Posted by hisdinner on December 25, 2003 at 10:38:30:
Bonnie, Pawn of the Gods by hisdinner
Prologue
Bonnie was a bit older than her adventurous cousin Alice, but none the wiser. For all her beauty, Bonnie was unschooled in the ways of the world. The sheltering embrace of her family's farm protected her. But Bonnie envied Alice; she wanted adventure, too, so she set off through her family's meadows to find some. She had the notion that she might disappear into a rabbit's hole. Stranger things had happened, to hear Alice tell it, after all.
Bonnie was fair, blond, blue-eyed; as light on her feet and as quick witted as Alice, but Bonnie was possessed of a body curved so divinely that even the Gods admired it. As they peered down through the perpetual mists that veiled the northern countryside, two of the gods, (those of storm, and blood lust and fire) discussed her fate.
"This girl needs spice, look at her, untouched still. For all her beauty, she's as bland as milk. She's as innocent as we are cruel," the elder god grumbled to his hot blooded son. Below, distant thunder rumbled. The two gods watched little Bonnie wander through fields of flowers. Bonnie looked up and twitched her shoulders as the thunder sounded.
"Blow on the poppies, see where they'll transport her," the younger god suggested. "I've got my eye on a man or two who would like to find her, all drowsy from a drugged sleep. If it's education you want to give the girl, I'll cause a few men to happen into her path, and...that's that." The younger god bared wolfish teeth and grinned, watching Bonnie's form as she bent to pluck flowers and tuck them into her glorious pale curls.
The elder God looked down at Bonnie again, and smiled, and shook his head. Birds and startled rabbits flew and scurried out from the whorls of his great beard. He waved them away, absorbed in watching the sweet young girl. All around the gods, mists swirled as the little creatures found new hiding places. He chuckled, scratched absently at his beard, and shook his head again. " As simple as that? No, by thunder!"
A deafening roar rolled through the lands below. Skies darkened as huge clouds descended, and even up above, in the palace of the gods, the air shimmered. Far below, Little Bonnie hugged her arms around her and ran to take shelter under a great oak, her eyes on the ominous, swirling sky.
"I want to grant her wishes. If you set your men on her before I give that girl my blessing, she won't last even one hour. No.....stay your hand, my son. Wait. I want my little Bonnie to have dozens of adventures."
The younger god frowned, and cracked his fingers, and geysers erupted in lines across the far landscape below. "A compromise, then, Father? Let's both enjoy this little one. You let my men have their fun...and in return, you give that girl a thousand lives...a thousand torments, but all forgotten, each day a new one. What say you?"
The elder of the Gods roared laughter, and the cacophony below caused barns and hovels to flatten, and exposed lovers to snatch up their clothes and run in terror. "Done! I've sent her down a charm. But not quite as you suggested."
His son glowered and asked, "You'll spoil my fun? In what way will you ruin it this time, Father?"
The old god smiled and shook his head. "Steady, now, I haven't cheated you. Your men will find her quite accessible. But she won't have a thousand new lives, my sentimental son. She asked for experiences, memories. We won't rob her! So, my son..my charm won't protect her. Little Bonnie will remember every one of her adventures. Only her body will forget...so that in each new encounter her teacher will have the joy of leaving the first lesson's marks on pristine flesh. Each new encounter, her body will be as perfect as it is, right now."
The elder god grinned and flexed his thighs. Below, the hills undulated, rivers changed their courses, and whole villages were lost. The younger son slapped his father's back and laughed, as geysers spouted torrents of steam and water. Bonnie clung to the tree, watching her world suddenly turned upside down. Deer and rabbits darted toward her, escaping the spouting, undulating earth. The rolling clouds pelted sheets of freezing rain, and Bonnie shivered against the rough bark of the huge tree.
