Pagan

Warning; this story has incest content.

"I would weave strong magic for protection,
Deep magic to bind and chasten."

(Chant to Feyja)

A hand touched his arm and a voice said, "Hello Richard."

He turned to see an exceedingly striking woman wearing, in marked contrast to the somber attire of those around them, a silver coloured dress that stretched from neck to ankles.

For a few moments he didn't recognize her and seeing his puzzled look she laughed saying, "Oh dear, you don't recognize me do you?"

"No...er...yes....I..."

"Pagan." She laughed again; "Your aunt Pagan."

"Pagan! My God you've..."

"Changed? Of course I have and so have you.

"Yes, I suppose we have, but you look so different. You used to be...to be..."

"Go on say it, skinny, all arms and legs, and you were a chubby little boy."

Her demeanor changed, "A sad occasion for us to meet again."

"Mmm, there aren't many of grandfather's generation left now. See that group over there; they're what grandfather used to call 'The Dunkirkers.'"

"Yes, he was with the Guards and they were among the last to get away."

Richard grinned, "Yes, they used to meet once every year and have a drink."

"A booze-up you mean," Pagan chuckled. "It looks as if they're going to have one today, are you going to the wake?"

"Yes."

"Look, I'd better go and talk to some of the other relatives, but suppose we catch up later. It's been years since we last saw each other; we should have a few things to talk about."

"I'd like that Pagan, where shall we meet."

"I'm staying overnight at a motel, suppose we go there and have a talk, have you got a car?"

"No, I can't afford one, and mum and dad can't afford..."

"That's all right; I can drive you after the wake, I've hired a car while I'm in town and I can take you home when we've had our talk. Don't get drunk with the Dunkirkers."

"No," Richard grinned as Pagan left him to do her catching up with other relatives.

* * * * * * * *

Richard's memories of Pagan were of a girl he had thought very grown up, but unlike the other grownups in the family she took a lot of notice of him.

Once when he was about five years of age, he went with his parents and Pagan, and spent a fortnight at the beach. She had taught him to swim, or more accurately, how to splash and stay afloat. She built sandcastles with him and took him for walks along the beach, and together they hunted among rock pools for crabs and shrimps.

This was the occasion when for the first time Richard saw a naked female. They had hired a beach bathing hut and it was used to change for swimming. Pagan, lacking in modesty, stripped off in front of Richard.

He was only five years of age at the time so he had no prurient interest in this rather skinny girl. He was however curious about her lack of what his mother called, "A dicky," and the little clump of hair and a sort of groove where her dicky should have been. The sweet buds of her young breasts with their tender pink nipples he noticed, but they made no impression on him except he wondered why his weren't like that.

She saw him gazing at her and asked, "Do you think I look pretty?"

He loved Pagan and so according to his childlike view of "pretty," she was pretty, so he replied, "Yes, and we're going to be a mummy and daddy."

That being interpreted by Pagan as they were going to be married, she decided that the reasons why they could not be a "mummy and daddy" were too complicated to explain to him at his age.

Instead she had smiled and hugged him to her slender naked body murmuring, "That was a lovely thing to say, Richard."

His little body was naked and he felt the touch of her nakedness against him, his cheek resting against one of her burgeoning breasts and inhaled the rose scented fragrance of her skin, and this had lodged in his memory and had stayed there ever since.

When he had first become consciously aware of Pagan her name had been Peggy. It was when she was thirteen and had read a book about old Scandinavian gods that she declared herself to be a devotee of Freyja because she was the most beautiful of the goddesses, and that she, Peggy, was going to be just like her.

The family, who were inclined to be church going people, had said she was a pagan, and the appellation had stuck. Peggy said she liked the name "Pagan," and so "Pagan" she became thereafter.

She had married very young. This came about when in search of a birthday present for her mother she had seen a brooch in the window of an antique shop. On asking about the price she had been stunned by the answer.

The shop owner, Mr. Paul Wendell, had tried to explain why antiques cost so much, and Pagan had been fascinated.

