Renate: Fiona’s Torso

By pomponioxyz
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Bahia, Brazil, 1931

I. Fiona’s New Body

Fiona laid on the hospital bed. Her eyes were closed. She was completely nude and bore a quiet smile.

Renate stood next to her. She held her rosary beads in her hands and tried to suppress an urge to scratch. After two years living nude she was not used to the nun’s habit she had been forced to wear.

The doctor that stood next to Fiona nodded.

“She is strong enough to travel now,” said the doctor.

Renate looked carefully over Fiona’s nude body. How small she looked, she thought, like a child’s doll.

Renate bent over and inspected the scars. The legs, removed at the hip had healed fine. The arms, removed at the shoulders, had also healed. What seemed never would ever meet were the lips of the widely distended cunt Fiona sported.

“She is a very strong woman,” agreed Renate.

Fiona, who was conscious, smiled.

“I must congratulate you, Doctor Corcuera,” continued Renate. “The shoulders are nicely rounded. She looks like a classical statue, a sort of limbless Venus.”

Renate shuddered for a moment remembering the front line hospital near Verdun where she had had to perform countless amputations, sometimes without anesthesia.

“I suppose you too want some privacy now,” said the doctor self-consciously. The reputation for nymphomania of the Naked Sisters of Mary Magdalene was well known.

“Oui,” said Renate, “that would be most kind of you.”

The doctor left and Renate insured the door was well locked.

“I bet you the old lecher would want to see us two nymphos making love,” laughed Fiona.

Renate said nothing. She hurriedly took off her habit and stood nude in front of Fiona.

“I have not tasted you in weeks,” said Renate in a voice made husky with lust. “They would not even let me caress you when you were recovering. God, I could smell your cunt. That was how much I lusted after it. And I could not touch you!”

“I remember a fog of opium,” said Fiona.

“Aye, the pain killers,” agreed Renate. “For a moment we all thought the shock of losing all the limbs at the same time would kill you. I cursed myself for having agreed to your wish to have it all taken off at once. You were so close to death that I even had a local priest come and give you absolution.”

“Nonsense,” protested Fiona. “I don’t remember that charlatan at all. But one thing I do remember.”

“What?”

“I could hear your voice and your anguished prayers and felt the caresses and kisses you managed to steal when the doctors and nurses were not looking. I knew you then that you were there with me all the time,” said Fiona. “And your love gave me the steel to endure. Truth is, I so wanted to taste your cunt that I swore that I would not die unless I could breathe my last with your nether lips in my mouth.”

Renate then laid next to Fiona and started caressing and kissing her passionately.

“Oh Jesus, Renate, take me,” pleaded Fiona. “Use me as you please. Hurt me even. I am helpless. I am now just a fuck toy.”

“No, you have been hurt enough, my fuck toy,” said Renate smiling lustily, “maybe later. Right now let us pleasure each other, as of old.”

“I will need your help.”

“Don’t worry, we will figure it out.”

Renate picked her up as if she were a rag doll and placed Fiona on top of her, in the 69 position. Renate placed a pillow underneath her hips and bent her legs to steady Fiona’s head between her legs. She then gently guided Fiona’s head so her face rested in her pubes. The limbless woman pressed her mouth to Renate’s cunt lips and expertly applied her tongue. Renate moaned and in turn pressed her mouth to Fiona’s cunt while embracing the limbless woman’s hips.

An hour later the two women laid side by side staring at each other wordlessly with Renate’s arms wrapped around Fiona’s abbreviated body.

Finally Renate broke the silence.

“If I could, I would divorce Jesus and marry you,” said Renate quietly. “I would devote myself to you, or what is left of you, I don’t care.”

“I prefer to cuckold our husband with you,” answered Fiona pouting her lips to offer a kiss. This Renate did pulling her lips to hers.

“I hope you have no regrets,” said Fiona with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Me have regrets?” replied Renate with some astonishment. “I am not the one that voluntarily had her limbs removed.”

“No, I mean regrets about loving me still after I became this,” clarified Fiona.

“Well, it is not that easy,” smiled Renate. “But even if you were reduced to a still living head I would still love you.”

“That cannot be done, right?” giggled Fiona.

“Of course not!” snarled Renate, ever the professional.

“I had to be torsified if I were to be put out to pasture,” said Fiona firmly.

“Torsified? Is that what it is called?” inquired Renate.

Renate remembered how the women who were “put out to pasture”, that is, permanently placed in a bellyrider’s cradle with the horse penis inside their cunt had their limbs taken off. That way, it had been explained to her, they can only concentrate in the massive horse penis inside them.

“It is safer,” continued Fiona. “If the horse were to roll over my limbs would likely be crushed. This happened regularly to women who were put out to pasture. But if we have no limbs this is not an issue.”