The younger god licked his lips and contemplated the chance to see her innocence corrupted not once, but many times. He met his father's eyes, and recognized the same hot light in his. They grinned at each other, and the sky was filled with ozone. The very air crackled, but the old God frowned and stayed his hand once more. Lightening zigzagged high above the drenched, pale girl. The father stared into his son's eyes and spoke each word in thunderclaps that cracked the mountains, and rent the earth. "We have a pact. Send your men into her path. I'll send the girl. "
The elder god gazed down on his damp, shivering beauty, his little Bonnie. He snapped his fingers. A bolt of lightening struck the oak. Little Bonnie screamed as the lightening flung her far from the trunk as the great tree crackled and smoked. The gods admired her unconscious form, her skirts exposing thighs tapering to lovely calves, the rain molding thin cloth to her ripe, round breasts. Bonnie shifted and moaned.
The two gods settled down with strong drink and smiled in great anticipation. "Entertain us, little one," whispered the young god.
"We drink to her first adventure!" said the elder. Then in a softer voice, he asked his son, "The first man who will touch that skin...have you picked a special one?"
The younger grinned broadly as he watched the girl shift and whimper and waken. "Oh, yes, he is special, Father. Truly a man with special tastes."
Chapter One: Piglets and Pepperpots
When Bonnie woke, she was shaking with cold, her clothes clung wetly. Her head felt strange, she was disoriented. Everything around her seemed so changed.
"Hmm," she mused as she picked herself off the ground. "That lightening bolt must have thrown me." Bonnie glanced down at her body, feeling arms and legs gingerly, but found no real injuries. She trembled from the freezing rain, and rubbed her arms and stamped her feet.
"But I can't seem to...to ... where am I?" she cried, turning in a slow circle, eyes widening. Bonnie recognized none of her surroundings. "I must have gone farther than I intended," she whispered to herself. Bonnie found a narrow cart path and set off in search of the way home. "I'll start my adventures tomorrow," she promised herself. "Right now, all I want is to be next to the fire in some dry clothes!"
The skies rumbled once again, and it sounded almost like laughter.
Bonnie's shoes squelched as she walked briskly down the road, sure that around the next curve in the path, she'd recognize something-- her family's barn, their old shepherd dog, her home. Instead, the further she walked, the less recognizable things became. Where there should have been whitewashed cottages and well-tended fields, there were cabbages and garbage heaps. Then, a row of cottages came into view, sure enough. But they weren't hers! As she rounded the last bend, the meadow opened up again, and she stared at the vista before her. No cattle, no horses, no hayfields drenched with rain. The fields were lush and full and wet, yes. But instead of cows, they seemed to be full of girls. Naked girls. Lots of them.
Bonnie sputtered her wordless astonishment. There were at least a dozen of them, standing or crouched on all fours, some sitting. All naked, and most were eating, too. Grazing girls? Bonnie stopped abruptly and hid behind a tree, blushing hot and deep red. Naked girls, sure enough, at least a dozen, flocked in groups of two or three, inhabiting a farmer's field? Bonnie moaned and held both hands up to her head. "This just is too strange, oh, oooh, my head!" she said, shaking it hard, rubbing her eyes and looking cautiously back around the tree. Still there. Twelve of them, she counted! Bonnie exclaimed under her breath, and stepped out from behind her cover and crossed to the fence. It was far too short to hold them in. Bonnie cleared her voice and called, "Hullo! Hullo, there...you girls! Can someone..can you tell me where I am? Whose farm is this?"
As one, the girls turned their heads to her. They shifted their well-fed bodies next, slowly, languid in each movement, undisturbed by her presence. Bonnie repeated herself, twice more, each time a little louder. The girls weren't ten yards away, and yet they seemed unable to hear her. "Some secret cloister of witches?" she wondered, "Or ...or, imbeciles?" Bonnie's irritation grew. Here she was, drenched to the skin, her dress clinging to her most annoyingly, she'd lost her way, it was getting dark, and now these girls didn't seem to even hear a word she said.
"Or understand me!" Bonnie thought. "They're acting like my father's prized dairy cows. And --oh!" Bonnie blushed again as the aptness of her description sank in. They were exactly like cows, she thought, yes. The girls in this field all had one thing in common, too. Though they were tall and short, blond and dark, they all were adorned with the roundest, most full, really splendid breasts. Bonnie's blush returned as she acknowledged how beautiful they were, these strange, silent girls. Some had gently rounded bellies and others were obviously with child. Bonnie found herself staring, fascinated at their nakedness. They didn't seem to mind. In fact, she noticed some had wandered off and were eating apples plucked from trees scattered through their field.
