Posted by hisdinner on August 01, 2004 at 20:43:36:
Excerpt: Molly Saunders’s 4-H Project Journal, July 21st, 2004
I have my show box packed and ready and Dad promised to get me up at 3:00 a.m. so
we could load my heifer in before jerky stupid Robert’s calf. I can’t believe I show
tomorrow! I have my show stick and my new halter ready but they won’t fit in the
Show day box and I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight worrying about what
I might be forgetting. Mrs. Smith, thanks again so much for mentoring me.
Excerpt: Molly’s Private Diary (Fuck off and die! This means you, Butt-Face Bob!)
Weds.
God, I hope my new jeans don’t make my ass look fat in the ring, cuz Jeff promised
he’d be there and I’m gonna die just seeing him out there in the bleachers. Cindy ‘n
Debbie want to go out on the midway right after we show but I am changing into
some cooler clothes, god I hate looking like a lame cowgirl even if I am. Jeff (kiss!)
is always looking at those little muffies who act like Britney clones. Sucks 2 B them.
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Fair Hunting
We strolled through the fairgrounds, stopping to allow big pickup trucks hauling huge horse trailers past. By the time we got to the Livestock Judging Barn, the bleachers were filling up fast. The day’s agenda listed 4-H judging at 8:00. We took seats midway up the central set of bleachers in a drafty show barn. A low railing separated us from the floor of the show ring. Outside the rear and side doors, a row of nervous teens lined up their heifers. It was time to go.
The first group of heifers entered the ring. The kids controlling them used long sticks with points and hooks to alternately prod and soothe their animals. There were ten nervous competitors in the ring, ranging from a hulking off-season high school fullback down to an elfin girl who barely made the senior division. I followed my master’s gaze and focused on the girl he’d chosen.
Molly was a redhead farmer’s daughter from outside Goshen. She held her heifer in head-up, best side to the judge-position, midway in the line. She stood, nervously stroking the belly of her heifer as the judge made his way around the ring, deliberating, questioning and rearranging the order of the contestants. The heifer stood placidly as Molly posed her. Molly’s thick brunette hair was captured at the nape of her neck in a simple ribbon tie. Her eyes remained on the judge, though she cast fleeting glances at the crowd. My heart quickened when she looked our way.
The judge drew out his top three heifers and let the others leave the ring. Molly remained along with the fullback and the elfish girl. The judge spoke into a microphone. Molly’s heifer jerked on her halter and her muscles rippled in waves down her glossy back. The judge approached.
“Now folks, this heifer has the best bones I’ve seen today. And she’s almost gone too deep in the ribs, but we want that more than shallow, don’t we?”
He looked at Molly, and she nodded earnest agreement. The heifer twitched her head and Molly deftly stroked her with the show stick.
“Fine finish to her rump, but I’d have taken this one 45 to 60 days ago, before her ribs were quite so well-covered. But young lady, you’ve raised up a fine little heifer. She’ll butcher out real good.”
“Oh yes she will,” my master said, ignoring the heifer, and looking at the girl. Molly was well-finished too. Her luscious body barely fit inside her Levis, and her cowgirl shirt gaped open to hint at ripe, firm cleavage. Molly accepted the third place ribbon with sweet grace and looked relieved to be finished. She cast long looks into the stands, disappointment clouding her eyes.
“You’ll bump into her after she pens her animal,” he said. “You know what to do.”
I nodded, smiling up at him, watching Molly lead her heifer to the stalls.
He squeezed my arm just enough to make me wince, then kissed me, leaning closer. “My birddog,” he whispered. He smiled at me, but his eyes were cold and sure. “Don’t lose this girl.”
I hopped off the bleachers and pursued her. I dawdled in the cattle pens, watching all the contestants pen their animals, or muck the stalls, or lead nervous cattle to fit-out for the ring. Molly and two other girls had penned their cattle and turned to leave the barn. Molly carried a backpack and waved her arms, apparently upset. I followed them inside a long white building that held gardening displays and huge restrooms designed to accommodate the fair crowds. The girls were right beside me in a pair of bathroom stalls, shouting back and forth. I could hear Molly’s breath expelled in bursts as she pulled off her clothes and changed.
