From Sara’s point of view, this weekend’s adventure was pretty straightforward. We would drive up to the wilderness in Chris’ van, I would get out and run away and, after ten minutes or so, she and Chris would come after me, armed with the paintball guns Chris had borrowed for the weekend.
There were rules, of course. We would all wear goggles – other dress was optional. In Sara’s mind, I think she would have liked me to be naked for the hunt. Sara usually likes me naked for our adventures, so no surprise there. Unfortunately, it was too cold at this time of year for that kind of fun. I checked the weather for the Sunday of our trip and the forecast was for a sunny day but with temperatures around 49°; too cold for running around naked in the woods.
If I made it back to the van unpainted, I would be home free and Chris would take me to the restaurant of my choice for dinner. Given that I had deliberately starved myself for two days to get in to the mood, this would be a good incentive for me.
If I should make it back to the van but had paint on me, the person who had painted me the most would get to determine my fate but I could set a limit on the consequences.
If I was captured, the person who captured me would be able to torture me with no limits. If the other person had managed to hit me with more paintballs, though, they would also get to be involved in my fate.
Needless to say they had different colored paintballs so the winner could be easily determined; blue for Sara and yellow for Chris.
Did I get a paintball gun of my own, to defend myself with? No chance!
One other thing; if I could stay out harms way when dusk settled, the game would be a draw and we would all just pack up and go home. Of course there was nothing to stop me taking off into the distance and just keep running. A draw was almost guaranteed that way, but I think none of us wanted the game to end in such an unsatisfactory way. I was duty bound to try and make to back to the van, thereby greatly increasing the risk of being covered in paint or captured – or both.
Those were the rules of our game, as agreed between Sara, Chris and myself on the Saturday morning prior to the game. They seemed fair enough to me and I even started thinking about which restaurant I would get Chris to take me to.
But as the day wore on, a slight dissatisfaction set in with me. I realized I missed the fantasy element that was so much part of my own self-bondage adventures. I enjoyed Sara tying me up, and it sure would be fun to have two people chasing me through the woods but it all seemed a little too contrived somehow. I needed a hook for this adventure, if only for my own motivation.
The original idea of a Cunt Hunt came from an Insex video I had shown ages ago to Sara. In that video, PD had chased some hapless girl (I can’t remember who it was) through the woods with a paintball gun. After he captured her, she was tarred and feathered – not something I wanted for myself. It looked fun, but again just very gratuitous – no back-story to make it come alive from the victim’s point of view. Why was she there? Why was this madman chasing her around the woods? Not Insex’s forte, providing a believable reason for the torture meted out to its victims. They were all there willingly and allowed themselves to be subjected to various humiliations and tortures. Fine, but a little cold sometimes for my tastes. If there were any fantasies running through the victims’ minds, we were never let into them. Shame.
Then I remembered seeing a comic book on a similar subject many years ago. I looked it up and discovered a Fansadox picture story called, ‘Woman Hunt’. The story is set sometime in a future post-apocalyptic world where the rule of law has broken down and a master criminal has free reign to live out his perverted fantasies. The nuclear deserts are sparsely populated with young women who are hunted for sport. Anyone with enough money can pay for a guide to take them out into the wilderness and bag themselves a girl. The comics are fun, if a little dark at times, and the only puzzling thing is why only pretty single women have survived in this environment and why they run around in the wilderness wearing high heels and short skirts. Go figure!
Anyway, I showed Sara the comics and she took an immediate interest. Actually, I realized Sara has now seen most of my video collection and most of my folders of pictures but has probably not bothered with my library of stories and comics before. I must put that right as there’s lots of interesting ideas locked up in there.
In the spirit of the comics, we added another rule. Sara would make sure I would regret getting caught. If I was captured I could expect to be treated very roughly indeed. Chris might not be up for that, but I knew from past experience that Sara could be very cruel. The thought of her maybe even slapping me around a little made me both excited and filled me with dread. It might even make up for my long period of bondage abstinence.
So it was agreed the Cunt Hunt would take the form of the ‘Woman Hunt’ comic and Sara would be the guide taking Hunter Chris out into the wilderness to bag himself a prize. We didn’t know if Chris would be comfortable with adding a role-play into the day’s events, but we could at least ask him.