"So strange, they haven't said a word," said Bonnie. She tried to speak with them once more. "Can you point me to Kellar's farm? Do you know it? I seem to have got all turned around." Most of the naked girls watched her, some biting into their apples, some strolling closer. Bonnie had hopped the fence, rucking up her skirts, feeling overburdened by the sopping clothes, envying the girls their easy movements. Two of the girls, hand in hand, walked up to Bonnie as she spoke. One giggled, and the other smiled, reached out without hesitation, and touched Bonnie's breasts through the sheer wet fabric of her bodice.
"I beg your pardon?" said Bonnie, backing up a step and staring at the girl whose hand had cupped her breast. "What is going on? Who are you? Why...what...?" The curious pair of naked girls were indissuaded by Bonnie's flustered tone. They smiled again and approached her, this time, taking her hands and gently tugging her toward them. Bonnie flushed crimson as the taller girl, a redhead with lush curves bent to Bonnie's mouth and kissed her. The other girl giggled and tugged them both along what appeared to be a cowpath--a girl path, Bonnie wondered?--that led into a grove of trees and hill behind them.
"I guess my adventure starts today, after all," Bonnie whispered as she quickened her pace to match that of her escorts. "I wonder if they have a post here. I really ought to tell Mum and Dad I'm all right."
When they reached the trees, Bonnie noticed that the other girls were straggling along behind them, in twos and threes, some still ate apples, and others had berry stains on their lips. Bonnie was entranced with the sway of their breasts as the girls walked along. She almost stumbled into her shorter, blond escort when they rounded a bend and came to a stop.
"Oh, clumsy of me! Sorry!" Bonnie said. They'd arrived at a large stone cottage with a lovely peaked roof. Beside it was a long wooden barn. Children cavorted in the yard behind, and ran out to greet the naked girls as soon as they laid eyes on her. Bonnie was surrounded by a gaggle of dirty, inquisitive, naked children who showed much more interest in her than their naked elders had. They grabbed at her wet garments and tugged, trying to tear them from her body. They hooted and giggled and gibbered some sort of secret speech. Bonnie tried to fend them off, a strained smile pasted on her face. When she was about to shout, "Enough! Stop it!" a man appeared at the cottage door. He took a few steps into the yard. Bonnie noticed a sign next to the door that read, "Hardesty." Mr. Hardesty, or whoever this man was, rang a bell three times and the crowd of grubby children parted. They scuttled back into the yard, but hung there, clinging to the fence posts, watching.
The twelve lovelies also responded to the bell. They lined up in two orderly rows. Bonnie thought they'd sorted themselves by belly size. It looked as if the ones with child were to the left, and the others to the right. She stood awkwardly in the center of the clearing before the cottage, unsure whether to join ranks, or to run.
"Hello?" Bonnie summoned her courage and raised a hand. Mr. Hardesty smiled slightly and crossed the yard, ending up in front of her. She was greatly relieved to realize that he wore clothes, conventional ones, clothes like her father's. Bonnie smiled back at Mr. Hardesty and let loose a torrent of questions, trying to avoid the most obvious, such as, "What are these mute naked women doing here?"
Halfway through her flurry of words, the man she thought of as Mr. Hardesty winced and held up one hand, and Bonnie stopped for breath. Had he understood? She thought hard, then tried her few words of German, French, even a bit of Latin on him. She was quite sure she'd bungled the last two languages badly. She was afraid she'd asked him how to find the street of smoked hams, or that maybe, she'd asked for the time of day in pot cheese. Bonnie paused, a little out of breath. She felt so awkward, and her poor head ached.
Mr. Hardesty shook his head and laughed and said, "You're a prize catch."
He spoke her language! That realization unleashed another spate of questions and explanations from the panicky, wet girl. She gestured and used great dramatic movements to act out the terrible storm, and her wanderings, and the fierce headache she had suffered since the oak tree was struck, and she was cast down, unconscious. The man nodded gravely, stifling a snorting chuckle when she asked him once again if he could please direct her homeward.
