Disclaimer: The following is purely a work of fiction, and bears no connection to actual persons, living or dead. Although written for entertainment purposes, the author acknowledges that the content would be considered obscene, offensive, and indeed perverted by almost any community standards. The story contains de***********ions of non-consensual sex, torture, murder and cannibalism. The author neither endorses nor approves any of these practices and indeed actively opposes any real-life enactment of the themes described in this fiction. While some may find the stories erotic (that ‘s why they were written), the author strongly believes that the proper place for the acts described is strictly limited to the imagination.
Jennifer swung her arms to loosen up and jogged in place to warm up her legs. Part of her mind refused to believe what was happening; along with four other women she was to be the ‘prey’ in some sort of twisted hunt organized by a sick, but obviously very powerful group of people. A week ago she had been jogging alone on a deserted beach near her home on the coast when four men had jumped from an unmarked van and kidnapped her. She had been well fed in the days since, but this morning she had been stripped naked and brought to this field, where she had met her fellow victims for the first time. A man who called himself “Huntmaster James” had explained to them the ‘rules:’ they would be given a fifteen minute head start before the ten ‘hunters’ would set out after them. If the ‘prey’ could reach the edge of the estate (which was said to be about fifty square miles in size), she would be free. James did not explain what would happen if the ‘prey’ was caught, but the razor tips of the arrows and cross-bow bolts Jen could see the Hunters preparing left little doubt in her mind that the ‘hunt’ was a life-or-death game.
As absurd as the whole situation seemed, Jen’s practical side recognized that her captors were deadly serious and accepted that her best hope of escape was to play along with the game and try to get off of the estate. She had no illusions that the hunters would simply let her go if she reached the edge – there was no way they would allow her free to accuse them of kidnapping and attempted murder – but if she could get away there was some hope that she could find someone outside who could help her. Jen knew she was in good condition and believed she had the strength to get away. Turning to face the crowd so that she would not expose her sex to the spectators, Jen continued to stretch, spreading her legs and touching her nose to her left, and then right knee. After a week in confinement it would be important for her to be loose if she was to have a hope of getting away.
Still stretching, Jen looked over the party-like setting. Tents and tables had been set up for a crowd of some fifty-odd people, who seemed to be behaving as if they were at a grand picnic in the country. Most of them were men, although Jen did see maybe a half-dozen women in the group. The ‘hunters’ mingled in a small pavilion set near the roped-off start line, tuning their high-power bows and cross-bows, and checking that the razor tips to their arrows were secure on the shafts. One hunter who didn’t seem to have a weapon was swinging and stretching his arms as though getting ready to throw something. All of the hunters wore tough leather or denim clothing and sturdy-looking boots. Jen felt confident that she could outrun any of them, although she was a little concerned what kind of brush she might have to force her way through in her nakedness.
Jen considered her fellow prisoners. All of them young women, all of them shapely, none of them struck her as particularly athletic. Two seemed rather soft, almost verging on the plump side. The other two were quite trim, but did not appear to have any definition to their muscles. All of them were big-breasted: Jen guessed that two were size C and the other two size D – one maybe even a DD. Jen seemed out of place in the group, with her long lean legs, her well-toned muscles, and her firm B cup breasts. Jen was proud of her body, although she often wished she had a bigger bust to fill out some of her sexier dresses. This morning, however, she was glad she would not have a set of big boobs bouncing unrestrained by any sports-bra, to hinder her as she ran.
Jen sensed an increase in activity and noticed that the crowd was gathering near the start line. Huntmaster James had walked over next to where the ‘prey’ stood under guard.
“Good Morning and welcome Hunt Club members, friends. I’m so happy that we have such a beautiful day for today’s Field Day hunt. Having so many of you here to celebrate this long holiday weekend demonstrates what a strong tradition the annual Hunt Club Field Day has become. The Club has gathered a fine collection of game to give our hunters a good test. All of our hunters today are wearing web-cams – encrypted, of course – so we will be able to watch their progress throughout the hunt on the monitors set up under the tents. The prey have already been briefed on the rules, so we’re ready to start. So, without further boring you with my speeches, Let the Hunt begin!”
