Poncho Villa
by A Bad Attitude
Copyright© 2026 by A Bad Attitude
Fiction Sex Story: Our 'dime novelist' discovers a story about Poncho Villa kid-napping a pretty, young wife during his raid on Columbus, New Mexico. I never check all the codes.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fiction Historical Western .
Another story about a ‘dime novelist’s search for stories in the early 1900’s. Remember, these writers often exaggerated their stories and took liberties with the truth. In other words, they made shit up to sell books!
Chapter 1
As I walked down to breakfast at my hotel in Del Rio, I saw people in the street carrying their rifles and shopkeepers boarding up their windows. When a cavalry troop rode up I asked a Sgt. what was going on.
“Poncho Villa attacked the city of Columbus New Mexico this morning. All border towns are on the alert!”
I hurried to the front desk.
“How can I get to Columbus New Mexico?”
“There is a train leaving for Santa Fe around noon. From there you should be able to take another to Columbus.” I went to the restaurant and ate a quick breakfast, then to the train station and bought a ticket on the noon train to Santa Fe. I was told that there was a connection to Columbus, but the agent would not confirm it would be running. At the telegraph office I notified my office I was on my way to Columbus. I told my editor I had the outline for another Western novel and the promise of one more; but I wanted to go to Columbus and see what happened there. I explained that I thought this could be big! The United States invaded by another country! I am sure there are many stories!
I checked out of the hotel and was on the noon train. It was the next day, after a 20-hour train ride, that I arrived in Santa Fe. I checked into a hotel and slept until the next morning, then boarded a train to Columbus. Villa and his 500 soldiers had been chased back into Mexico by the time I arrived on the 13th of March. I checked into the only hotel and stored my luggage before walking down to the restaurant. There were very few patrons, the fact is, I was the only customer! A man approached my table.
“I’m sorry those damn Mexicans stole everything they could pick up and carry off. All we have are eggs.”
“That’s fine. Fried please. Were you here when the town was attacked?” “Yes of course. My wife and I hid in the root cellar, but we saw everything! Those Mexicans looted every store. There were over a thousand of them! They went from room to room in the hotel, taking everyone to the street in their nightclothes. Villa was looking for some guy named Wright. He was not there but they found his wife! This Wright fellow had some dealings with Villa and had sold him some rifles. Turns out they were defective and Villa wanted his money back. Villa kept screaming for Wright to come out. I guess Wright knew if he did, he was a dead man, so he stayed hidden. Villa had a post set in the middle of the street and tied Wright’s wife to it. As the dawn was breaking, Villa had her night clothes stripped off her in front of everyone! Then he approached her with a whip in his hand. He screamed that if Wright did not come out, he was going to whip her. Wright did not show his face. Wright’s wife was screaming for Villa not to do it. Villa laughed and approached her; she remained quiet as he ran his hands over her young body. The entire crowd was silent as they watched him squeeze her ass cheeks and fondle her big, bare breasts.
“Please don’t do this! My husband is not here. He left last night for El Paso!” she screamed. Villa held her face in his hands as he said, “I don’t believe a man would leave his beautiful young wife here all alone. He would have surely taken you with him. Now tell me where he is hiding!” She shook her head defiantly.
“Things are about to get very unpleasant for you, Mrs. Wright. I hope your husband is watching!”
Villa stepped back and unfurled the long whip as one of his men rode up. He whispered something to Villa. Whatever was said seemed to make Villa forget about the girl tied naked to the post. He handed the whip to another man, ordered his horse brought to him and mounted it.
“Bring me a wagon!”
In minutes a wagon pulled by two mules came down the street and stopped in front of him.
He ordered, “Cut her loose and put her in the wagon.”
Mrs. Wright was cut down, her hands tied behind her, then helped up into the wagon. She was still naked! Villa ordered his men to take what they wanted, then he left screaming, “Viva Mexico!” as they raced out of town. I imagine that will be the last time we will ever see Mrs. Wright. I hate to think what those Mexicans will do to her.”
My eggs arrived so I thanked him for the information. After eating I walked back over to the hotel trying to think of what I should do.
Chapter 2
Edward Wheeler---I walked around town hearing stories about how the Mexicans looted the town and burned down some of the houses. There were lots of stories, but the one about Villa kidnapping a white woman was the one I was going to write! I could only imagine what the illustrators could do with it! A beautiful blond, white girl tied naked to a post in the middle of a street full of people, with Poncho Villa, today the most hated man in all of the United States, holding a bullwhip! That image on the cover will sell millions of books!