Seeing her interest Paul Wendell asked her if she'd like to work for him part time. She, and then her parents, agreed, "Just so long as it doesn't interfere with her studies." And so Pagan had started working for Mr. Wendell on Saturdays.

Mr. Wendell was an efficient business man not lacking money. In his early fifties, of somewhat noble appearance, he was a widower.

An astute young woman, and not lacking in affection for her employer, Pagan had eventually allowed him to deflower her on a rather elegant eighteenth century bed he had in stock. At his age Paul should have been more astute and used a condom, but since he didn't, the fertile young Pagan was soon announcing herself to be pregnant.

The family was horrified, but was placated when Paul declared that he would marry Pagan.

Here the story becomes hazy. Was Pagan pregnant or did she just think she was pregnant; or had she been calculating and trapped Paul into marriage? Whatever the case a little way into the marriage she had to announce that it had been a false pregnancy.

Some men might have baulked at this, but not Paul. He had got himself an exceedingly attractive and young bride and was in no hurry to send her on her way. In addition he had discovered soon after their first sexual union that he had unleashed a sexual tigress that was willing to engage in some interesting bedtime experiments.

Paul was no longer at the peak of his potency, but he did his best to keep up with Pagan's bedtime demands, and if he fell short in this respect, Pagan was content to deal with any residual libido via a vibrator, during which performance Paul was happy to watch.

Whether Pagan had trapped Paul into marriage with a purely pecuniary objective in mind or not, she proved to be a good and faithful wife. The cynical might object that she was such because she had her long term interests in mind, and since it was highly likely that Paul would pre-decease her by many years she would then be able to play the merry widow.

In many such situations the elderly and wealthy partner, whether male or female, will often frustrate the younger partner by living on into extreme old age. Paul was more obliging. He went to that Great Antique Shop in the Sky seven years after marrying Pagan.

It might be thought that Pagan's sexual demands on Paul had brought about his early demise. There might be some truth in this, in that it might have exacerbated an undiagnosed heart problem, which was in fact what carried him off from this vale of tears.

Whether or not it was Pagan's sexual energy that sent Paul into eternity, she found herself the owner of an antique shop and considerable additional financial assets.

It was, however, not her ambition to run an antique business. She was one of those city dwellers who romanticize rural life. Consequently she sold the antique business and bought herself a three hectare rural property about fifty kilometres from the city.

This property had once been part of a dairy farm. On the farmer deciding to retire the farm had been sold off in various sized blocks. Pagan bought the block with the old farmhouse on it, together with various outbuildings.

The property had been much neglected and Pagan had lots of work to do on it, and for several years she virtually disappeared from the orbit of the family, only to resurface at her father's (Richard's Grandfather's) funeral.

* * * * * * * *

The wake over, Pagan drove a sober Richard to her motel for a long overdue catch-up session. Pagan began with enquiries about what had happened in Richard's life, and he told her he was, at the behest of his parents, studying law at the university. His manner of relating this suggested a lack of eagerness for this course of studies and Pagan commented, "You don't sound too enthusiastic."

"I'm not," Richard said bluntly, "I hate the bloody law, but I don't know what I do want to do."

Pagan seemed to let the matter pass and went on to talk about her activities in her rural retreat. This included the running of a number of horses, hired out to people, mainly teenage girls, who liked to be bounced up and down (I've often wondered about the fondness of young girls for being jounced on the back of a horse).

The originally projected chickens, sheep, one goat (to keep the grass and weeds down) and vegetable garden had become reality, and Pagan ended by saying enthusiastically, "You should see it, why not come and spend some time with me?"

Being a city boy, and despite his one time affection for Pagan, Richard was not certain that he wanted to spend time in the countryside so he prevaricated.

"Well, I can't get away until the short vacation."

Pagan seemed to be up with the university breaks and so she replied, "You've got a fortnight's vacation coming up soon, why not make it then?"

"But how would I get there, I don't have a car?"

"It's not the other side of the universe, Richard," Pagan protested. "There's a bus that runs to and from the city every day. It would drop you at Bungaloo and I'd pick you up there; after that it's only a five minute drive to my place."