It made the question of what I should wear easier to solve and gave me a context for the hunt, which made me feel so much more part of it. Sara rang Chris and he agreed to the slight change of plan as long as it didn’t involve him having to act out or say anything goofy. Sara assured Chris that he could just be himself, so he was happy. He was planning to wrap up in his hunting gear anyway, so this would mean no change for him in that respect. I would be lightly dressed, but could keep warm by running around a lot. Chris obviously planned to stalk me at a slower pace and maybe even lie in wait so he could ambush me and would therefore need to keep warm. Who knows what Sara planned to do – she certainly had no hunting gear.
I don’t really know where Chris took us; it’s not a part of the country I’m familiar with. All I know is we drove north-westish for a couple of hours and had a good talk on the way about all things, bondage and not bondage.
We drove off the main roads and through a heavily wooded and eventually Chris turned into a very bumpy track that meandered through the trees. He pulled up at a small passing place and proclaimed we had arrived.
As promised the sun was shining and it seemed like a nice day. That is until we got out of the van and realized how cold it was. At least the trees protected us a little from the slight cold wind blowing.
“Might as well get started” said Chris “pointing off into the trees”
I was wearing my white four inch high heels (I wondered how long they would stay white), tan hose and a short denim skirt. A white sheer top finished my outfit. Apart from the goggles Chris insisted we all wear at all times the only other item I had was a fanny pack containing my emergency supplies - a small bottle of water, my cell phone (switched to vibrate – I’ve learned my lesson), a whistle and an energy bar.
I debated whether to take my shoes off – I had a choice whether to allow them to slow my running, or risk cutting my bare feet on anything sharp hiding under the thin carpet of undergrowth and dead leaves. I chose to keep the shoes on for now, and took off into the woods at a brisk pace.
As I ran I debated to wisdom of wearing so much white. I would be easy to spot against the very not-white background of the woods. Never mind, it would keep me on my toes and was certainly in keeping with the slutty look of the comics. Actually, some of the girls in the comics were wearing nothing but their underwear – sometimes, not even that much, but it was definitely too cold to be running around in the wilderness with any less clothing than I had on now.
I ran as hard and as fast as I could, cursing my choice of footwear but feeling like I was putting a fair distance between me and my pursuers. After all, they still had to get their stuff together, that would take at least ten minutes, giving me a good head start.
After a while, I stopped to get my breath back. I was sure I could find my way back to the van as the ground I was on was sloping and I had been running downhill slightly for a while. All I had to do was head back uphill and find the road again, to be back at the van.
On the way up, Chris had been telling us about how his dad had taken him hunting many times when he was younger and so I was confident he would be able to make sure we were all safe today. He seemed to know what he was doing. Chris said he liked hunting but hated killing things. Today was a chance to relive his childhood but without the bad bits. So even if I did get lost I was sure Chris would be able to find me with the aid of my whistle. And in the unlikely event I were to fall and knock myself unconscious – well it was no more dangerous than the crazy stuff I do in my local woods all alone, was it.
Once I had my breath back I ran sideways for a while. My plan was to hit the road a little way from the van and walk along the road approaching the van from the side.
I knew that Sara and Chris would be expecting me to do that but they wouldn’t know which direction I would be approaching the van from and it would be hard for them to guard all three approaches to it. It was a predictable plan but still the best one, I thought.
I came across a small stream running gently down the hill and decided to use that as a guide to get me back to the road. I didn’t remember driving over a bridge or crossing a stream in the van, but then I wasn’t really paying attention as to where we were going as I didn’t realize we were about to stop.
My stomach was rumbling from hunger and suddenly that energy bar in my fanny pack was stating to look very appetizing. I put that thought aside; the bar was in case of emergency only. Besides, being hungry was part of the role I was playing.
