Sonja the Rescuer by Seldom (seldomlasts@yahoo.com) John is kidnapped. Blood, gore, senseless and excessive violence. ***** AUTHOR'S NOTE ***** This is the second Sonja story I have written. I enjoy writing these stories and I hope you enjoy reading them. If you do, please send me an e-mail to let me know. Stroke my fragile ego. Many thanks to those of you who sent your suggestions for this installment. * * * * * The giant redhead barely glanced up as John came panting over the rocks. He saw her equipment lying on the ground and collapsed. A ghost of a grin crossed Sonja's face for a fleeting second. She turned away and began collecting firewood, quickly building a large campfire. She left it unlit and went to kneel beside John. The small boy felt her imposing presence next to him and opened his eyes. He saw her looking down at him and instantly scrabbled to his knees, bowing to his mistress. She reached down and put a finger under his bowed head, lifting his chin to look up at her. He trembled at her touch. Her hands were streaked with blood from George's horrible death. Sonja ran rough fingers over John's pretty-boy features, trailing her thumb slowly over his shivering lips. She brought her large head down to his and pressed her thick moist lips against his forehead. She extended her long tongue and licked him. The powerful movement of her unstoppable tongue forced his head back and left a trail of saliva on his face. John made no move to wipe it up. The giant redhead lifted her armor-plated battle-skirt, revealing her dripping pussy, damp and sweaty after a day of traveling. With one muscular arm she easily pulled his head into her enormous crotch. Not clean and cool like last night, now her pussy was wet, musky, sweaty, and hot. John, scared and shaking, put his hands on her giant genitalia and rubbed. Sonja grinned and relaxed, letting John please her with his hands and tongue for an hour. Whenever he tired and slowed, she squeezed his head warningly. Each time she squeezed he renewed his licking in a terrified frenzy, knowing she could easily crush his skull with one hand. After an hour she released him from the hot confines of her pussy and lit the fire. John knelt before her, his face covered in her sweat and sticky cum. She ignored her slave as she turned to prepare supper. "Please, Mistress Sonja, let me prepare your dinner," John said in a trembling, frightened voice. He knew it was presumptuous of him to speak without being spoken to, but he had not heard his mistress utter one word. As far as he knew, from legends and rumours, no one had ever heard her speak. Sonja turned to her slave in surprise, one red eyebrow raised. "That is, if you want me to," John said in barely a whisper. Sonja nodded curtly and settled her huge bulk next to the fire, content to watch the sunset while John cooked dinner from the deer Sonja had skewered during the day. It had been magnificent. Sonja spotted the deer grazing several hundred yards away and had put up her hand. John instantly stopped. She drew her sword and charged, legs as long as a man was tall carrying her faster than any mere mortal. Even the deer could not hope to outrun her. It tried to dodge but Sonja was faster, whirling her giant body around with impossible speed and grace and neatly piercing the animal through the head. John thought about all he had seen in the last day as he skinned the carcass. He held his mistress in awe, totally frightened of her yet completely devoted to her. She had not shown the least bit of malice or sadism toward him, as the tales suggested she might. Nor had she shown any warmth or compassion, either. He thought she must be a goddess, or at the very least a demigod, to hold those below her in such disregard. After he managed to get the large animal roasting over the bonfire, Sonja finally stood. She reached into her belt and withdrew a long blade. It looked like a knife in her hands, so it took John a moment to recognize it as a sword. She held it out to him. He took it, looking at her with a confused expression. She held up her hand and gestured for him to swipe at it. He stared at her in confusion. She gestured again. "No, I can't do that," John said in a scared voice. Sonja roared and roughly cuffed John, knocking him flying several feet until he smashed into the ground. He felt like he'd just been hit by a battering ram. She stalked over to him angrily and he shrunk from her displeased glare, sure she would crush the life out of him. Instead she yanked the sword out of his hand and, holding the hilt in one hand, rammed the point into her open palm. The sword bowed briefly before shattering. John gasped. Sonja looked down at him, the anger leaving her face to be replaced with something like humor. She helped her slave to his feet and