Richard seemed to run out of reasons why he couldn't visit, unless of course he said outright, "I don't want to visit," which for reasons of politeness and memories of the affection that had once existed between them, he didn't want to do. Besides, he had begun to realize that Pagan was a very decorative and amusing female and Richard felt that it would not be a hardship to spend time with her.

So it was agreed that he should spend the upcoming vacation with her. This done it was time for Pagan to drive Richard home. On leaving the motel they passed the manager who gave them a salacious leer.

Richard felt somewhat embarrassed by the leer, but it occurred to him that a young man in an attractive woman's motel room might well imply that a little sexual conviviality had taken place. He silently concluded that if Pagan hadn't been his aunt he might well have sought that conviviality, especially since attractive females in motel rooms did not normally come his way.

"It's a pity I wasn't older when she stripped off in the beach hut," he thought, "I might have taken a bit more notice."

On arriving at his house Pagan elected not to come in, saying she had some shopping to do in the city.

"I need some special galvanized bolts and a few other things that I can't get in Bungaloo," she explained.

"Galvanized bolts" sounded somewhat mundane to Richard and did not seem to harmonize with the fair Pagan, but the idea of a fortnight with her was sweetened by the rather un-auntly kiss she administered as he left her.

* * * * * * * *

So it was that at seven o'clock one Monday morning Richard climbed aboard the Bungaloo bound bus. It felt its way through the mounting rush hour traffic, and then with a sudden spurt of energy speeded up beyond the outer suburbs. Then it reached the hills and with much automatic gear changing and howling from the diesel motor it wound its laborious way round the interminable bends.

On the way it dropped off and picked up people, not at any regular bus stops, but just where people happened to be waiting or wanted to get off. Finally they left the big hills behind, and amid the now low rolling green hills beyond and a straight road, the bus once again became energized and raced towards Bungaloo and the waiting Pagan.

Arriving at what passed for the main shopping area – a combined post office and general store, a pub, church and a police station with a few scattered houses – the bus seemed to sigh with relief.

There smiling was Pagan, but not exactly Pagan as she had been at the funeral. No longer clad in a silver garment, she was dressed in a filmy green dress that reached to her ankles and flattered her long chestnut colored hair. It left one delightful shoulder exposed while on the other shoulder the dress was caught up by a large brooch in the shape of a five pointed star.

The dress, that seemed singularly inappropriate for country wear, revealed a slim figure with unbridled breasts clearly visible. It not only riveted Richard's attention, but that of a couple of men who had also alighted from the bus.

Richard heard one of the men whisper to the other, "My God, she's some looker," and when Pagan greeted Richard saying, "It's lovely to have you here," and gave him another less than auntly kiss, the other man commented, "I could do with some of that myself, the lucky bastard."

Richard's luggage was taken from the underbelly of the bus, and somewhat mesmerized he followed the newly revealed Pagan, not to the rather expensive car she had been driving when he last saw her, but to a small pickup truck that smelt of manure.

The bus returned to halfhearted life, sighed, and then howled and whined its way out of Bungaloo.

Unlike the bus, under the guidance of Pagan the truck demonstrated a surprising alacrity as it was sent hurtling towards Pagan's domain, at which they arrived, not in the five minutes Pagan had originally specified, but in just over four minutes.

Even before actually entering the drive to the house, it was obvious that work had been carried out.

A new white five bar gate with statues on pedestals both sides and a notice bearing the title, "Sessrumnir. Pagan Wendell." The statues were undoubtedly eye-catching in that they both portrayed women, naked to the waist apart from a necklace, their lower bodies swathed in linen and each having a cat curled up at her feet.

"What...who...who are the statues of?" Richard asked.

"Ah yes," Pagan chuckled, "I get asked that question a lot. They're representations of Freyja."

Richard had forgotten that Pagan had got her name because she had once claimed to be a devotee of the Scandinavian goddess, and now seeing what a sexy image the goddess had, he decided he'd have to learn more about her.

He was told to open the gate and close it after Pagan had driven through.

"Don't want the sheep getting out," she explained.

As they went along the drive Richard noticed there were about a dozen undressed looking sheep idling their time away.