With his last words, James held a starter’s pistol in the air and pulled the trigger.
Caught somewhat unprepared, most of the women captives were slow to move away from the start line. Behind her Jen heard one loudly proclaim that she was not going to play along with the game and that she wasn’t going anywhere. Although somewhat surprised by the abruptness of the start, Jen had launched herself into a sprint before the crack of the starting gun had faded. She wanted to get across the broad field in front of her as soon as possible so that her movements could be hidden by the screen of woods in the distance. The ground was rough, but hours of running on the grainy sand of the beach had toughened Jen’s feet, and she made good speed through the knee-high grasses. Still, it took her fully ten minutes to cross the uneven ground of the field and enter the fringe of the woods. Pausing to catch her breath, Jen looked back towards the tents set up by the start line. She could see three other women making their way across the field, the furthest with still a third of the distance to cover, and the slowest not even half way across. All of them were clearly struggling with the terrain and the rough ground on the doubtless tender soles of their feet. Only the furthest probably stood a chance of reaching the woods before the head start time expired and the hunters set off after them.
Figuring that the normal expectation would be for the victims to continue straight from the starting area, Jen planned to loop back through the trees in the opposite direction in hopes of eluding pursuit enough to let her get off of the estate. She also calculated that unless the starting field was in the very center of the estate the chances were good that the prey would have been started out heading across the longest distance of the property. If so, it would probably be closer to the edge by going back the direction she had come. She decided to continue ahead for a few more minutes, to put a good screen of trees between her and the hunters, before looping back. Having caught her breath, she set off through the trees as quickly as she could manage.
Hours later Jen’s speed had dropped considerably. The going was a lot tougher than she had imagined; the field where the starting tents were seemed to be the only level ground on the estate. The woods were a continuous series of steep hills and ravines, or dense thickets of thorny bush. Many times Jen had to decide whether to make a long detour or push through the brambles, at the cost of her skin. Body cut and torn by countless branches and thorns, she found herself going the long way more and more. Her feet too were a mess. Although her soles were tough and calloused, the many twigs and sharp stones on the forest floor had left her feet a mass of cuts and bruises. Jen knew that she was leaving the hunters a clear trail of bloody footprints, but there was nothing that she could do about it. Without food or water, Jen was no longer the same athlete who had sprinted away from the starting line.
The rugged terrain had also made it difficult for Jen to be sure which direction she was going in. Nevertheless, she could see the sun from time to time in breaks in the trees, or small clearings, and she felt that she was still generally heading in the direction she wanted.
She took heart knowing that it was a long time since she had seen or heard any other humans. Early on, not long after she had turned back in her looping path, she had had to fight panic when she had chanced across one of her fellow prisoners. The girl was one that Jen had thought stood a better chance of making it out, but when she found her she was hanging upside down from one ankle in the branches of a large tree. A ragged hole marred her lower back where the hunter had pulled his barbed arrow from her kidney. Her throat had been sliced open, leaving her face a mask of red and her long hair a caked, sticky mess from the last of her life-blood drained from her veins. A swarm of flies swirled around the body and a bird was busy pecking at her staring eyes. Jennifer had had to stop for several minutes as she wretched what was left of her breakfast onto the forest floor. After that she ran blindly for ten or fifteen minutes, crashing through several thickets and collecting many of her scrapes and cuts, before she was able to settle down and think clearly again. She had figured that the hunt was deadly serious, but seeing the body of the girl, so full of life in the morning, had brought the reality home to her like a kick in the gut.
Although she had overcome her panic, the incident was still a powerful motivation for Jen, driving her to keep moving despite the pain in her body. It was frustrating that she had not reached the edge of the estate yet, but she felt that she must finally be getting close.