"But that's not a funny question. I want to go home!" cried Bonnie, disconsolate and wet and tired and overwhelmed at the sight of all these girls. The naked ones had kept to ranks, more or less, but several of them had crept closer to the man, and one of them was massaging his ---Bonnie stared and then blushed again. One of them seemed to be stroking the man right through his pants. It was all too much for Bonnie. Tears welled up and began to roll down her soft cheeks.
"You're days from home, little girl," said the man. He approached her, slipping away from the other girl as if she weren't there at all. He drew Bonnie to his chest and petted her head, just like her father had when she was troubled. He stroked her, running a firm hand down her sides, ignoring her discomfiture. His voice was edged with ice as he said, "You're here with me now, orphan of the storm. Let's get inside. You'll be no use like this. Now. Move." He stepped back from her and waved her toward the cottage door.
Bonnie nodded, trying to ignore his tone, sniffling back more tears as she turned toward the cottage. She walked a few steps, but it was driving her crazy, not knowing. She had to ask. Bonnie stopped and whispered, "But what about the...the girls? They...why are they? What are they...uh...?"
He chuckled and said, "They're mine. They're mute. And I like them that way. Now, get inside the house and off with those clothes. You'll catch your death, girl."
He swatted her rump as she walked in front of him and through the doorway. Her body pleased him. She was so pale, and new, and so different from the herd. She needed breaking, this one. How long had it been since he'd had a spirited girl to use and crush? He smiled again as she turned to him. She practically begged for it, didn't she?
"Not another word." he said, regarding her. "You'll take off your clothes, you'll stay by the fire and you'll help the girls with dinner. Understand?"
Bonnie gaped at him and started to speak. "What a nerve!" she thought to herself, "Why, even my father wouldn't speak to me like that." She let her features harden into the frown her father had called her harridan's aspect. Bonnie stood her ground, rooted by her anger and confusion.
"No!" she thought. "No strange mean man who keeps naked girls in fields is going to give me orders." Bonnie steamed under her wet clothes and squinted angry eyes at him, and turned to leave. "I'll sleep in the barn," she said, "and I'll find my own way home tomorrow." She felt her chest swell up in pride for standing up to this strange man and his evil.
He shook his head and raised one hand and lightly cuffed Bonnie's soft, startled face. The corner of her lip swelled and she tasted blood. She was mortified, and terrified, and cold and wet. Fury overtook her senses, and Bonnie opened her mouth to speak again, to protest and explain why this was all so wrong, how she merely needed a place to stay the night, and she'd be off again...and he cuffed her again, this time, backhanding her harder so that both cheeks were red and stinging, and it hurt to make a sound. Bonnie balled her hands up in two fists and bawled, retreating to the fire as she wept, the warmth of it winning out over the humiliation. She turned away from him and faced the fire.
"Your dress. Remove it now," he spoke to her back. His words poked her spine, she shivered.
"Now," he repeated. "Or you'll regret it. Clothes off, girl."
From the corner of her eye, she saw him reaching for a long leather strap. Bonnie blanched and turned away from him and began to take off her awful clothes. Her fingers fumbled as she pulled her blouse up and unlatched the catches in her skirt. The sodden dress slipped off, and Bonnie stood close by the fire in a thin camisole, long stockings, and her shapeless underwear.
"Godssake, girl. You push me!" Mr. Hardesty growled. He strode across the plank floor and gripped Bonnie around her slender neck. With his other hand he tore off her camisole, then pulled down her underwear, tugging so that she was forced to lift her feet or fall to the floor. It felt as if he wanted her to lose her balance. She clung to Mr. Hardesty's jacket and maintained her upright stance as he pulled her stockings off. When she was bare, he threw her clothes into the dustbin by the hearth. Ash whooshed up and settled onto the wet dress, and Bonnie wept and tried to cover herself.
Taking her by the waist, Mr. Hardesty spun Bonnie around to face the fire, her body pressed against his, her bare rump tight against his legs. He held her wrists and pulled her to him. They stood so close to the hearth that she felt tiny sharp stings on her feet and belly and breasts as sparks leapt from the logs and bit her.