offered him another sword. She had them placed like daggers around her waist. This time when she gestured at her hand John took a weak swing at it. The blade bounced off her fingers. Sonja smiled fiercely down at John. She gestured for him to attack again, and again. She had him lunge at her hand, hitting specific fingers, then swipe at it in various patterns. John's arms ached from the day's hard journey and from holding the heavy sword, but he dared not quit for fear of angering his mistress again. His arms trembled with fatigue as she goaded him into attacking her hand over and over. Finally he could not even lift the sword and collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. Sonja handed him a leg of venison which he gratefully accepted and ate. She finished the rest of the deer and put out the fire with her bare foot. She lay down and gestured for John to join her. She let him curl up with her arm around him and they fell asleep. * * * * * John woke before the sun rose. He carefully escaped Sonja's warm muscular embrace and stretched, surprised to find that despite yesterday's exertions he felt awake and fully rested. He looked at his sleeping mistress. She was voluptuous and beautiful and terrifying, covered with enormous steely muscles and with a reputation for unmatched brutality. But ignoring her body (not easy to do, considering its sheer size), her face was actually quite lovely. He was mesmerized by the almost gentle sight of her pretty oversized face as she quietly breathed. With her eyes closed her expression softened, no longer challenging and fierce, but peaceful. John crept up to her face and placed one trembling hand on her cheek, an awed worshipful expression on his face. Sonja muttered something unintelligable and nuzzled John's hand with her cheek before rolling away from him. The small servant-boy checked his meager savings and thought he had just enough for what he planned to do. He had worked in an inn, had heard the moans emanating from behind closed doors, had even watched once or twice. He knew what it looked like to please a woman, and knew he was missing something with Sonja. He was totally devoted to her and wanted to please her in any way he could. Twice now she had played with him and he had tried to give her something in return. The first time he had massaged her with hot oils and slow devotion, and she seemed to appreciate it. Now he wanted to give her something more. He had also seen men come and go with prostitutes, and though only thirteen, he knew what was going on. He was determined to find out what he was doing wrong. So, trembling, fearful of what Sonja would do to him if she caught him, knowing she might kill him upon his return, yet determined to find out the secret of pleasing her, John set out for the town several miles beyond where they camped. He reached it just as the sun was rising and followed a few furtive men to the town brothel, which was heating up its morning business. The few more attractive young ladies quickly disappeared, but John wasn't looking for them anyway. He finally saw what he was looking for, an older prostitute, who looked bored and weary. "Excuse me," John said hesitantly. The woman squinted down at him and paled. She tried to turn but John caught her arm. "Please, miss," he said. She turned back to him. "Yer Sonja's boy, ain't ye? Ain't touchin' ye, bloody great giant rip me a'two. Git gone wit yer, boy!" she commanded. News travels fast, John thought to himself. "No, wait, please," he said. "I don't want to, um, I just want information. Please," he added earnestly, "I have some money." The old prostitute regarded him warily, her eyes darting between the small number of coins in his bag and his pleading face. "All right, come in, boy, but it be askin and not fuckin or git ye gone!" she finally decided, leading him into her hovel. John followed her in. He touched a faded portrait of a beautiful young woman propped on a worm-eaten dresser. "Who's this?" he asked. The old woman snatched the picture off the dresser and roughly slammed it face down. "That war me as a lass, boy, but no more, no more. Just good for cheap fuckin now, me is. All's a young widow good far, ain't that right, boy?" "N-no, I don't think so," John stuttered. "You were beautiful." The woman snorted. "Fat lot of good it is, beauty. Didn't keep men's hands off me, nor keep me husband alive neither godresthissoul. So ask yer questions and be on yer way boy, ah've got better things for me time than answerin to Sonja's property." "I want to know how to please her," John said in a rush. The old woman cocked her head at him. "Not usually what a man needs wit a whore, boy," she said. She thought for a moment. "Alright, boy, let's see yer money," she finally said. John handed her all the