“I know horses get frisky,” answered Renate. “They like to roll around in the mud.”

“Well, the new bellyrider cradles have a base of aluminum rods, very light and strong, so that even if the horse rolls around in the mud I will be held flush and safe against his chest, with no danger of being crushed. At the most I will get very muddy.”

“Removing your limbs is a hell of a price to pay just so you live the rest of your life with a horse penis inside you,” dared say Renate.

“Alas, my love, I have been a naked nun of St. Mary Magdalene for the last 20 years,” replied Fiona. “This big loose cunt of mine is proof.”

“And I do not know enough about the craving for horsecock having only been one for a year and a half?” countered Renate in a hurt tone. “God knows I have tried to make up for lost time. I am getting big down there too.”

“Don’t take it that way, please, my love,” replied Fiona. “There will come a time when your cunt will be like mine, cavernous, and it will actually ache if nothing fills it. Then nothing else will matter to you but to have a horse penis inside you, all the time.”

“I know. I heard about how the alkaloids and chemicals in the yerba dura drive us all mad eventually,” admitted Renate. “I have yet to demonstrate that that is the case. But your case and others I have seen since I joined the order support that theory.”

“Yes, most certainly I will become a half-crazed nymphomaniac. I have seen women like that, who have been in the shaft for eight or ten years. It is good that they did not have limbs for they would have pushed themselves down into the shaft at that point.”

“Ohmigod!” gasped Renate. “Do women last that long with a horse penis inside them?”

“These are extraordinary cases, “explained Fiona. “Nowadays, most get ruptured in around three years, five if you are lucky. But accidents were common before we started having the limbs removed. Very few survived past their sixth month. Many died the first week.”

“Being put out to pasture sounds like a death sentence,” retorted Renate.

“That is how it was in the old days. But now, likely I will extend my time on the shaft for a few more years being limbless and bellyriding in a safe harness. But I am no longer a woman as such. Soon I will become only a living sheath around a horse penis. Frankly, it is a fair price to lose my limbs to live out my last years this way.”

“No, you are right. I do regret it,” admitted Renate shaking her head. “I will be very jealous of your horse.”

“But if you love me you will accept my choice?” asked Fiona quietly.

“Damn,” replied Renate lowering her eyes.

“Please. Besides, it is too late now, right?” Insisted Fiona.

Fiona seemed proud of what she had become. But Renate well remembered the panicked look Fiona had when she came out of the operation and Renate placed a mirror in front of her and she saw the bloody bandages covering where her limbs had been. Acceptance had been a troubling, painful, process, Renate knew. The problem it would still take Renate some time to accept what Fiona had become.

“I will miss fisting you,” whispered Renate slowly inserting her fingers into Fiona’s distended cunt. “And drinking horse semen from your cunt. But from now on this lovely cavern of yours will always be filled by a horse penis. And any horse semen that comes out of you will explode from the tight union of your cunt and his penis.”

“Yesss!” moaned Fiona lustily.

“Then I might as well insure that your cunt is as big as a mare’s such that the horse penis has plenty of slack,” said Renate inserting both her hands inside Fiona and staring at her very fixedly with her eyes shining bright and smiling cruelly. “And I promise that any semen I can collect that jets out of you I will pour down your lovely lips and rub it into your face. Yes, I will insure your face is always covered with a mask of dried horse semen. And I shall drink of this ejaculate which I know will taste of you and the horse. And when we kiss we shall share back and forth this wad of horse seed. And when I wish so, I will press my cunt to your mouth and pee into it and you will drink my urine eagerly and thank me for doing so because it will taste of me and the horse semen that drips out of my womb constantly. Yes, Fiona, if that is the extent of what our love becomes when you become a living sheath around a horse shaft I shall make the most of it. And if I notice that you are ruptured and the horse shaft is deep inside you I shall hug you and very, very, slowly push you down unto the shaft until my hand, resting between your breasts feels the tip of the horse shaft there. And if I know you, my love, I know that at that point you will be smiling from joy and grimacing from pain, your body at loss to interpret the sensation of dying and coming at the same time.”

And at this words Fiona squirmed and moaned loudly and arched her back gripped by an all-encompassing orgasm.

*****

II. Ilse

Sister Ilse was a large Austrian woman, very strong and powerful, with magnificent breasts (more like udders) tipped with dark aureolas. She had been a nun of the Naked sisters of Mary Magdalene for ten years. It was said that she could withstand the pounding of the biggest stallions and the legend was that she had once spent a night with the Lipizzaners. I was also said that her grossly distended cunt seemed made of iron. Her role in the convent had always been to provide muscle when needed and even played the role of enforcer whenever someone dared offend a nun that was walking naked through the streets of Recife.

Despite all her strength Sister Ilse was the gentlest of teachers combining soothing words and a hint of intimidation to help young novices get used to making love to horses. More than one novice being taken for the first time by a horse had realized all of sudden that Sister Ilse’s soothing tone had made it possible to take eight or more inches of horse already.