“Oh Molly, you don’t want to leave now, come ON!”
“He said he’d BE here, damn it, but just now I called his cell and he was still sleeping, man!” I heard Molly zip up her pants and step out of the stall. I hesitated, then walked to the sink and started brushing my hair. Good move. As she stepped up to the mirror, our eyes met and I put on an empathetic face and shook my head.
She turned to her friends, the little dwarfy thing and a strapping blond. “I’m hitching into town. He said his parents were gone till late tonight. But they took the car. You guys will have fun anyway, go on!”
How easy can it be? I thought. I wouldn’t need the ether, after all.
Her two friends pouted. They were disappointed, knowing that their best boy-bait had just cut out. Molly finished fluffing up her hair, and smoothed down a clingy belly shirt, and said, “Seeya!”
I caught her eyes in the mirror again as I used my finger to daub gloss onto my lips. Hers eyes were on my face, then flicked down to my breasts, barely covered in a sheer summer dress. I’d added one little ornament stolen from a dozing fellow at the gate, an “Elkhart County Fair Board Official” badge. “If you need a ride to town, I’m heading there. You shouldn’t hitchhike.” I looked her over, smiling, “Especially dressed like that. Want a ride?”
Molly beamed and nodded, “Sure! Wow, that’s great, thank you!” Her 4-H manners were intact, despite her recent setbacks. I only wished she’d left her pony tail intact, but maybe I’d replace that look with pigtails. I thought he’d like that. We walked to the car, and she was only a little nervous when she saw my master, waiting there. Sunglasses helped him disguise his hungry eyes. He took the backseat and let us girls sit side by side. Molly kept glancing back at him, bubbling and flirty on the first leg of our ride.
Once we were clear of the fairgrounds and driving on a deserted road, he leaned forward and covered her mouth and nose with his hand, the other arm encircling her neck and pulling back into her seat. He spoke clearly into her shell-pink ear as she tried to break his grip.
”I have ether to subdue you; girl, but I prefer my heifers drug-free. Settle down, or I’ll have to kill you here. And now.”
Molly was a fighter. She squalled and hissed and struggled. I did my best to not swerve as she kicked and twisted in the seat beside me. When her nails left long gashes on his forearm, he’d had enough. He had me pull off the road and then he climbed out of the car and grasped her by the hair and dragged her into the cornfield. He shook his head, and then drove one fist into her exposed belly. The blow forced Molly to her knees, and she rocked there, arms wrapped around her midsection, gagging and weeping. He pulled back sharply on her hair and gauged the fire in her eyes. It had been replaced by bewildered terror. She took a shuddery halting breath and bleated like a lamb.
He smiled. This was just the way he liked them. “Fetch the cord.”
I scrambled to obey. His eyes never left the girl as he loomed over her, his crotch inches from her mouth. I wondered if he’d use her. I swallowed, watching her rock and weep, her lips so close to his zipper. Once he’d had me use nothing but my teeth to unzip his pants and free him. But first he’d gripped my hair tight at the back of my head and rubbed my face, my lips so hard against that rough denim and that zipper. My lips were puffy and tender when I tried to catch the pull in my teeth. Each time I failed to capture the pull and unzip him, he cuffed me, slapping my right cheek and then my left. By the time I succeeded, my mouth was swollen, and as I suckled him, I left little rivulets of blood on his shaft.
I was jarred out of my reverie when he brushed past me, tugging the girl along. Molly’s wrists had been bound behind her and the excess cord drawn through her crotch and back up to her neck and looped around it. She gasped and choked as he pushed her into the back of the car. “That will keep her five more miles,” he said, brushing corn dust from his clothes. In the back seat, Molly sobbed and wriggled, but she didn’t try to kick us. Already learning, I thought. But too late.