money he'd managed to save during his time as a servant at the inn. The old lady clucked at the small number of coins. "Damn cheap whore, me is," she said disapprovingly. "It's all I have," John said apologetically. She suddenly grinned at him. He shrunk back in fright. "No matter, no matter," she said. "Fuckin's expensive, talkin's cheap. So hear me talk for yer money, boy." She settled herself into a ratty old chair and John did the same. "Well now yer Sonja's a special girly, ain't she," the prostitute mused. "Big lass, that. How big she?" John waved at the ceiling. The old lady grunted. "Tall anyways. Never seen her meself, but hear she all muscly like a man. That right?" "I've never seen a man as muscular as her. And she's definitely a woman," John said indignantly. "Aye some spark in ye!" the woman cackled amusedly. "Ye like the lass! Good for pleasin, the likin is." John blushed. "Pretty boy," she said dreamily, looking at John. "Very pretty, boy. She pretty as you, boy? Ah, quit yer blushin, it's girly. Ain't fit for Sonja's slave, less she likes girls. Eh, does she?" "I, I, I don't know," John admitted. "Well ya ain't no girl, is ye." The wrinkled old prostitute leaned in conspiratorially. "The women, they pays better, they do," she whispered and laughed delightedly at John's discomfort. "Nice as ye are, boy, can't sit around chattin all day. Should teach ya bout a woman, I guess. Ya seen her parts, boy?" she asked. "Yes," John said with a fierce blush. "Good," the woman grunted. "Makes this easier." She pulled her dress off and was suddenly naked. John's eyes widened. "Yeah I'm old," she chuckled, thwacking one sagging breast. "Wot becomes a beauty, eh boy? Anyway," she continued, spreading her legs to reveal a shaven crotch, "this here's wot's called labia." And she walked him through the parts of a woman's body, showing him, urging him to touch, teaching him the ways of pleasing a woman, explaining what was different and what was the same about each woman. He lost track of time as together they explored her genitals, like an old dry miniature of the huge, dripping, fleshy pink parts he had seen on Sonja. The old woman, for her part, forgot that she was an old woman, a wrinkled unsuccessful old prostitute, and enjoyed the company of the pretty boy as he tried to please her with his hands, and, eventually, his tongue. He was not repulsed by her or hesitant, for he saw what he was doing as his duty to his mistress, and he did not hesitate in his duties for Sonja. The brittle wooden door to the little hovel exploded inward and four men in armor entered. John recognized Abrams from the king's court as one of the men roughly grabbed him. Abrams fixed him with a cold sneer. "Arrest the boy, kill the whore," Abrams commanded. The soldier holding the old woman started. "But sir," he protested, "she hasn't committed a crime." Abrams stared at the soldier angrily. "Harboring a fugitive," he finally snarled, plunging his blade into the prostitute's heart. The old woman's eyes turned to John as he stared in horror at the blood spurting from her chest. She looked around in confusion for an instant before her face contorted in agony and she collapsed to the floor. * * * * * Sonja watched the lunch rush from the corner. Tavern customers would enter, stare at her in awe and fright, buy their lunch, and either sit at a table casting furtive glances or hurriedly rush out the door. For her part, Sonja just sat drinking and eating, unconcerned with those around her. She was disappointed when she woke and John was nowhere to be seen. She assumed he ran away. She had no plans to go after him; if he wanted to be free, she saw no reason to stop him. Travelling with her was hard and dangerous; she could understand if he wanted to leave. Sonja noticed a poor half-starved little girl staring hungrily up at her. She paused with a huge sandwich on its way to her waiting mouth. She looked around curiously. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention. She looked down at the girl and grunted quietly. The girl took a step closer. Sonja suddenly grinned at the girl's fearlessness. She tore off a great hunk of bread and handed it to the girl, who took it and instantly began gnawing on it. "You're Sonja, aren't you?" the girl asked between mouthfuls. Sonja nodded. "Is it true that you're a princess?" Sonja nodded again. "My mommy says that princesses live in castles and aren't supposed to go around fighting. But you know what? I think you're great. You're my favorite princess." Sonja cocked her head and stared down at this curious child. No one had been this bold with her in quite a long time. She was used to fear and awe, but very rarely admiration, and rarer still, adoration. "Sarah!" a thin man called out in a frightened voice. The