“It is all a matter of accepting the shaft,” counseled Ilse as she coaxed the tip of the horse penis into a young woman with a tight cunt. “Do not fight it. Your cunt muscles will tighten involuntarily if you do so. And this all will hurt even more. Remember: this penis is what you were meant to take. I know. This is a penis, a horse penis, mind you but a penis. And you, dear, have a cunt to offer it. It is a lovely thing to do, the right thing to do, not an aberration of nature as men with their tiny tools will have you believe. Oh I can see you want it. Look at how sweat forms in your brow and your nipples harden and stand out. It is not only fright but lust too, dear, which fills you. I know, I have seen this over and over. So now, trust me dear. You are so tight, I know, so it is not easy for this flat tipped horse penis to enter you. I know you need it inside you and I also know how to achieve it. There. It is seeking its way in. Ever so slowly. Your lips are opening.

One day they will no longer meet, like mine. Yes, dear, you will have a huge cunt, a mare’s cunt. And it will always be dripping horse semen. Yes, it is going in. Concentrate instead in the sheer depravity of the act, my dear, you, a young woman, a virgin, being deflowered by a horse in front of all the convent. Do you know how proud we will be when its shaft ruptures your hymen and you but whimper and take the pain stoically? Yes, I know, it hurts. And it is good that your eyes glow with lust. Accept the pain, my dear. It is inevitable. But you know you want it, right? I know you want to be fucked by a horse. A big horse. Oh you want that horse shaft to come out of your mouth, right? You want to be really really fucked, as no woman has ever been fucked before, right? Oh you little nympho that is suffering so much because you don’t have a horse penis inside you! You are now dripping wet! Wonderful! Soon you will stand in front of all of us, in rubbery legs, very sore, your cunt dripping blood and horse semen, and you will not only be a full grown woman, a proud one in fact, but even more worthy of pride, you will be a mare.”

This soothing discourse would be followed, when it was required, with Ilse’s strong hands steadying the young woman in place and ramming the horse shaft in. Sometimes, Ilse knew, it was better to do it fast and cut the suffering. There would be time enough for the deflowered girl to recover, that is, if the horse penis did not rupture her.

Yet one flaw sister Ilse did have. Many a time she had gone down to Recife, proudly naked as the Naked Sisters of Mary Magdalene were required to do by their vows, supposedly to stockpile herbs and other supplies. And yes, Ilse had no problems in allowing the horse she led to mount her right in front of the marketplace, where hundreds of Recife’s inhabitants would congregate.

But, you see, usually at that point Sister Ilse was fully inebriated, with chichi or rum for she spent more time in the wharf dives where the astonished sailors would gladly pay her a drink just to see her easily insert a wine bottle up her distended cunt followed by a round of bukkake in which Ilse eagerly participated as the “target”.

Now, a preference towards booze or even getting covered in man seed (penetration by a man was forbidden as was fellatio to the nuns), would not be a sin in the eyes of an order that regularly practiced all kinds of excesses. The problem would be that as Ilse was being fucked in the marketplace by her horse her roving eye would sometimes fall on a lovely looking young woman belonging to any of the bourgeois families of Recife that stood watching her.

Ilse would then stand up after having been pounded by her horse. She would cup her hands to receive the semen dripping out of her huge cunt and then would drink it and rub it into her face and hair. That would not be a matter of concern for anyone for it is what the naked sisters were expected to do.

The problem would be when Ilse would offer the semen to any of the aforementioned young women. In truth, more than one eagerly received the offering as if it were the communion wafer, kneeling and opening her mouth as Ilse poured the horse seed into the young woman’s mouth and then both shared a very sloppy kiss and the promise to show up the next day at the convent to be introduced into the life of a Naked Sister of Mary Magdalene.

Alas, as lustful as were the young women of Recife not all of them reacted that way (some panicked and screamed with disgust when offered the horse semen), for reasons which were beyond Ilse’s ken. Or perhaps the relatives chaperoning the young woman didn’t appreciate it that a large naked blond woman was trying to get their charge to drink horse semen and then would try to steal a kiss.

The constabulary would then be summoned. For Ilse, being rejected by these young women was not a major matter. The world was full of pussy, she felt, and no sane woman would resist a horse penis when offered, she thought. But that men, albeit municipal police, dared to accost her or even forcefully keep her from doing what she felt was natural, seducing young women with the offer of a large penis and jugs of semen, caused Ilse’s blood to boil. And her inebriation would stoke her indignation even more.

And she was large and powerful, a force of nature, indeed. Which meant that it took several of the local Recife police to subject the large inebriated female that was Ilse and throw her in the clink. The first inkling the nuns would have that Ilse was in jail would be when her horse showed up alone at the convent door. And the mother superior, who was then Fiona, would have to trek down to the constabulary to post bail and pay the hospitalization bills of any policemen injured.