He used to take the girls I’d find and slaughter them the very morning they arrived. Now he found much more satisfaction in delaying their deaths. He loved to see them squirm. Oh, and how desperate they were to please him, every one, once they saw the others. He delighted in taking his new catches down the basement stairs to the chill of the meat locker. Our walk-in cooler held a preparation table complete with drains and catch-pans for gutting. What took one’s breath away were the girls.
Today he led Molly down the stairs gripping her rough leash so that it drew up tight inside her crotch and began to choke her harder. She spat and wept and coughed. He guided her inside the insulated door and let me trail behind. I closed the door as he jerked on her lead and forced her to face the storage area. Molly screamed.
She saw Janice, pierced through both her ankles, just between the tendons and the meat, her belly slit, her green eyes dull and vacant, hanging upside down. “Her meat is aging well,” he said, prodding at her thigh and tugging the halves of her chest apart to check the color. Molly’s knees buckled. It took his sharp backhand before she regained her feet.
He turned Molly, using her bound wrists as a handle, and forced her to look at my captured beauties. There were only three now. A little Mexican girl rested on the worktable. He’d only bled her out last night. Her body was whole except for her slashed throat. She’d been a lovely girl, and he’d kept her nearly a week. When he beat her, she called out to the Virgin, every time. He’d let me soothe her when he fucked her. I knew a little Spanish. I think her name was Maria, but I’m not sure.
Janice hung next to what remained of Donna. They were blonds, one bottle, and one natural. It was harder to tell now since he’d taken half of Donna and had me shave their bodies. Only Janice’s hair remained, hanging almost to the floor as her meat aged. It’s funny how the girls must be so young when I bring them to him, but then they have to wait and wait. I looked at the cleft flesh of those sweet girls and I felt phantom knife blades cleaving me. I ran a finger down my midline. I waited, too.
Molly was pleading to leave this place, and promising him everything she had to give. He let her go on, offering no sign that he had even heard. Her voice broke and she sobbed and she slipped to her knees again. She looked up at him, the rough cord striping her neck as it choked her. “Please, Mister, I would, I would, I would do anything, please let me go.”
He turned to face her, a broad grin on his face. “Oh, you will,” he said, petting her head. Tears streamed constantly down Molly’s face, and she didn’t seem to notice them as they soaked the fabric of her shirt. But he did. He leaned down and held her face in both hands; gently tilting her chin upwards as he licked away her tears. His eyes closed briefly, and then he released her head and stood upright again, turning to me.
“It’s five o’clock. Check the oven and see how dinner’s coming. I’ll call you when I need you.”
All this time he had been caressing Molly’s cheek, her shoulders, drawing her up on trembly legs. He released her wrists and allowed her to cling to him as he supported her, his free hand rubbing her nipples and her breasts. Molly whimpered as the blood rushed into her hands but she did not let go of him. He guided her out of the cold, and up the stairs, and into his bed. I watched them go. I ached for him.
The kitchen was filled with the rich scent of roasting meat. I peeked in on Donna to see how she was doing. It was time to uncover her and let her brown. I turned my head away from the escaping steam. Ah, he’d removed her head. Practical, but I missed it. She had the most endearing smile. The right half of her golden torso roasted in a huge pan, and her juices sizzled and infused the potatoes nestled close to her. Her meaty leg and arm had yielded at least three other meals. Tonight he’d dine on her ribs; he’d slice open her breast and release the ambrosial stuffing he’d slipped inside her. Her full, luscious breast browned and swelled to sweet perfection in the oven. I knew that it was almost time.
I had just finished making a salad when he came back to me. He’d brought her too. She wore the belly shirt but now it hung in tatters; he’d slit it apart to form a vest that did not begin to cover her large, round breasts. He’d stripped the rest of her bare. I doubted that she’d wear clothes again. Molly stood slightly behind him, as if to shield her nakedness or hide from me. I wasn’t sure. She did not meet my eyes. One corner of her mouth was swollen and her belly and breasts bore his bite marks and the welts from his belt.
Funny how those welts resembled the grill marks from a barbecue. I decided to suggest that particular cooking method over dinner. He skipped the salad, and only dined on girl.