I was a young girl forced out of my hiding place to look for food, knowing there were hunters in the area. I would be careful but I had to press on. I knew where the hunters usually parked their vehicles and if I could sneak around them unseen I could steal much-needed food right from under their noses and be back in my hiding place before they knew about it. I had done this many times before and knew the routine. I also knew the hunters were wise to my antics and would be looking out for me. I had avoided being caught for many months now but I knew I couldn’t afford to get overconfident. Many of my friends had gone after food in this way, never to return. No one knew for certain what happened to them, but we could be sure it wasn’t pleasant. I had no intention of joining my missing friends. It was my turn to venture out and risk getting caught to bring back food to our camp and I wouldn’t let my diminishing band of fellow fugitives down.
Following the stream, it couldn’t be far to the road now, I kept low and that was probably what saved me. I heard a pop and the tree next to me exploded with a bright yellow stain. The hunters used non-lethal stun guns that left a distinctive mark on their victims. This was to avoid disputes later as to exactly who had bagged a particular girl. I’d had a lucky escape there and made good by hitting the ground and rolling into the stream. Keeping even lower I made my way back down stream as fast as I could.
Once I reached the bottom of the hill, I had to pause for breath again and take stock of my situation. At least I would be harder to spot in the trees now, I thought as I looked down at my mud soaked clothes. Unfortunately I was also very wet and this meant I was getting cooler by the minute. I would have to run for a while, to get warm again.
But as I turned around deciding which was the best way to run, I heard another popping sound and simultaneously felt a sharp pain on my lower back. I instinctively bent my head round to look at the bright blue splash covering my top when another hit me on the shoulder, splashing up onto my face. Shit! I ran, not caring where; but needing to get away. Never mind getting marked with paint – these things hurt!
And so it went, for the next hour or so. Every time I tried to go up the hill, there seemed to be someone there, waiting for me with a painful reminder of just how defenseless I was. I tried very hard to creep up unseen – I even tried deliberately rubbing myself into the mud to disguise myself, but to no avail. I just couldn’t work out where my tormentors were hiding or how they managed to cover so much of the approaches to the hillside.
Even if I reached the van now, I knew I would be going hungry tonight. My dreams of a romantic dinner for three had been extinguished once the first paintball hit me. But I was determined to show them I was no quitter anyway. I would beat them yet, even though I knew the odds were lengthening for me. I was getting worn out, doing all the running – mostly uphill too – while all Sara and Chris had to do was watch for the easily spotted, brightly colored animal to come towards tem and let loose a volley of stinging bullets. I realized Chris hadn’t chosen this spot by accident.
I could afford to get a few spots of paint on me, as long as I didn’t get captured. I always made sure clear escape route behind me as I approached the road. And maybe that was my problem. It made my approaches too predictable. Maybe if I tried a different tactic, I could outflank my attackers. It would be risky though, forcing me through a shallow gully where there was no cover from the trees. If I got caught there, it would be the end for me. But, by now, I was shivering from the cold and I was desperate to reach the relative safety and warmth of the van. Despite my constant running about, my clothes were still wet from the times I’d had to crouch or even lie in the stream to avoid detection.
Hiding in the trees at the bottom of the hill, I steeled myself for the run up the hill and through he gauntlet of the gully. If I was fast enough I could make it before my pursuers knew where I was. I decided to take off my shoes as I would be able to run faster and quieter without them. I wondered whether it would be worth adding some disguising mud to my attire, but when I checked myself over, I realized I was already pretty much covered in mud from head to toe. My hose was torn and my legs were mud streaked. It was difficult to tell what color my skirt had once been. My top was transformed from into something Joseph would have been proud to wear. Ok it wasn’t exactly multicolored, its decorations only consisting of a mixture of blue and yellow paint with a top coat of brown mud, but it was a far cry from the sheer silk pure white garment I had donned this morning. I tried to hide as much as the bright yellow as I could and decided it was time to make my last ditch attempt at reaching the van.
Running silently up the hill I managed to make the gully without being detected. It looked like my plan might just work. I kept my head as low as I could and charged through the gully at top speed. It was only about four feet long so I hadn’t got far to go.
Then as I reached the end of the gully and looked up to find my way, I found my path blocked by Chris. He was simply standing there in my way. Going at top speed, I decided I had no choice but to try and sidestep him and keep going. Maybe my inertia would keep me going. But as I turned to run up the rocky side of the gully, I felt a sharp sting on my left breast and another on my back as I reached the top.