Ilse felt very ashamed thereafter, especially having caused undue trouble to Fiona whom she sincerely worshipped and respected.

“I beg you, Mother Superior, please forgive me this transgression,” pleaded Ilse, on her knees.

“We will discuss this when we get back to the convent,” replied Fiona with artificial sternness for she was actually very fond of Ilse.

Perhaps a round of whipping would be the sentence (not a real punishment for all nuns were regularly whipped to increase their pain threshold) or worse, Ilse would be required to clothe herself and not engage in sex with the other nuns for a week. But pretty soon Fiona would let her go around nude again and make love to any other nun or novice. And Ilse kept these privileges…until the next time she fell off the wagon.

Thus when Ilse showed up (clothed as was required) outside the hospital in Bahia having driven the order’s large Packard there she insisted in taking care personally of Fiona who was being carried out like an infant by Renate.

“Milady Fiona must be safe during this trip,” announced Ilse. “I made sure the back seat is full of pillows so that if I hit a cow she won’t get hurt.”

“She will be smothered most likely you Boche slut!” said Renate giggling as she kissed Ilse fully on the lips and handed her Fiona.

“Ah, you French skanky slut will drive in the front seat with me,” replied Ilse kissing Fiona, “but do keep an eye on milady at all times! Don’t’ worry, milady, I will make sure you arrive safely at the convent.”

“Oh, that I am sure, Ilse,” answered Fiona smiling.

“Do you have the flesh?” asked Ilse.

“Ohmigod, yes, there,” said Renate pointing to an ice chest two hospital attendants were putting into the . “I am not sure this is legal or even ethical.”

“Renate, we talked about this already,” scowled Fiona. “Don’t embarrass me any more.”

“I know places along the way where we can get more ice, milady,” said Ilse as she secured Fiona in the back seat.

“I should be OK back here then,” said Fiona. “I am just a bit thirsty.”

“I have what milady Fiona needs!” announced Ilse raising her habit and exposing a large breast. “My milk is creamy and rich and it will heal milady!”

Ilse then sat in the backseat holding the abbreviated Fiona who smiled and eagerly sucked at the nipple offered her. Then nuns regularly suckled each other breasts because one of the effects of the yerba dura was to induce lactation.

“Please drive on, Renate,” said Ilse throwing her the keys, “while I nurse milady.”

Renate shook her head and started the car. Behind her were noises of sucking and delight.

“Did it rain all the way here?” asked Renate after a while.

“Yes, but I think the monsoon is now breaking,” replied Ilse who was caressing Fiona and pushing her other nipple into the limbless woman’s mouth. “The roads are hideous past San Anselmo.”

“Well, I don’t know about you but no one has sucked my tits for days,” announced Renate.

“Didn’t milady feed on you?” asked Ilse.

“We never had enough privacy,” explained Renate.

“Oh Jesus!” gasped Ilse sincerely astounded. “How long since you have been fucked by a horse?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Renate, “maybe four months, ever since we came to Bahia to have Ilse torsified.”

“That is bad,” said Ilse. “Rule of thumb is that if you go more than six months without being fucked by a horse you die.”

“How so?” asked Renate.

Fiona had finished and explained:

“It is called yerba dura withdrawal. You swell and blow up and start bleeding all over and die with a lot of pain. It is not a pretty sight.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” asked Renate with some indignation. “Now I am a yerba dura addict and can’t wean myself out of it then.” Unconsciously she looked at herself in the rearview mirror to detect any signs of swelling.

“Why would you?” asked Fiona mystified. “As long as a horse keeps coating our innards with yerba dura laden semen we will be fine.”

“Don’t worry, milady,” said Ilse pushing a nipple into Fiona’s eager mouth. “My milk is full of yerba dura I absorbed from the horse semen through the lining of my cunny.”

After a while Renate could not stand more. She pulled over into a glen next to a river.

“Enough you two!” announced Renate pulling over her habit and offering her breasts to the two women in the back seat. “My breasts are about to explode.”

“Then come here,” said Fiona. “We will take care of that.”

Two days later the Packard managed to arrive in front of the convent in Recife. As soon as Renate stepped out she pulled eagerly off her habit. Ilse did likewise on herself and the limbless Fiona. The convent’s door opened as they were expected.

“Thank God!” said Renate with relief. “I would not stand being clothed another hour. Now, I really, really need to be fucked by a horse, hard.”

“Oh Jesus, me too,” added Fiona.

“I can help you, milady,” replied Ilse, “though we will have to be careful with you.”

“Do whatever is needed,” said Fiona with some urgency, “but just get a horse inside me. I need it.”

 

Continued on the next page (link below).

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