girl turned to him. "Come here! Stop bothering her!" he said, casting terrified glances at Sonja. The little girl turned back to Sonja and looked fearlessly into her deep green eyes. Sonja nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Princess Sonja, I'm Sarah Yates Ingbar. Very nice to meet you," the girl said seriously, curtsying. Sonja held out her hand. The girl placed her hand in Sonja's huge palm, looking up curiously. Sonja dropped a large gold coin into the girl's hand. The girl gasped. The gold could feed her family for a week. All her careful seriousness left her as she squealed delightedly. "Oh thank you Sonja! You'll always be my favorite!" she said, wrapping her thin little arms tightly around Sonja's bulging, thickly muscled forearm. She ran off to her father with the gold coin held in front of her. The father looked at Sonja, but she was gazing at the wall, already off in her own world. As she finished her lunch a young man ran into the tavern. He spotted Sonja and hesitantly approached her, trembling in fear. "S-Sonja?" he asked in a quavering voice. She waited expectantly. "It's Sir Abrams, Miss, he's, well, he's arrested your servant-boy. He took him to the prison in Trabery. He's, he's put out a warrant for your arrest as well. He's gone mad!" It was obvious he didn't want to be the messenger, but the thought of what Sonja or Abrams would do to him and his family if he didn't deliver the threat terrified him more. Running away was one thing, but nobody stole from Sonja. Not for long, anyway. Sonja roared and slammed her huge fist down on the table, shattering the oak tabletop. The frightened messenger fainted as the decimated table rained splinters on him. Sonja stood growling menacingly. Without a backwards or sideways glance she strode out of the tavern in a rage. Her lips twisted in a snarl, betraying her suddenly foul mood. She lifted an old oak table with one hand and tossed it aside. It narrowly missed several scrambling patrons before shattering against a wall. Sonja was mad now, royally pissed off. Thick rippling arms and massive thighs cleared their way through the crowded noon-day streets, huge booted feet kicking aside carts and goods as Sonja flung peasants too slow to stampede out of her way, their bodies slamming against walls with bone-jarring force. She hurled anybody stupid or slow enough to remain in her path until she had a clear shot at the highway. The villagers sobbed and screamed and ran away as she snarled past them. Sonja left the town confused and battered in her wake, a brutal reminder of why it was unwise to irritate her. The town's peasants were relieved they were not the object of her wrath, or the painful and destructive noontime would have been a gory slaughter. The enraged warrior giantess strode determinedly toward Trabery Prison, an old stone fortress constructed in a more prosperous age. The prison was several hours' ride away from the center of Larin. Sonja's tireless legs ate up the distance until she stood before the fortress in the early evening. Her rage was still in full force, blood pounding in her ears, fresh blood dripping down her hands, chest armor, skirt and leggings from unwary soldiers unlucky enough to encounter her on the road. Sonja's superhumanly acute hearing picked up a faint rustling from some nearby bushes. She reached in and pulled out a scout from the prison garrison. He squirmed and screamed out a warning. The monstrous redhead gruesomely silenced him by tearing his throat out. She dropped his twitching body to the ground to slowly bleed to death in horrible agony. The alarm had been raised within the prison. The heavy iron gates slammed down and idling men suddenly became alert. Archers posted at the towers notched arrows. Sonja grinned fiercely and waded into battle. Bows twanged as arrows let fly at the enormous muscular target. Flint and steel tips glanced off her leather armor and tough skin. An arrow embedded itself into her deep cleavage, her massive breasts quivering slightly in response to the harmless impact. Sonja grabbed the fletched end and yanked it out. She looked up at a manned tower and flung the arrow at it. Her tremendous strength propelled the arrow straight through the chest of one bowman and the head of the reloader behind him. The arrow continued sailing far into the air and out of sight. The archer fell out of the tower gurgling blood and splattered onto the ground. Sonja licked her lips and briefly rubbed her dripping crotch with two thick fingers before continuing forward through the hail of useless arrows. The warrior giantess paused before the two-ton steel grate fronting the massive steel-shielded heavy oak gate. The rain of arrows had stopped as the prison guard, fortified with military troops, waited