What I hadn’t taken into account, was how slippery the rock would be and, as I reached the top of the gully, my stockinged foot, slick with mud, slid from under me and I landed heavily on my face, knocking the breath out of me. Luckily there was grass at the top and so I had a relatively soft landing.
It took me a few seconds to get my breath back and I went to push myself up again to run for the cover of the nearby trees. But that is all the time it took for Chris to bound up the rock behind me and land on top of my back. He jammed the barrel of his paintball gun into the back of my neck and demanded I “give it up”.
I considered Chris was unlikely to fire the gun at pointblank range into the back of my neck. That would be far too dangerous. So I risked everything, and turned over quickly, hoping to unbalance him. The plan would have worked if Chris had been a bit lighter. But he ‘s much heavier than me and all I really succeeded in doing was to turn round so I was facing him. Chris immediately fired off another shot, hitting my other breast. Ouch! That really stung and I cried out in pain.
“Surrender?” was all Chris said, menacing my breast with his gun. I didn’t want to be shot again at such close range so I had to admit defeat.
“Sara, we got her” he shouted at the top of his voice. Seconds later Sara came running over from wherever she had been hiding.
“I’ll get the rope. You guard the bitch, make sure she don’t run off” Sara said, disappearing off towards the van.
“You ok?” Chris asked, while we waited for her return. “Does Sara always call you names like that?”
“It’s all part of the game” I replied, winking at him, “I’m cold, hungry, exhausted, and bruised, but I’m ok, honest. In fact I haven’t had this much fun in ages”.
Chris just grinned and shook his head, but when Sara returned carrying bundles of ropes he got into the swing of the game.
“Will you guard my prisoner so I can tie her up?” he asked Sara. She nodded and took his gun from him and aimed it squarely at my pussy while Chris got to his feet.
“Move a muscle and I’ll blow yer cunt off, cunt!” Sara growled, then couldn’t resist a smile at her own joke.
Meanwhile, Chris sorted through the pile of ropes Sara had thrown on the ground. It didn’t look like our normal rope so I examined it more closely out of the corner of my eyes. The rope was much thicker that what I was used to. In fact it looked to be over half an inch thick, and quite coarse. I figured it must have come out of the back of Chris’ van somewhere. He found the pieces he was looking for and started to wrap my ankles together. I guess he’s a newbie at this because he didn’t even bother cinching the coils. I reckoned I could wriggle out of my bonds if I needed to. Best to wait for the right moment, though.
My wrists were next, wrapped in the same way. This was going to be too easy.
“Back in a minute” Chris said, and wandered off towards the trees where Sara had been hiding earlier. I heard a grunt and he came back into view carrying a long, straight branch over his shoulder.
“Put your hands up” he commended as he approached me. I did as I was told and Chris passed one end of the thick branch between my wrists. “Now lift her feet” he asked of Sara and I felt my legs been lifted in the air and then felt the end of the branch pass between my legs.
“Grab the other end” Sara was told and, between them, they lifted me clean into the air, one on each end of the branch that passed between my bonds. I felt like a captured wild animal being carried off to the camp fire for roasting.
The branch wasn’t quite long enough for Sara and Chris to carry it over their shoulders and so I found my back occasionally bumping along the ground. They tried to hold me as high up as possible though so it wasn’t too bad. With the branch between my wrists and ankles I could no longer free myself so I was forced to simply hang there, holding my head up to prevent it banging on the ground, and allow my captors to take me wherever they chose.
“Looks like you bagged a specimen here” Sara said idly, as they carried me along. “I prefer ‘em with a bit more meat on their bones, meself” I had forgotten how much Sara enjoyed the role-play side of our games. She’d obviously taken the Women Hunt idea to heart. I couldn’t really tell how much Chris was into it, though, as I couldn’t see his face and his only reply was a grunt.
Eventually, we came to a small clearing in the trees on some flatter ground and we stopped. I was lowered to the ground.
Chris threw down the rest of the supplies he was carrying and then looked down at me, shivering slightly, in my muddy and wet clothes. He was obviously still a bit worried about my state and suggested they build a fire. Sara shrugged and so he wandered off to find some dry wood. Sara sat on the ground to rest. This was my chance, I thought. If I didn’t make a break for it now, I might not have another chance. With the branch lying on the ground next to me the pressure on my wrists and ankles was gone and I reckoned I had more than enough slack to wriggle free of my bonds. I slowly worked my hands free, making sure to keep them out of Sara’s eye line.
