"How's my Cunnywetbum doing this week? Have you become one with nature yet?"
She glared at him from the ground. She didn't know what was worse - that he had her name legally changed from Jennifer Redbrook to Cunnawabum, or that even her new name wasn't enough for him. He had to make it more insulting, from a suggestive but respectable throwback to something explicitly degrading.
As a proud Cree woman, she loved her ancestral lands. She fought tooth and nail to protect them from government overreach and big business alike. If a bill entered the House to fund a pipeline, she showed up with her posterboards and pithy chants to protest. If a company rolled up to clear some woods, she perched herself in the biggest, tallest tree and refused to budge. Nothing they did could stop her... until one man found the perfect answer. Turn her pride against her.
One hastily read, sloppily signed 'treaty' later, and Dave had Cunnywetbum locked in for one amazing spectacle. The terms were simple and like always from a white man, too good to be true. All she had to do was live on the land like her ancestors. What she didn't think of was how literal the high-priced lawyers at Timber Wolf Timber would make those words out to be. Or how easily the courts agreed with them.
And that was how, a whole two months later, Cunnywetbum laid nude in the sun with nothing but braids, earrings, and a bunch of feathers on her person. The warm rock kept her breasts warm, as chilly Fall wind chapped her ass.
"What do you think?" Cunnywetbum snapped. "It's cold, there's no one else for miles, you have cameras all over the place streaming me, and to top it off, you're here."
"If you don't like it, you can always break the treaty."
She shook her head. "Nuh-uh, no way. I've put up with too much already to give up now."
"In that case, you won't mind performing a little ritual dance for your viewers. It's that time of the season, you know."
Her incredulous expression as he shoved the slip of paper in front of her was priceless. It may have come from some cheap debunked rag from the early 1900s, but Cunnywetbum didn't need to know that. Nor would she find out, without a computer or phone to look it up. She could only gawk at the instructions, back to him, back to the instructions and wonder if it was all bullshit. Then accept it, because if she didn't...
"Fine," she said with a loud sigh and got up. "Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!"
As she spun, shook her tits, twerked her ass and rubbed her pussy for the cameras, Dave pondered what else he could trick dumb little Cunnywetbum into doing.
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"How's my Cunnywetbum doing this week? Have you become one with nature yet?"
She glared at him from the ground. She didn't know what was worse - that he had her name legally changed from Jennifer Redbrook to Cunnawabum, or that even her new name wasn't enough for him. He had to make it more insulting, from a suggestive but respectable throwback to something explicitly degrading.
As a proud Cree woman, she loved her ancestral lands. She fought tooth and nail to protect them from government overreach and big business alike. If a bill entered the House to fund a pipeline, she showed up with her posterboards and pithy chants to protest. If a company rolled up to clear some woods, she perched herself in the biggest, tallest tree and refused to budge. Nothing they did could stop her... until one man found the perfect answer. Turn her pride against her.
One hastily read, sloppily signed 'treaty' later, and Dave had Cunnywetbum locked in for one amazing spectacle. The terms were simple and like always from a white man, too good to be true. All she had to do was live on the land like her ancestors. What she didn't think of was how literal the high-priced lawyers at Timber Wolf Timber would make those words out to be. Or how easily the courts agreed with them.
And that was how, a whole two months later, Cunnywetbum laid nude in the sun with nothing but braids, earrings, and a bunch of feathers on her person. The warm rock kept her breasts warm, as chilly Fall wind chapped her ass.
"What do you think?" Cunnywetbum snapped. "It's cold, there's no one else for miles, you have cameras all over the place streaming me, and to top it off, you're here."
"If you don't like it, you can always break the treaty."
She shook her head. "Nuh-uh, no way. I've put up with too much already to give up now."
"In that case, you won't mind performing a little ritual dance for your viewers. It's that time of the season, you know."
Her incredulous expression as he shoved the slip of paper in front of her was priceless. It may have come from some cheap debunked rag from the early 1900s, but Cunnywetbum didn't need to know that. Nor would she find out, without a computer or phone to look it up. She could only gawk at the instructions, back to him, back to the instructions and wonder if it was all bullshit. Then accept it, because if she didn't...
"Fine," she said with a loud sigh and got up. "Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!"
As she spun, shook her tits, twerked her ass and rubbed her pussy for the cameras, Dave pondered what else he could trick dumb little Cunnywetbum into doing.