Then, as Jen stumbled around yet another tree, she caught sight of what seemed to be a thinning of the forest. Five minutes later she stood just within the shelter of the trees, looking over the first sizable open field she had seen since the starting area. What made her heart skip a beat, however, was the fence line she could clearly see on the other side of the field, a fence line that bordered a country road, that told her unmistakably that she had reached the edge of the estate.
Even as she felt the hope surge in her breast Jen heard the crashing of footsteps in the woods from where she had come. How had the hunter – for surely the crashing was not made by one of the naked female ‘prey’ – gotten so close without her hearing him before? Jen thought of the girl in the tree and felt the fear threatening to overcome her again as she searched for a way to get to the fence without being seen. There was none. The section of woods where she stood formed something of a tongue projecting into the open space; to stay within the cover of the trees would mean heading back towards her pursuer. Jen realized that her best hope was to summon as much strength as she had and make a break for the fence, hoping to get over it before the hunter cleared the woods. She would have to go now, but still she hesitated a moment as fear tried to paralyze her. Finally, like diving into a cold pool, Jen sucked in a deep breath of air and broke from the tree line.
She pumped her aching legs, ignoring the pain in her abused feet, as she ran for the fence without looking back. Tired and battered as she was, desperation and adrenaline pushed her to a pace nearly as good as she had reached crossing the starting field, now so long ago. Muscles rippling beneath her torn skin, Jen’s finely conditioned body answered when her need called. Her chest burned as she gulped great lungs-full of air, but she was still fairly flying through the grasses when from nowhere she felt her legs tangled in straps of leather. Air exploded from her lungs as she crashed painfully to the ground. Gasping for breath she frantically searched for what had brought her down. Finding a length of leather strap, weighted on the ends, tangling her legs, Jen hysterically worked to free herself, even as the panic welled up, making her efforts less effective.
Finally free from the straps, Jen scrambled to her feet. Rapidly approaching from the direction of the trees she saw the ‘weaponless’ hunter closing on her. Just as she looked he released what he had been swinging over his head. Jen ducked just in time, letting the bolo fly past her head, before turning and sprinting again for the fence. She ran erratically, zigging and zagging in an effort to make the hunter miss. The fence was closer now, barely fifty yards away, when another bolo wrapped around her legs, bringing her down hard again. Jen scrambled to free her legs, desperate to reach the fence, but the hunter was much closer now. As soon as she managed to get to her feet, before she could take a step, a third bolo wrapped her legs. Jen toppled awkwardly to the ground, and the hunter was upon her. Putting his weight on her already immobilized body, the hunter held a cloth over Jen’s face. She gagged on a strong odor and passed out under the influence of the chloroform.
*** *** ***
Jen’s eyes flickered open. She blinked in the glare of the afternoon sun. Tickling her nose she saw the stems of field grass, which she seemed to be laying in. She felt like her brain was full of cobwebs. Wondering what she was doing lying in the grass – naked, no less – Jen tried to sit up and look around. Only then did she realize that her hands were bound behind her, with what felt like a large zip-tie. Slowly, her groggy mind began to piece together the events of the past few days. When she remembered the bolos she realized the meaning of her bound hands. Despair overtook her like an untouchable emptiness and she sagged back into the grass, the pain from her battered body flooding back.
“I see you are awake,” she heard the hunter say, as if through a fog. “The effects of the chloroform will fade in a few moments and we can get headed back. I’ve injected you with rohipnol-D, a fourth-generation refinement of the original drug. It will leave you conscious and capable of most activity, but suppress your will. It’s much too far to carry you back, and I want to bring you in alive, so you will have to walk yourself.”
“But first, you gave me quite a chase, you little bitch: now you’re going to pay back some of the sweat you’ve cost me.”