Once my hands were free I sat up slowly and making sure to keep my body between my freed hands and Sara, I reached down to untie my feet. In the end I realized I could simply slip my stockinged feet out of the coils of thick rope without needing to use my hands. Moving as quickly as I dared without drawing attention to myself, I soon had one foot free and was concentrating on freeing the other when I was knocked sideways by Sara as she pounced on me. Of course the crafty girl had known what I was up to the whole time and had waited until I was almost free, just to tease me. She shouted out and Chris came running, dropping bits of wood as he came.
“The cunt almost got free” Sara chided him. “You’re never gonna keep her if your rope work is always this sloppy. You have to let these bitches know who’s boss; right from day one, or they’re gonna be nothin’ but trouble”
“Let me show you what I mean” she continued. Grabbing the rope and wrapping it once more around my ankles. Then she took a long rope Chris had brought with him and mad a cinch for my ankles. She gave Chris the free end, telling him to throw it over a high branch.
Chris threw the rope over the branch and, following Sara’s directions, pulled on it until my legs were lifted straight up in the air. My body was bent in two at the waist. My hands were still free, but I was going nowhere. If no one had been around I could maybe have lifted myself up and untied my feet, but there was no way Chris or Sara would let me get that far. I lay back on the ground in defeat, while Sara removed my fanny pack and finished my water before throwing the pack on the ground.
Sara wasn’t finished with me yet, though. She took the branch used to carry me here and laid it under my neck so that the ends stuck out to either side of me. Then she used the remaining long rope to bind one of my wrists to the other end of the branch. The rest of the rope she wound round and round the branch and my outstretched arms until she reached my other wrist. That was tied to the branch too, and now my arms were welded to the branch and were forced out at right angles to my body.
The rope was tight where it passed over my neck and I said so. I was rewarded by a light kick to my ribs and told to shut up.
Chris took exception to this though, and told Sara that kicking was well out of bounds. She replied that I liked it and asked me to agree. I didn’t really know what to say here. I didn’t really like Sara kicking me, but it hadn’t actually hurt me much and I didn’t want to break the flow of the scene. The choice was taken out of our hands in any case because Chris ruled violence was off the menu and that was that. Sara argued that I would certainly need a good whipping later and that I actually liked it – not entirely true! I kept quiet and let them sort it out between them, even though Sara kept looking at me seeking support for her point of view. Eventually, Chris agreed that whipping was a different matter and would be allowed as long as I wasn’t in any obvious distress. Sara was disappointed but understood she had to go along with the more cautious approach of the relative newcomer to our games. For today, anyway.
“Right let’s get ‘er up” Sara commanded and Chris took hold of the rope he’d previously tied off round the tree and pulled hard. I was unceremoniously hoisted into the air and once my head was off the ground I started to swing about a little, the branch occasionally hitting the ground at first one end and then the other.
“More!” Sara barked and I was raised up until my head was next to Sara’s. She told Chris to hold it there and, while he grunted from the strain of holding me in one position, she planted a big upside-down kiss on my lips before gagging me with a strip of cloth she’d kept n her pocket for just that purpose.
“Don’t want the cunt screaming all night and keeping us awake, do we?” she explained and then indicated Chris should hoist me up further.
So up I went, until I was hanging about ten feet off the ground. It wasn’t actually far, I guess, but it looked like a mile, from where I was looking. I hoped Chris’ rope was strong enough to support my weight and that it was well maintained. It certainly looked the part – like he’d found it on a ship or something.
Once I was dangling uselessly in the air, Sara and Chris were free to get on with their tasks. Chris collected the wood he’d dropped earlier and assembled a fire right underneath me, while Sara rummaged about in her backpack for food.
It was starting to go dark by the time Chris had the fire lit and they sat down next to it to eat their picnic. Now my stomach was really growling and I started to dream about the meal I had so narrowly missed. Crap!