I thought about going into Mexico and trying to get an interview with Villa myself but eventually decided that was too dangerous. At breakfast the next morning I heard a cheer go up out in the street and looked out to see what was going on. Riding up were two people, a man and a woman. The woman was a blond and had on clothes that did not fit her. The dark-skinned man with her had on a Mexican sombrero and wore a poncho. I asked a man standing next to me who they were. He said they were Gloria Wright, the girl Villa had kidnapped and her husband.
Now this is the story that will make this trip worthwhile!
I watched as they dismounted and went into the hotel.
Chapter 3
I hurried out of the restaurant and crossed the street as they walked into the hotel. They took the stairs to the second floor. My floor! I watched as they entered the room two doors down from mine. I was in a quandary about what to do. If I waited someone else may get this story. I wanted an exclusive! I knocked on the door.
Mr. Wright answered.
“Mr. Wright, my name is Edward Wheeler. I am a journalist from New York. (I know, but it’s just a small lie) I would like to talk to you about your dealings with Poncho Villa. If...”
“We are not interested...” He was about to close the door.
“I can pay for your exclusive story!” I shouted.
“Just a minute.” He shut the door and I heard him speaking with his wife. Then the door opened.
“Come in Mr., did you say your name was Wheeler?” “Yes Edward Wheeler, thank you.”
I walked into the room and noticed a small table with two chairs. I pointed to it and asked, “May i?”
“Sure.”
I sat my briefcase on the table and pulled out a chair and pointed to the other chair, “Please, sit.”
He sat as his wife came out from behind a dressing screen. I could not help but stare at this beautiful girl! I stood up as she walked towards me.
“Mr. Wheeler, This is my wife, Gloria.”
She offered me her hand and I took it.
“I heard part of what you went through at the hands of Villa and I want you to know how sorry I am. As I told your husband, I am a journalist from New York. My company will pay for your exclusive story.”
She smiled and sat on the bed without saying a word. I turned back to Mr. Wright.
“First, let’s get the paperwork out of the way.”
I sat down and retrieved the release forms from my briefcase and handed them to him. He took a minute, read them then asked where to sign. Good, he can read! I pointed to a line at the bottom and he signed, then motioned for his wife. She picked up the form, looked at it, then made an X at the bottom. She cannot read or write!
I filed the releases away and asked Mr. Wright to begin.
“Those Enfield rifles were not defective! They were brand new! If you do not load the magazine properly it will cause the rifle to jam...”
“Stop. Let’s start at the beginning. Where were you born and raised?” He looked at his wife.
“I was left on the doorstep of the St. Thomas Orphanage in New Orleans, Louisiana when I was just a few days old. I always imagined that I was born to a white mother who had either been raped or had an affair with a black man. She or her family did not want to raise a ‘creole’ baby. The nuns raised me for the next 18 years. I was given a good education and learned to speak English, French and Spanish. When I left the orphanage, I joined the army. Because of my skin color I was not stationed with white troops but send to Fort Riley Kansas to train with the 10th Cavalry or Buffalo soldiers as they are better known. There I learned to dress, march and ride like a cavalry trooper. After basic I was assigned to Fort Huachuca in Arizona. That is where I met Iron Knife, an Apache scout. He taught me to track, live off the land and move silently among my enemies. After six years of chasing renegade Indians and outlaws, I got out of the Army and made my way to Dallas, Texas. There I found a job working security at the Cattleman’s Club. That’s where I met Gloria.”
He looked over at her and smiled.
“I was working in the bar when we met,” she said as she smiled back at him.
“Why don’t you tell me your story now. Where were you born and raised?”
“I was born and raised on a ranch outside of Dallas. My father was a horse trader. I was an only child and my mother died when I was twelve from the fever. My father started drinking every night after her death. It was just him and I, alone in that house. One night when I was 14, he came into my room and raped me! He continued raping me for the next two years! I had just turned 16 when I decided to leave. One day while he was away, selling some horses to the Army, I saddled my horse and left, vowing never to return. I made it to Dallas and with the money I had stolen from my father, I rented a room and started to look for work. I had never gone to school and never learned to read or write so my options were very few. One day I passed by the Cattlemen’s Club and noticed a ‘help wanted’ sign. I entered and was shown into the bar section of the club. There a man interviewed me asking about my situation. I told him the truth, and he offered me the job. It came with a room on the second floor.”
“What did you do?”
She looked at her husband, he nodded. She continued.
“The Cattlemen’s Club is divided into two sections. At the front is the restaurant. Members can bring their families for lunch or dinner. At the rear of the building is the bar. It is strictly for men only. I worked in the bar, serving drinks and attending to the needs of the men.”
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