inside, frightened. Sonja reached forward and grasped the grating, enormous muscles leaping from her arms and bulging forearms as she slowly drew her arms apart. Thick jagged veins popped out of her skin as the metal creaked and groaned under the strain. One by one the iron bars stretched and snapped with loud clangs as Sonja wrenched a gaping hole in the grate. Next came the door. She clenched a fist as large as a watermelon and threw a mighty punch at the door. The steel shielding clanged and when she removed her fist there was a huge dent. She punched again. The steel yielded to her flesh and wood splintered. She battered the door again and her fist plowed through the foot-thick door. Sonja barely felt the pricks as men attempted to hack at her fist. Again and again she battered at the door until the splintered wood could no longer support its own weight and collapsed, torn from its hinges. With a delighted roar Sonja charged in and unleashed gory slaughter. She picked up a soldier in each hand and crashed their skulls together, splattering their brains over her huge hands and several other charging soldiers. She picked up a prison guard and simply stuffed him into her massive bosom, letting her heaving breasts and rippling pecs grind his bones to powder as she twisted around and threw three more guards into the stone wall. This time she didn't pull her throws and the men's bodies broke with sickening wet crunches. Sonja dipped her hand into the gory froth in her bosom and licked the blood from her hand, giving the frightened guards a terrifying smile. Archers held their arrows for fear of hitting their charging companions. Sonja flicked daggers with unerring accuracy, pinning each sword-sized dagger neatly through the skull of the remaining archers. Sonja unsheathed her sword and hacked it through four charging men. The blade didn't slow as it cleaved each man in two. One terrified man changed his mind and attempted to run away. Sonja stabbed him through the back. He looked down in horror at the huge blade protruding from his stomach before Sonja lifted the sword. The twitching man slid down the blade until his back rested on its hilt. Sonja grinned and licked his dripping entrails from the blade. She leaned over the gurgling, spasming body and gave his bloody mouth a kiss, shoving her tongue far down his throat and savoring the sweet, salty blood. She was reminded of her hunger from the day of traveling and grabbed a shaking soldier. She bit off his head and chewed his crunchy skull, swallowing it loudly and grinning at the sickened prison guards. She lifted his body and drank from the blood and guts spilling from his neck, squeezing the guts out of his body like a tube of paste. Several men vomited. Sonja brought her sword up, the corpse still resting on its hilt, ready for more battle. "Wait, wait, please wait!" A portly older uniformed man ran from behind a line of prison guards. They tried to stop him but he shook them off and knelt before Sonja. The giant redhead paused and lowered her sword, letting the drained corpse thump to the ground next to the brave man, who paled and swallowed his bile. Sonja moved the tip of her sword under the prostate man's chin and forced him to his feet. He looked far up at her questioning, blood-splattered face. The trembling man spoke. "Mistress Sonja, I am the warden of Trabery Prison. We surrender. Please, we're just prison guards, not soldiers! Abrams and his men are inside! Please let us live!" Sonja pondered for a moment. She raised one eyebrow and gestured at the inner fortress. The warden understood. "Abrams is inside with his prisoner. I'll show you where he is! If that's acceptible to you, I mean," he added hastily. Sonja was vaguely disappointed at having her playtime interrupted but reluctantly nodded and sheathed her sword. Terrified men parted before them as the warden led Sonja into the prison. The warden warned waiting prison guards and soldiers inside that they had surrendered, and should not attack Sonja. She grinned at them as they passed, savoring their terror of her massive gore-dripping body. The warden led them deep into the prison, past pleading prisoners and old servant chambers, down into the interrogation and torture rooms. Two of Abrams' most trusted men guarded one of the rooms. They gasped as they saw the warden leading the huge redhead. "Traitor!" One of them shouted and charged at the warden. He didn't make it two steps before a dagger plunged through his chest and pinned him to the stone wall. Sonja easily dispatched the other guard by crashing her fist down on his helmet. The metal plunged down through his shoulders, her fist crushed his skull and neck with one blow. "Abrams and his prisoner are in here," the warden stammered. Sonja nodded and waved him away. The