The fire burnt beneath me and although I hung upside-down directly above it I wasn’t too bothered by the smoke it gave off, as the slight wind kept the smoke mostly blowing off to one side. Occasionally, though, the smoke did drift up to me and I coughed and tried to swing out of its way.
If the smoke wasn’t too bad, the heat was very welcome. Well at first, anyway as I felt my body slowly warm up and my clothes started to dry out at last. After a while though the heat became more intense and I had to set myself to swinging to avid the worst of the heat. Chris and Sara kept up and act of studiously ignoring my plight and my antics but I knew in reality they were keeping a very close watch on me.
The fire was only small and so I was in no real danger from it but he feeling of being so helpless in the face of this peril was exciting; I couldn’t keep swinging away from the heat and smoke forever. Eventually, I would tire and then I would be at the mercy of the fire.
In fact that was exactly what Sara was waiting for. She realized better than me that my swinging was causing me more exertion than I realized and, combined with all the running about I had done earlier and my lack of food, that I would quickly tire.
Before long I found I hadn’t got the energy to swing anymore and I had to give in to my exhaustion and just hang above the fire. That was the cue for Sara and Chris to throw handfuls of dirt onto the fire and soon we were standing (and hanging) in semidarkness.
“Girl needs a whippin’” Sara stated “As I said, you gotta show ‘em who’s boss straight off. Teaches them not to do anything stupid, like runnin’ off or nothin’”
I was lowered again, until my head was about two feet off the ground. Then Sara approached me and put the goggle back over my eyes. They would be whipping me almost blind in the growing darkness and I guess Sara wanted to make sure we didn’t have an accident.
She held a whip in front of my eyes but it was difficult to make out exactly she was showing me upside down in the dark. Sara explained to Chris, but mostly for my benefit, that this was a much longer whip than she usually used on me, but that she didn’t normally have the room to swing it n our basement. She’d been waiting for ages to try it out, and now, in this open space, she had her chance.
Without any further warning Sara stepped away and I heard the whip swing. Seconds later I felt a band of fire across my thighs. The whip seemed to wrap itself around me so that a line of pain was right round my legs.
“Cool” I heard Sara say before the whip struck me again. And again. And again.
Before long my whole body was a mass of pain from my calves to the top (bottom>?) of my breasts. Sara had caught my head a couple of times and I was glad for the goggles – I would hate the end of that evil whip to find my eye.
Of course I screamed loudly into my gag but the torture continued. Chris seemed content with Sara assertion that I enjoyed being whipped – I’d had my chance to speak out about that earlier and had chosen to keep quiet, so I only had myself to blame for that.
After a while Sara said her arm was tiring and suggested Chris have a go. He was reluctant at first bet she insisted and so Chris picked up the whip and swung it at me. Chris is longer and more heavily built than Sara and so I steeled myself for the worst. But he was obviously not sure about this and the stoke wasn’t nearly as bad as Sara’s had been.
“Useless! Put some effort into it or she’ll never respect you” Sara taunted and, with her encouraging him, Chris’ strokes got more confident and I began to feel the effect of having a strong arm wielding the whip.
After six of so strokes of the whip, Chris seemed to lose confidence again. It was probably the noise I was making that did it. He stopped and, when Sara took the whip from him to finish the job herself, he put his hand on her arm and wouldn’t let her continue. The whipping was over. I simply hung there sobbing, my breathing ragged; sure I was bleeding from a thousand cuts.
“Time to go” Chris said. And they began to collect their stuff, aided by a torch Chris produced from his backpack.
At one point the torchlight played over my back and I heard Chris say “Shit!”. Moments later he came over to me and lifted my head in his hands.
“You really ok Andrea?” he asked, shining the torch in my face. I nodded. I wasn’t really ok, but I was just glad the torment had stopped. A few minutes later and I might have had to use my safeword. Something I am very reluctant to do for two reasons:
First, I never like breaking into a scene even if it is unbearable. I always need to be testing my limits, plus I know Sara would be mortified if I got into so much trouble I had to call off the scene.
