharp blade was taken from his throat. The sigh was replaced by a gasp when La Zorra stood in front of him. She stood before him with a sword in each hand, a black mask with small eyeholes covered the upper portion of her face, and her black hair was tied back. She was wearing the knee high, polished black leather boots he had fantasized about. That was all she was wearing.
“You have bragged often about how easy it would be to defeat a woman, Captain Javier. Do you now have any doubt that I am a woman?”
He saw his reflection in the spit polished boots. Looking up he saw her well-muscled thighs that led to a dense black bush. She had a tight stomach and pendulous breasts with large nipples. Though she was shorter than he had imagined from reading the report, she was definitely all woman. But she had somehow tricked him, he still knew she could never defeat him in combat. Despite the two swords pointed in his direction, Javier declared that she could never defeat him in a fair fight.
Her laugh unnerved him. She said she had already defeated him in the battle of wits but would be willing to face him in a battle of swords. Captain Javier hopes began to rise until he felt the point of a sword on his chest.
“Of course, since you want a fair fight,” she grinned, “you must also remove your clothing. If you wish, you may keep your boots on.”
Between his rash words and sword on his chest, the captain felt he had little choice. He had never fought naked before. The thought of facing this black booted naked vixen excited him. The prospect of her defeat and his freedom excited him more. His erection was betraying him. It stood out before him. La Zorra jokingly asked whether she should also be allowed to carry a small dagger between her legs as she threw him his sword.
He moved in quickly to test her defenses and was shocked by the strength of her parry. She turned his blade effortlessly and went on the offensive, her black boots striding forward as he stepped back in retreat, desperately fending off her flashing blade. Her breasts were bouncing with motion as her leather clad legs danced around him, confusing and exciting him. He was unable to find an opening, she was fast and flexible. Captain Javier realized that his ability was no match for hers but also knew that the hanging was now mere minutes away. If he could distract her a little bit longer, she would fail in her rescue. Even should she kill him afterwards, he would have destroyed a portion of her myth. What worried him is that she didn’t even seem concerned. He became even more worried a moment later when she knocked his sword from his grip and put the point of her blade on his groin.
She commanded him to kneel again. He carefully moved to the floor. Her blade moved to his neck as she told him to lick her boots. His tongue moved over the shiny surface of her right boot, sliding up and down the surface at her direction and then to her left, where she had him perform the same worship. His erection had returned. The smell of the leather mixed with the rich musk of her sweaty pussy was going to his head. His sexual excitement mingled with the certainty that at any moment he would hear the floor of the gallows drop.
Suddenly La Zorra made him cease his delicious worship and ordered him to the window. Javier was now sure she was going to kill him the moment the shopkeeper died. He saw that the crowd had grown large. They were soon to realize that their “protector” had failed. He heard the gunshot before he heard the hoof beats. Everything happened incredibly fast. A female rider, dressed in black, wearing a mask and shiny black boots, thundered into the plaza. Somehow the gunshot had severed the rope. She fought off several soldiers with her sword as she scooped up the shopkeeper and rode off. The crowd closed around her path of retreat costing the remaining soldiers valuable chase time. Captain Javier’s jaw was hanging open.
“See, Captain Javier,” he heard her say, “you have been defeated again. You foolishly believed that only one woman could wear the boots of La Zorra. Tyrants and their tools never learn!”
Javier felt the blade slide between his ribs and knew that his defeat was final. His last sight in this world was the black, polished leather boots of La Zorra.