Richard commented on their semi-nudity and Pagan replied, "Had them shorn recently, get a bit of money for the wool. Might learn to shear and do them myself; I don't suppose you know how to shear?"

"Er...no..." Richard replied.

"Thought not," Pagan said, and then added, "I'll find you a few jobs you can do."

This announcement came as a bit of a shock to Richard. He had visualized basking in the peaceful rural atmosphere, or at most, communing with nature. The reference to "a few jobs" altered the serene image somewhat.

If the gate and statues had been a prelude witnessing to change, the house was a solid affirmation of transformation.

The colour scheme was to Richard's eyes rather unusual, being red, black and green with silver trimmings; still he had to admit it was effective if a little over dramatic.

The drama was added to when on alighting from the truck a barking, snarling, Border Collie came hurtling round the corner of the house, its apparent fury aimed at Richard. Richard made an attempt to scramble back into the truck but before he succeeded the dog was upon him and fawning at his feet.

"That's Sif," Pagan announced, "I should have warned you about her. She always creates a commotion when people arrive, and then as soon as she gets to them she rolls over; she likes her tummy tickled.

Richard duly did some tentative tummy tickling and later discovered he had made a friend, apparently for life, because thereafter Sif followed him everywhere.

"Let's get your things inside and I'll show you your bedroom," Pagan said.

The inside of the house was a little more muted in its décor, the predominating colours being green and cream. The furniture was particularly elegant, consisting of items that Pagan had taken from the antique shop before she sold it.

Richard's room was furnished in some dark grained wood and the bed, after bouncing on it a few of times, he found it to be comfortable.

The kitchen, as Richard was to discover, was the place of much living and activity. It too had its share of antiques: a Welsh dresser; farmhouse style table and cottage chairs; but very non-antique were the cooking stove and refrigerator.

"You've obviously had a lot of work done here," Richard commented.

"Did a lot of it myself," Pagan said proudly, "and I've still got work to do on the outbuildings, but then, time isn't so important here, not like the city."

"Especially if you're loaded with money," Richard thought. It was the family belief that after the death of Paul and the sale of the shop Pagan had been well set up financially. Richard decided it would be diplomatic to keep this thought to himself.

"Much too early for lunch," Pagan declared, "but do you fancy a cup of tea or coffee?"

"Ah...er...yes," Richard replied, sitting at the table with Sif planting her self almost on his feet.

"Good, I fancy a cup myself; tea?"

"Yes thanks."

As Pagan set about tea making a tabby cat entered the kitchen from somewhere in the house. It began to purr and twine itself round Pagan's legs.

"This is Odin," Pagan declared. "He doesn't like his tummy tickled so I suggest you don't try it, unless of course you're masochistic and enjoy having your hand nearly bitten off."

The cat and dog seemed to have a mutual agreement to ignore each other. Richard on the other hand, was unable to ignore Pagan. From the pretty, but not to his eyes unusual young woman he remembered, she seemed to have changed into a deliciously seductive mature woman with an air of magic about her.

She seemed to him to be especially delectable since her dress gave him such an alluring view of what it didn't quite hide.

With her slender figure, long legs and undoubtedly delightful mammary hemispheres, (much developed since their revelation in the bathing hut), he believed he now understood why the early Christian hermit monks feared females. Pagan was enough to make the most committed celibate break his vow of chastity.

To add to the devastating effect of her figure, she had gorgeous chestnut hair that fell almost to her waist. Her forehead was perhaps a trifle too broad, her nose a little like a child's, being too short to match her sensuous lips. Her almost swanlike neck seemed to flow down to her shoulders, and the one bare shoulder showed itself pleasantly plump and rounded.

Richard, not having a monastic vocation, was experiencing the full effects of Pagan's femaleness; the tingling sensation in his groin; a penis that was becoming blood engorged; the both delightful and tormenting desire for a female; in fact those sensations that have, for good or ill, maintained the reproduction of the human species throughout the ages.

Richard knew now why he had at first failed to recognize her at the funeral. He wondered why he had never noted her beauty when he had known her in the past and seen her naked. But then, he had only been a child and there was no doubt she had changed markedly since then.