"You're as cold as yesterday's roast veal," he said, "but twice the meat!" He chortled and held her fast as Bonnie squirmed. She realized they were alone, and wondered where all those children were, and the naked girls. The one who kissed her...Bonnie shivered against the man's rough coat and opened her mouth to speak, but her swollen lip was hot and it ached to use it. She peered into the fire, belly growling as the stew pot bubbled. Mmm, a pepperpot. She wondered what wonderful meat cooked there. She wondered if Mr. Hardesty would ever release her. She felt his grip tighten and she tensed against it. She felt him laughing silently against her bare skin. Goose flesh covered her, even as the heat caressed her.
He began to pinch and stroke and fondle her again. Bonnie stiffened and tried to turn and avoid his touch as his hands reached for her breasts. He squeezed them. He took her nipples between thumbs and fingers and tugged and pulled at them. He shifted and worked a knee between her thighs and then his hand was cupping her vulva, and she was mortified again. Bonnie yelped and squirmed and whispered, "No. Oh no, not that, please?"
"Mouthy girl, aren't you?" Mr. Hardesty asked, pressing her down to the floor, down to her knees.
Bonnie watched as Mr. Hardesty took his cock from his pants and smeared it back and forth across her face, holding her hair in a brutal grip as she whimpered. She saw it stiffen and she felt him wedge two fingers into her mouth, and suddenly, his cock was plunging through her bruised lips and he was threatening her life if a single tooth grazed him. Tears rolled down Bonnie's face as he held her head and pulled it down and used her. Her knees wobbled, and she choked and sputtered, and he grunted hard and drowned her with his seed. He left her there by the hearth, hiccuping and wheezing. After a while, Bonnie sat up and drew her knees to her chin, and watched the fire. She thought she'd never hated anyone so much.
"Stir that pot. Mind you don't let the meat burn," he said. "I'm off to slop the hogs."
Hunger won out, of course. The bubbling pepperpot filled the air around her with such delicious scents. Bonnie sat up and reached for the long-handled spoon, then rose on trembling legs to stir the stew. The aroma made her faint, it smelled so good. She hoped he'd finish feeding the animals soon and let her eat. She glanced over her shoulder, then scooped up a spoonful of the rich broth and slurped it in, wincing as the hot stock stung her swollen lips. "Oh..so good," she mumbled, and blew on another spoonful, and drank it down. The pot was thick with chunks of pale meat, and vegetables. She wanted more.
"What pigs?" Bonnie thought suddenly. There was no smell. She'd seen the fields and the barn, she'd seen the girls, the women, and the dirty little children, but nowhere were there any pigs. Not one.
"Curiouser and curiouser," she said to herself. "Pigs that don't stink, and women who wear no clothes, and a devil watching over the whole mess. I can't wait for daylight and an end to this place!"
Bonnie crossed to the back door to take a look at the barn. She wanted to see these sweet smelling pigs for herself. And, she giggled despite everything. She admitted to herself that she'd really like to find that girl, the one who kissed her. It wasn't wrong to want a little comfort, was it? Her body hurt, and she was homesick and so lost. Bonnie stepped out of the cottage, looking for just a little soft sweet cuddling.
Bonnie walked to the wide barn entrance while she was thinking. She stopped and stared into the barn. At first, she was unable to make sense of what she saw. There in the flickering of his lantern was Mr. Hardesty, pouring a bucket of thick mush into a long trough. And there on either side of the trough were the naked girls, each one staring mindlessly at the slop as it filled the space in front of them. Several of the girls had babes cradled to their breasts, suckling noisily. The children were arranged around a smaller trough behind the older girls, already busy rooting in the slimy stuff, their faces smeared with it.
But that was not what made her stop and stare and sink slowly to the straw-covered floor in a faint. What made Bonnie swoon and fall was the sight of the carcasses cured and hanging from the rafters, ready for Mr.Hardesty's next meal. There were four of them, four halves of girls, split like spring lambs, like yearling piglets, split, then smoked and just hanging there, headless and browned. Their breasts...the carcasses had beautiful human breasts, she realized. That's what made little Bonnie swoon. She realized this meat was girl. And that she stood in the fattening pens. She blacked out staring at the mahogany perfection of one fat nipple, and its mate, hanging above her head, three feet away.
