Unknown - Pony girl

Her flesh tore and she tried to scream but he had his hand over her mouth. Straw, hay, pubic hair all got sucked in to her battered hole as he rammed her again. The first time he had only managed to ram the head of his cock into her vagina. The hymen had held him out.

Now he battered this last defense. She screamed and screamed under his hot hand as now he just rammed and rammed his cock into her fully opened and bleeding hole, seeming to say with each plunge, "I am going to make a woman out of you. You want to know what it's like to be a woman? Here, I'll show you," and he'd ram his shaft into her bleeding vagina again.

When he was through he just stood up and left her lying there. He stood over her again for a moment. He didn't need to threaten her not to tell anyone what had just happened. She knew all his threats by now, even when they were silent.

Then he turned and stalked out of the barn, leaving her alone.

She lay there a long time, crying silently to herself. Was that what lovemaking was like? Was that what her mother suffered every time her parents lay down in their bed? Was this what her mother's frequent screams in the night signified?

Lena wondered if her mother knew where her husband was going when he left the house.

With some straw she wiped the blood away from her thighs. But her hole was still bleeding. She tried to stuff some soft grass up her to stem the bleeding, but it didn't seem to help. She wiped her eyes, and pulled her clothes back on.

Then she went to take the full milk pails around to the kitchen, where she emptied them into the vat. Then she had the rest of her evening chores to do.

She scattered feed to the chickens and then climbed up on the pigsty and threw the pigs their evening swill. Her walk was unbalanced, as if the ripped, torn and bleeding place between her legs had disjointed her legs. She had to walk a little bowlegged. The chickens gabbled at her feet like the Lilliputians around the giant Gulliver. The pigs snorted and rolled over in delight at receiving their slop. She balanced on the fence around their sty and put a hand to her crotch, as if to try to soothe it.

When she turned in to bed that night, she was in still more pain. The bleeding had stopped but the blood was all in clots now, and every time she tossed in her restless dreams, she felt a tearing of flesh around her vagina and she dreamed again and again that she was being raped.

"Good morning, sunshine!"

Lena opened her eyes to bright spring sunshine and the smell of bacon frying in the kitchen. The world seemed bright and beautiful. It was a Saturday and after her chores she would have the day to herself. She was young and she was a woman now – today was the second day of her first period. These were the first thoughts to run through her head.

She swung her legs off the cot.

"Ohhhhhhh!" she stopped short as the ripping pain between her legs brought back the most brutal memory of yesterday.

"What did you say, honey?" called her mother's voice from the kitchen.

"Nothing!" she called back. Slowly she raised her flannel nightie and surveyed the damage. Her menstrual flow was all over her thighs as well as some additional bleeding that had started up in the night from the torn membrane of her virginity. She cleaned herself up sadly, and very gently inserted a Kotex up her raw vagina.

She showered and got dressed, dreading to see her father again.

But her mother had good news for her.

"Your father left early this morning. He went in to town and he'll be away all day, until supper."

Lena said nothing. She sat down at the place her mother had fixed for her and hungrily devoured the eggs and bacon and biscuits. She and her mother never discussed her father, but there was an unacknowledged understanding between them, that mother and daughter were allies against the stern man. As allies, they were both helpless, but the flow of sympathy between them was strong, if unspoken, when, after he had abused mother or daughter with his blows, he left them alone to each other.

"What did he go to town for?" Lena asked sullenly.

"He went to see about Joe King's bull. He wants to mate it with our cows," said Mrs. Hanson. She had been a pretty woman in her youth, with long blonde hair and a creamy complexion that Lena, her daughter, had inherited.

But Mara Hanson, though all of 39 years old, was only a faded image of her former pretty self. Years of hard farm work, and her husband's contempt and brutality had made her blonde hair grey, and her face worn and anxious looking. She had brought five children into the world. One, the oldest, a son, had been born stillborn. Two had died in infancy. Then Clark and Lena had come. A sixth baby, unknown to her husband, had died under a local midwife's hand, in a barn. Mrs. Hanson's body, under her thin housedress, reminded Lena of an old cow that has birthed too many calves and has no milk to give any more.

"Did you sleep well, my darling?" asked her mother.

"No, Mom," Lena confessed.

"You know you shouldn't let what your father said last night worry you too much. He seems harsh but he only has your best interests at heart," said the self-deluding woman, scrubbing the greasy skillet at the sink.

"Mom, come sit down for a minute," said Lena. The night before she had left the house in the middle of her parents' argument about her.

When she had discovered her period yesterday afternoon, she had told her mother about it. Her mother had told her father. That night her father began laying down the rules of her new life, at dinner.

"You will not leave this farm unaccompanied by your mother or myself," he said forking a slab of roast beef into his mouth. "You will not let yourself be alone with any of the boys at school," he continued sloshing up the gravy on his plate with a hunk of bread.

"Roland, I think we can trust the girl a little bit. She's only twelve, after all. She doesn't have such thoughts on her mind yet."

"They're never too young for such thoughts," spat out her father. "I won't have any pulling bastard babies sitting at my table. If I ever find you with your legs open to any of the stupid yokels around here so help me I'll…" the thought made him so angry he choked on the meat in his throat and at his inability to find words harsh enough to explain what he would do to her, if he ever found her in the positions of love.

"Momma, why did you telL him, about my period, I mean," Lena took her mother by the hand and made her sit down at the table.

"Well, he's your father, I thought he should know that his little daughter is a woman now. In my day, when a girl had her first bleeding, her mother and her grandmother slapped her on the face and then kissed her and there was a big celebration. It was an occasion of celebration," she said sadly and the vague look that came into her eyes more and more often now, crept in.

Lena shook her mother's hand to bring her back. "What was it like in those days, when you were a girl?" she asked.

"Oh honey, you know I've told you all about it many times."

"Yes, but tell me again."

Lena came over and sat in her mother's lap and her mother stroked her hair as if she were a little girl still and began reciting, "In those days we were a huge family. Grandmothers and grandfathers, aunts and uncles, cousins – oh my! – the cousins. And for every holiday we'd all get together, at one of the sisters' or brothers' houses, and all the women would start cooking and all the men would be smoking and talking, or playing games, horseshoes the older men would play, while all the children would be a'playing together, and getting into trouble. My, the fine times we had," she sighed.

"And what happened when you grew up?" asked Lena, snuggling against her mother's breasts.

"Well, then the beaus came. One by one, all the sisters of all the branches of the family married off. The young men would come a'calling on 'em, and end up leading them off to the church. And my turn came, and I went like the rest of them."