Mona, the Bandit
Copyright© 2025 by Ayra Atkinson
Chapter 4
Western Sex Story: Chapter 4 - In the lawless Wild West, Mona “The Maverick” McCallister fights her way from saloon brawler to feared outlaw alongside the infamous Dust Marauders. After a brutal showdown with a rival fighter, she’s recruited into a world of high-stakes heists, dangerous alliances, and shadowy treasures like the legendary Crimson Eye. Through battles, narrow escapes, and bonds forged in blood and trust, Mona rises as both a leader and a legend — her past and passions marked by scars, victories, and moments bes
Caution: This Western Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Mult Consensual NonConsensual Fiction Crime Western Rough Orgy Cat-Fighting Violence AI Generated
As they approached the outskirts of the town, the air grew thick with the stench of smoke and the cacophony of raucous laughter and gunfire. Hellfort was a cesspool of vice, a place where the weak were prey and the strong ruled supreme. Mona could feel the tension coil within her, her body poised and ready for whatever the town had in store.
The gang entered the town, their eyes scanning the dilapidated buildings and the shadowy figures that lurked in the alleyways. They made their way to the saloon that doubled as a black market, where whispers of the Crimson Eye had already begun to spread. The bartender, a grizzled man with one eye patched, raised an eyebrow at the sight of them.
Fred sauntered up to the bar, the Crimson Eye glinting in the dim light. He slapped a gold coin down on the counter. “I’m looking for a man who collects rare stones,” he said, his voice low and carrying the authority of a man used to getting what he wanted. “Someone who can appreciate the beauty of this here rock.”
The bartender eyed the coin and then the stone, his one good eye twinkling with greed. He leaned in, the scent of stale whiskey and tobacco on his breath. “You’re looking for Doc McTeague,” he murmured, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s got a taste for the peculiar, that one does. Runs a pawnshop down the street, but don’t let the name fool you. He’s got his hands in every dirty deal in Hellfort.”
Mona felt a thrill run through her as Fred nodded in understanding, his eyes never leaving the bartender’s. The game was afoot, and she was eager to see how the night would unfold. They had the stone, the posse was behind them, and a town full of potential enemies lay before them. It was a heady cocktail of danger and excitement, and she was ready to drink it in.
The Doc’s pawnshop was easy to spot – a ramshackle building with a flickering neon sign that read ‘McTeague’s Curiosities’. The Dust Marauders dismounted, leaving their horses tied outside. The door creaked open, revealing a cluttered room filled with oddities and the faint scent of something long dead. At the back, a man with spectacles and a wild beard looked up from his workbench, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the stone.
“Ah, the Crimson Eye,” he said, his voice a mix of awe and greed. “A true rarity. I’ve heard tales of its power, but never seen it with my own two eyes.”
Fred laid the stone on the counter, his hand resting casually on the butt of his gun. “We’re looking to sell,” he said, his voice firm. “What’s your best offer?”
The doctor’s eyes narrowed as he studied the stone, his fingers tracing its intricate facets. “Five thousand dollars,” he said, his voice betraying his excitement. “But that’s just a starting point. It’s worth ten times that to the right buyer.”
Mona watched as the tension in the room grew thick, her hand resting lightly on her own pistol. She knew that the true worth of the stone was not in the gold it could bring but in the power it could wield. The Dust Marauders had to be careful – the wrong buyer could bring a world of trouble down upon them.
Fred leaned in, his eyes boring into the doctor’s. “We need the right buyer,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Someone who won’t come looking for us once they have it. You know anyone like that?”
The doctor nodded, a greedy smile spreading across his face. “As a matter of fact, I do. But it’ll cost you extra to make the introduction.”
The gang exchanged glances, the air heavy with anticipation. The Crimson Eye was a prize that could change their fortunes, but it was also a weapon that could turn the tide in the wrong hands. They had to tread carefully, lest they become the hunted once more.
The deal was struck, and the Dust Marauders followed the doctor through the twisted streets of Hellfort, the stone a heavy burden between them. They arrived at a mansion that stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of squalor, its gates guarded by men with hard eyes and itchy trigger fingers.
The buyer was a man named Lawrence ‘the Con’ Hayes, a wealthy and enigmatic figure who had built his fortune on the backs of the poor and the desperate. His eyes lit up at the sight of the Crimson Eye, and he offered them a sum that made even the doctor’s eyes widen in shock.
Fred took the money, a sly smile playing on his lips as he tucked the bills into his pocket. “You’ll keep our names out of this?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
Hayes nodded, his eyes never leaving the stone. “My dear Mr. Webster, you have my word,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “The Crimson Eye is a treasure that deserves a private collection, far from the prying eyes of the law. Your involvement will remain our little secret.”
With the exchange made and their pockets heavier, the Dust Marauders retreated into the heart of Hellfort, seeking refuge and revelry in the one place that could match their wild spirit – the Red Rattlesnake Saloon. The moment they stepped through the swinging doors, the raucous music and laughter washed over them like a wave of sweet, intoxicating freedom. The patrons, a motley crew of gamblers, whores, and cutthroats, took little notice of the new arrivals. It was a place where everyone had a story to tell, and no one was eager to hear yours.
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