warden threw himself down at her feet and wrapped his arms around one massive thigh, his fingers not able to touch on the other side. His face pressed against hot hard skin, huge flexing quads rippling against his cheek. "Thank you, thank you for sparing me Sonja," he sobbed, terror and relief overcoming him. Sonja was annoyed at this delay, but oddly touched as well, some long-forgotten part of her still moved by trifling human emotions such as pity and mercy. Instead of merely crushing him for his insolence she let out a warning growl and roughly cuffed him across the ear. The warden cried out as his body flew through the air and into a wall. He collapsed to the floor, unconscious. The heavy wooden door exploded inward as Sonja's fist blasted it to oblivion. The corpses of the two guards followed the door into the room, easily tossed by the gigantic warrior demoness. Sonja strode into the room, her fists clenched and her man-sized biceps bulging with readiness. Abrams laughed nastily. "So you've arrived, hellbitch!" he roared. "Now die!" A huge wooden battering ram crashed into Sonja, crushing her armor and pinning her into the stone wall. Her massive body was embedded a foot or so into the wall. Sonja shook her head to clear it and wrapped her huge arms around the battering ram, easily crushing it to splinters. Abrams paled at this display of raw strength but bravely stood his ground. Sonja let out a brief growl as she ripped the head off the soldier who released the battering ram. She tossed the head at Abrams' feet. His jaw set in grim determination. Sonja's eyes flicked between John and the soldier. John was hoisted in a cage held several feet above a large pit. Abrams' hand rested on the release of the winch holding the cage. Keeping her eyes on Abrams, Sonja walked slowly to the edge of the pit and looked down. Rust-red dried blood covered long sturdy spikes at the bottom of the pit. One movement of Abrams' wrist and John would be impaled on the spikes. John looked at his mistress, his eyes shining in adoration. "Mistress Sonja, I'm sorry," he coughed out. He was badly beaten, his limbs rested at wrong angles and great welts and bruises covered his broken flesh. Sonja's eyes narrowed. "If I can't kill you, at least I can kill your pathetic slave," Abrams spat out. It was obvious he had underestimated Sonja's strength and invulnerability. He had underestimated her speed as well. As his hand yanked down on the lever, Sonja was already diving into the pit. She landed on the spikes, several of which broke under her tremendous weight. She caught John's cage before it was impaled on the spikes and leapt out of the pit. The chains holding the cage snapped and she landed on the edge of the pit. She gently lowered the cage to the ground. Abrams was nearly out the door when Sonja's hand wrapped around his helmet. She lifted him into the air and spun him to face her. She lowered her free hand to her dripping crotch and thrust her fist into herself, covering it in her sweat and pussy juices. She wiped her dripping hand over Abrams' face, marking him as he hissed and snarled in hateful revulsion. He bit her slimy finger and she wiggled it, breaking his teeth. "Someday you'll meet someone stronger than you, and you'll die, bitch," he spat out weakly. Sonja moved her mouth next to his ear. Her hot breath washed over him. She licked his ear and moved her lips over his face, kissing him gently until he became erect in spite of himself. As he realized her complete physical and sexual power over him he wept. She held his gaze with her piercing beautiful green eyes as she kissed him, thrusting her hand into his lower garments and fondling his hard cock with her soft skin. He felt her beautiful eyes burning into him and his mind crumbled before her gaze. "Yes, yes, I'm sorry Sonja, my mistress Sonja!" he cried out as he came all over her hand. Sonja chuckled and thrust a dagger into his shoulder, pinning him against the stone wall. She thrust another dagger into his other shoulder. His eyes glazed over in pain. She held his face steady and brought her hand, dripping with their combined fluids, to his bloody mouth. He lapped at her hand like a puppy and cried, completely broken, hers to toy with. Sonja dug strong fingers into his stomach and tore it open, letting his guts spill to the ground. She turned away and left him to bleed to death. She released John from his cage and gently picked him up, resting his head against her huge pillowy breast and smiling down at him. He struggled to hug her with his broken arms but she shook her head. She leaned down and kissed him. "I think I'm dying," he whispered. "Abrams poisoned me. I'm sorry." Sonja shushed him with her lips and carried him out of Trabery Prison. * * * * * End of Sonja the Rescuer