Jen’s arms twisted under her painfully as the hunter rolled her on her back. She saw that he had dropped his pants, revealing a thick erection. Pulling her legs apart he positioned himself between her knees. Jen tried to put up a struggle but, bound, still groggy from the chloroform, with the roofie-D starting to take effect, her efforts were easily brushed aside. Pain lanced through her loins as he forced his way into her unready sex; Jen hadn’t had a lover in half a year and the hunter’s thick penis stretched her dry vagina walls almost to the point of tearing. Jen’s arms ached under the weight of the hunter, her breasts throbbing where his calloused hands clutched them for support. Roughly driving in and out of her most private part, Jen felt the pain of the hunter’s assault in the center of her being, where there was nowhere to escape and nowhere to hide. When he had finished with his brief but brutal rape, Jen felt more violated and abused than from all of the torment of the kidnapping and hunt had caused her.
With the weight of the hunter off of her Jen rolled onto her side, closing her legs and curling as much into a fetal ball as her bound arms would allow. A stabbing pain in her nose made Jen cry out. The hunter had roughly pierced her nose and was fastening a cord to a ring through the newly-made hole.
“That should be enough to keep you in line. Now let’s get headed back.”
Jen felt the hunter’s hands under her arms, lifting her to her feet. She could see the fence line, so close now, and thought about making a break for it. Her arms were bound, but her legs were free and there was a good chance she could cover the short distance if she caught the hunter off guard. She didn’t try. Whether it was from the effects of the drug, or the effects of despair she didn’t know, and didn’t care.
At painful tug on the ring in her nose turned Jen around. The hunter started walking back towards the woods, trailing the cord attached to her nose; Jen stumbled after him.
Once into the woods they scrambled through the brush for several minutes before coming out onto a narrow game trail. Jen marveled at the trail; in hours of walking through the forest she had never seen a trail. She wondered how she had missed it; had she found it, would she have been able to move fast enough to reach the fence ahead of her pursuit? No doubt the trail was how the hunter had been able to catch up to her, cutting her off once he had calculated her course from her bloody footprints.
Although the trail was smooth in contrast to the forest floor, dirt and pebbles ground into the cuts in her feet. The scabs that had formed over the cuts while she was unconscious had broken open again and every step was painful.
Thinking of her flight through the woods, the stark image of her fellow ‘prey’ hanging in the tree, dripping blood came suddenly back to her. With it came a surge of panic over what would happen to her. Yet, apart from a slight hesitation as she walked, quickly ended by a slight tug on her nose-ring, Jen made no effort to get away from the hunter. Following the hunter meekly down the forest path she knew that the drug was working on her.
Time passed in a haze of pain and despair as Jen trudged through the trees back towards the start. When they broke out of the woods, with the tents visible across the field, streamers gaily blowing in the breeze, the sun was beginning to sink towards the tree-tops. Walking steadily, but not quickly, along the path they had managed to get back in less than two hours. Scrambling over hills, through ravines and past thickets, it had taken Jen all of the morning and into the afternoon to cover the same distance – although her looping path had actually covered more territory.
Watching the tents grow before her as they crossed the field, it occurred to her that the hunter had not slit her throat, like the other girl she had seen in the tree. Maybe he had something different planned for her. No one had ever actually said that the ‘prey’ in this hunt game would be killed. Hope surged in Jen’s breast as she realized how lucky she had been to be caught by the only hunter who was not using a lethal weapon. Jen thought about the agony of the rape; so what if the hunter raped her – so what if the whole party gang-raped her. At least she would live! The thought brought a small, defiant smile to Jen’s lips; her back straightened and her stride became more confident. The remaining distance to the tents closed rapidly.
As they came up to the tents the mouth-watering smell of grilling steak filled her nostrils, and Jen realized how hungry she felt. She caught a glimpse of sizzling burgers and steaks on a gleaming set of grills, chefs bushing bar-b-que sauce on several of the cuts. The view was quickly lost as the hunter tugged again at her nose-ring, guiding her to a set of frame-like posts set in a space between the tents. Under the tents, Jen saw several people cutting into steaming steaks, but most of the crowd had gathered to watch the hunter lead her in. Jen saw that a set of manacles hung from a pully in the center of the frame’s cross-bar. Stopping by the frame, the hunter slipped the cord from the ring through her nose and then, pulling a wicked-looking knife from a sheath at his belt, he stepped behind her and cut the plastic zip-tie binding her wrists. Grateful for the relief, Jen stretched her shoulders and massaged her wrists where the plastic had cut into her flesh. The respite was only brief, however. The hunter seized first her right wrist, and then her left, buckling each in turn firmly into the manacles hanging from the frame. Stepping to the side post he hauled on the ropes leading to the pulley. Jen felt her arms drawn up over her head, lifting her until she hung from her arms, toes barely brushing the grass under the frame. New aches in her shoulders replaced the pain in her feet as her arms took her full weight.