"He....... He --eats them," she whispered, and then she turned to jelly, and fell unconscious to the floor.
Bonnie woke with her head resting on a rough plank table. She was in the house again. Her wrists were bound behind her back, and her ankles were bound with sturdy rope. She was sitting on a low bench, and her head was pounding.
"You left the stew to burn! Unconscionable! I realize now that I don't want the special challenges of breaking in a new girl." Mr. Hardesty spoke to her, but he kept his eyes on the crusty loaf of bread that he was sawing.
Bonnie's mouth watered again as she smelled the stew and watched Mr. Hardesty slice off great soft chunks of the chewy bread. Then she paled and moaned, nauseous, remembering the sight of the girls. The butchered ones. "Please, I am sorry --so sorry, SO sorry I bothered you. I will be gone tomorrow at first light. I can get directions from someone else, just..please, let me go, please?" she said, watching Mr. Hardesty's smile grow and stretch his features 'til he looked just like the demon he was.
Outside, shoots of lightening coursed through the night sky and distant thunder rumbled. Mr. Hardesty shook his head and tilted up her chin, and kissed her. He sucked in her lower lip and nibbled on it before he released her. Bonnie whimpered and waited, senses overwhelmed. The aromatic stew, the faint sweet scent of the slop, the sounds of babies suckling, of girls slurping in their troughs, it all sent her mind reeling. And Mr. Hardesty, who had assaulted her tender mouth, was now roughly jerking her up onto the table and onto her knees and forcing her head to the table and her sweet, perfect rump high up in the air. She sobbed and she begged, but he didn't hear her. She cried out her humiliation. His face reflected the hearth fire and his lust.
As the thunder grew louder and the lightening nearer, Mr. Hardesty raped that sweet young girl. He used her brutally and hard, without regard to her pain, and soon her tears darkened the table top, and a few droplets of blood as well, when he'd finished rutting in the girl and stood back to stare at her loveliness, despoiled. Her soft tawny skin was blotched with bite marks and bruises. Her breasts were pummeled, her back was clawed. He left her there, sobbing on the table while he hauled the stew pot to the corner and removed the heavy iron pole that had held it over the fire. He covered his hands with thick gloves and hefted the iron in his two hands. He smiled and looked back at Bonnie. Ahh, good. Just how he'd left her, ass up and ready for the spit.
Bonnie felt a hardness probing her again and moaned and begged him to stop. She didn't know which hurt worse, her heart or her poor damaged cunt. She wept silently as he began poking into her wetness, and then shrieked out her agony as she felt the hard thick pole shoved deep inside her. Bonnie screamed and struggled, but he'd bound her tight, and she was helpless to fight the iron pole as it slowly filled her. She felt tremendous pressure as Mr. Hardesty groaned and swiveled the spit and steeled himself to press it through her, hard work for just one man.
Outside a deafening crash of thunder came in tandem with a bolt of lightening so close it lit the room. Mr. Hardesty squinted and blinked as dim light returned. He resumed his work. Bonnie howled and gurgled beneath him, her body about to be impaled, the heat of the pole already beginning to cook her. Just as he gripped the pole to thrust it deep into her gut, lightening struck. The bolt shot through the timbered ceiling and straight down through the wicked man's heart. Mr. Hardesty was felled by a perfectly aimed bolt that split the man in two, just as he'd split his tender girls. For a long moment his hands still gripped the pole, and it slid out of poor Bonnie's cunt and fell to the floor, the clanging metal echoing the crashing thunder just outside. Mr. Hardesty slipped slowly to the floor, smoking, sizzling, his body cleft into two neat halves. His aroma was more intense than girl meat, but it served well as an offering to the gods.
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The elder god chuckled as he watched his exasperated son stomp away. Volcanoes erupted in Italy, but just below, the elder god caused the mists to swirl and thicken again, and allow the girl to rest and heal. His son was angry at his intervention, mused the elder God of Thunder. Bonnie's next adventure would be perilous, indeed.
by hisdinner