Secondly, to encourage me to tough it out, Sara and I have agreed that using my safeword will result in such a dire consequence for me that it ensures I won’t ever use it lightly. The one thing I won’t agree to is having any piercings in my body. Sara would really like me to get some. So the deal is, anytime I safeword, I get a piercing. At least it would be my choice where the piercing would go but I can see eventually I will run out of safe paces to have one. So far, I am un-pierced and I hope to stay that way for some time to come. Of course, part of this deal is that Sara is not supposed to deliberately push me to use my safeword. But I know she loves me, and would never do that maliciously.
Chris got Sara to hold my head while he let me down slowly. He was all for untying me there and then but Sara insisted we carry on. Chris said it was up to me and bent down to remove my gaga and ask my opinion. I said I was ok to continue. I had agreed with Sara that she could treat me really badly today if I got caught. Chris might not be entirely happy with that but he was prepared to accept that I was.
Sara helped him undo the ropes holding me to the branch and I had yet another chance to escape. Truth is I was so exhausted now and dizzy from being upside down for so long that escape was the furthest thing from my mind, right then. And so I let Sara turn me over on my stomach and tie my hands behind my back and I put up no resistance when Chris picked me up and slung me over his shoulder.
I had never been carried away like this before and I must admit it was very erotic. Being carried off in to the night, bound and slung over the shoulder of a strong man. By the time we reached the van, my pussy was wet from the fantasies I had conjured up in my mind on the journey.
At the van, Sara produced more rope – regular size this time and I was freed long enough to be retied in to a hogtie. She folded and tied my hands behind my back so that my lower arms were parallel, Shibari style and then ran ropes up over my shoulders and around my breasts so that my arms were bound to my body. Then my ankles and knees were tied and a rope run form my ankle rope to my body harness in a loose hogtie.
I found out why it was loose when Sara explained I would be traveling like that on the journey home.
By this time I was really thirsty and risked asking for a drink. Sara slapped me across the face again and told me to shut up. But of course she gave me a drink anyway.
“Make the most of it bitch, I’m not gonna waste any more precious water on you” she said, pulling the bottle from my lips.
Then to my surprise Sara started to take her jeans off. The reason became clear when she then removed her panties and rolled the up into a ball. I could guess where those were going. I wasn’t disappointed and soon found my cheeks bulging as Sara stuffed her panties in my mouth. They were certainly ripe from her wearing them all day and running around in them. I could taste the telltale flavor of Sara juices on them, though, so the day had been exciting for her too!
“Need your shorts” she told Chris and after some cajoling, he took his pants off long enough to remove his shorts and hand them over to Sara, who promptly placed them over my head. These were pungent and I knew I would be wearing them for the next couple of hours, at least.
The journey back was uneventful. Well at least I assume it was, as I couldn’t see anything, blindfolded as I was with Chris’ smelly shorts and thrown in the back of the van.
At home, I was carried down in to the basement where my gag was replaced with the ring gag – a sure sign this was my lot for the night. Sara checked my ropes and made sure my circulation was alright before lowering me into the hole left be the workmen.
“You wanted to spend time in a hole, now here’s your chance” she scoffed, before throwing a heavy blanket over me, turning off the light and leaving me for the night.
Of course I had a few visits over the course of the night when Sara checked up on me but mostly I was left to try and get comfortable in my hole. It wasn’t a deep hole, only six inches or so to the top of the pipe that runs along the middle of it and a further few inches deep on either side of that. But it was very uncomfortable; there were stones sticking out of the dirt all over, and the concrete at the edges of the hole was very rough.
Eventually I must have fallen asleep though. Probably due to complete exhaustion. I awoke the next morning to find Sara untying my ropes. I was so stiff it took me several minute to get my limbs working again, but I had to complement Sara on her bondage, there was no numbness anywhere in my body or limbs.
A quick shower and a large breakfast later, and I was on my way to work in Sara’s car. I had to wear pants and a long sleeved top to cover the bruises, whip lines and rope marks. I’m not sure it was totally successful as I had a line running right across my face and even the longest sleeves showed the welts around my wrists when I reached out to put things up on the shelves. Bur no one said anything about it so I guess it was ok.
Apparently Chris had gone home not long after dropping us off. Sara couldn’t say exactly how much he’d enjoyed the day and I think he must have felt like an outsider to our secret world at times. But, maybe he’ll play again, one day.