“That was a fantastic hunt, Frank.” Jen saw the partiers slapping her captor on the back in hearty congratulations. “I think I speak for the entire club in saying that we have enjoyed watching your thrilling chase. Having you bring in a live prize is the perfect way to end what had been a memorable Field Day. Shall we clean up the prize a bit before we continue? We have a prime filet ready for you while you wait.”
“Absolutely. I’m starving! The smell of the grill made my mouth water coming in.”
Jen’s stomach growled as she watched the hunter lead away to a table under a tent and presented with a heaping platter of food. As she licked her lips in envy, two men in staff uniforms set buckets of soapy water on the ground next to her and began to sponge her clean.
One of the women from the party took up a sponge to help out. Her hands caressed Jen’s cut and scraped body. She wiped the caked blood from the scratches on Jen’s breasts, lingering to lightly squeeze her nipples. Sponging Jen’s legs, the woman ran her hands up the insides of Jen’s thighs. Jen let her legs spread slightly as the woman’s hand stroked her sex, fingers dipping into her warming pussy. “Were you this wet when Frank took you in the field?” she asked rhetorically. Despite the ordeal she had gone through, or perhaps because of the contrast with it, Jen realized that the woman’s touch was indeed getting her aroused. Jen found herself checking out the woman whose hands seemed to find all of her erogenous zones. Water ran down the woman’s arms and splashed on the white cotton tie-front top restraining her very full bosom. Jen’s eyes took in her deep cleavage, her sculpted abdomen and her long, shapely legs. She wore low-rise stretch denim short shorts, featuring a deep V lace-up back. Three-inch cork wedge sandals held her manicured feet. Jen was starting to moan when the woman took her head in both of her hands and locked her into a long, deep, sensuous French kiss. Breaking the kiss, the woman spoke again: “Great run; that was the best hunt anyone in this club has ever seen,” and then she turned and walked back under the tents. Jen saw one of the other partiers lean close to say something to her, resting his hand on her round bottom. The woman laughed in response and rested her hand on his shoulder, letting her bosom press against his chest.
Jen’s attention was snatched from the interplay by something cool on her back. She twisted to see a serious looking man setting aside a cotton swab and picking up a scary looking syringe.
“Hold still. This will only hurt a little and you’ll feel much better,” he told her. Her strung-up position didn’t leave her with much room to maneuver anyway, and the remains of the rohipnol-D still in her system was enough to ensure that Jen didn’t give him any trouble. She felt the needle pinch her back, over her spine, but the pain wasn’t much compared to what she had already been through.
“I’ve just given you an epidural” the man informed her when he was finished. “It’s an anesthetic injected directly into your spinal column. Most people only hear about it in connection with childbirth, but it has other uses. Pretty soon you won’t be able to feel anything below your diaphragm.”
Jen was disappointed that the desire the woman had aroused in her now couldn’t be satisfied, but thinking of the coming gang-rape she decided that maybe the epidural would be a good thing after all.
For a time then it seemed no one paid any attention to her. Jen gradually ceased to have any sensation below her waist, just as she had been told. At the same time, her weight on her arms turned her shoulders into a mass of fire. She focused her attention on one of the fluttering streamers to keep from crying in pain. Shadows lengthened as the slanting rays of the sun announced the imminent start of the evening. Finally, a general stirring in the crowd drew her gaze back to the people around her. The hunter, Frank, had finished his meal and was heading back towards where Jen hung.
“I know you’ve all been waiting for this moment. I know I have, although that delicious steak was almost enough to make the day complete in itself!” Shouts of agreement greeted this pronouncement, along with cries of “Com’ on, Frank, get on with it!”
“OK, ok, I know you don’t want to hear speeches from me, so let’s not wait anymore. I must say, however, that this was the toughest hunt I’ve ever been part of, and I can’t tell you how happy I am that I could make the catch before the little minx got to the fence.
“Alright, where’s the knife?”
Someone handed Frank a thin knife that seemed to Jen to be about the sharpest she had ever seen. She wondered if he was planning to shave her already-trimmed bush before the group took their turns with her. At least with the anesthetic she wouldn’t feel if it he nicked her. As he stepped towards her, however, he didn’t bring the knife towards her bikini line. Instead he steadied her with his left hand against her lower ribs and placed the tip of the knife high against her abdomen. Jen watched in horror, too shocked to move at first, as he sliced into her skin, cutting a long line through the muscles of her abdomen clear to her pubic bone. The anesthetic worked perfectly, she didn’t feel a thing, but the blood welling up from the wound told Jen that what she had just witness was no dream. Only then did she begin to thrash about in an effort to escape from the horrible blade. Unable to move her lower body, and bound from above, there was little she cold do; in any event it was already too late. Frank handed the knife back and stepped back to Jen’s now bleeding body. Gripping the edges where he had cut her, he pulled the opening wide, exposing Jen’s wet organs. With one hand Frank reached into the gap and yanked at her insides. Strings of intestines spilled out onto the ground in front of Jen’s horrified gaze. Someone had let the hunting dogs loose and now they fought over Jen’s viscera. Jen screamed, much to the delight of the watching crowd, but the effort only seemed to force more of her guts to pour out. All the while Frank was continuing to pull things out of her. At one point he took the knife again and made horizontal cuts above her hipbones, making it easier for him to remove her organs. Jen saw what she thought was a kidney, and then something that looked like the liver she never bought in the supermarket. Jen was no longer screaming. Only low sobs came from her lips as tears washed her cheeks. Unable to feel any of it, her disembowelment had an air of unreality to it, but watching the dogs chewing her guts Jen knew it was over for her; she would die here today, as surely as the girl in the woods had died. She looked into the gaping cavity of her mutilated belly and wept.
“That’s enough, Frank, let her see the rest,” someone behind her said.
Frank tossed a handful of something squishy to the dogs and then reached up to her arms. Seizing her with hands soaked in her blood he spun her around on the ropes to face the opposite direction. Jen saw the chefs she had glimpsed earlier, now mostly standing by empty grills. To one side, previously blocked from her view, a great fire pit had been dug and Jen saw men carefully tending a bed of glowing coals under the slowly rotating carcass of some large animal. Jen realized that this was the smell that had had her mouth watering for the past hour. As the carcass rotated further Jen was appalled to realize that she recognized the animal: it was one of the girls she had met only that morning, one of the other ‘prey.’ The girl had been thoroughly gutted and a huge spit had been driven into her vagina, through her throat and out of her gaping mouth. Her ankles had been tie d at one end of the spit and her wrists to the other, in front of her staring eyes. All of her hair had been singed off and her skin now glistened with the look of perfectly roasted meat. An occasional drop of fat sizzled on the coals beneath her.
“We only need one spit-roasted girl this weekend,” Frank was saying to her, “Besides, you would probably be too tough – not enough fat on you. Most of you will probably go for stew, or hamburger, maybe sausage. The rest we’ll let the dogs eat. Too bad the ones that give the best chase are never the best eating.”
Jen saw him reach up to her neck with the filet knife. The super-thin blade hardly hurt when it cut her, even though the anesthetic didn’t affect her there. Jen saw red fluid – her blood she realized – spurt in great geysers out onto the ground, and felt its warmth pouring over her breasts. Jen had time to know it was over before the world went dark.
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