Want to read the first part where she is hunted and captured? Though fiction, based on real events. Please do not ask me where or when this event takes places, this is a private event.*
She had been hunted in the woods, discovered hiding, and captured. Once the hunter recorded his prize, she began to strip out of her clothes. She took her time and saw around the corner of the recording tent some of the prey already tied to the posts. There weren’t many posts left and that gave a brief moment of satisfaction that she was one of the more challenging prey to find.
And then her apprehension about now being naked and wrists tied to a post came back. She gulped nervously. A postmaster came up to her and tied her wrists together and then pulled her into the spectator’s view. She walked past many of the posts with people being played with by the spectators. She heard the calling out of people watching, the groans or moans of the prey upon their posts. She tried not to look at anyone, tried to be aware of putting one foot safely in front of the other in a semblance of steady forward motion. Funny how difficult it was to just walk.
The postmaster found the post with her name on it, her hard limits underneath. While the spectators waited for the prey to be caught, they would often wander among the posts and look for names of prey they knew or curiously read the limitations of playing with each prey. Often, the spectators knew who they wanted to play with just based on the limits.
Her wrist bindings were attached to the rope at the post and raised above her head. The postmaster slowly positioned them, and checked with her level of comfort. It was a friendly female, and her voice was soothing. As she walked away, the postmaster smacked her ass hard. She yelped and jumped a little, startled. Taking a calming breath, not quite brave enough to face the spectators, she put her forehead to the post in front of her and willed herself to relax.
“Oh lovely, we’ve been waiting for you,” she heard a male voice that she recognized say behind her shoulder. His hand softly stroked her back, awakening her skin to his touch; it reminded her of a person approaching an apprehensive dog and letting it sniff their hand, getting the pet accustomed to the smell before petting it – she smiled at the idiotic analogy.
The “we” in that statement was a male and female friend of hers. She felt calmer, grateful that it was people that she knew that would first touch her.
The male spun her to the side, with her face to the spectators and the female friend; she chose to focus on the female within touching distance. Her friend gave her a large smile and winked in encouragement right before she felt a flogger hit her back. Surprised, her wrists tried to move down, but remained above her head, bound. He started with a slow and smooth rhythm, the leather tips almost hypnotically caressing her back and ass. The female moved closer and reached up to stroked the inside of her wrists beneath the rope, trailing a sensual path down her arms. The inner parts of her upper arms were so sensitive to the fingertips that grazed her. Her body began to focus on the sensations in front and back of her rather than the people watching. The woman smiled as if understanding, and then traced down to her breasts, softly circling around before fingertips pinched each nipple and tugged up. The pain was sharp and immediate; she stood on tiptoes to try to alleviate it but could only rise so far.
The flogger bit into her back with force and she jumped a bit on tiptoes to the delight of the male and female around her.
“Down on your feet,” the woman instructed and she obeyed, coming off of tiptoes as the woman released her nipples. The flogger continued to thump and bite into the back of her body and she tried to brace her body still. “Spread your legs,” and the woman reached down into a bag and pulled out a battery-powered wand. She felt her cunt clench, and with the heat and pain that he was creating, she was looking forward to the pleasure that the woman promised.
She spread her legs and the man paused in his administrations. His hand went around her neck, his body pressed into the back of her body, as if to hold her still, but with wrists tied her movements weren’t that free – and she had no desire to get away. She felt his erection through his jeans, his body a source of strength that her hot body grateful leaned against. She felt more than saw the wand positioned between her legs, briefly touching her thigh before it found her clit.
She moaned softly at the vibration. He moved away from her and her backside reverberated with the force of a paddle, increasing the vibrations somehow of the wand pressing to the front of her.
As the woman held the wand steady against her thrumming clit, the man paddled her ass and then moved to the front and caught her breasts a few times, a bit softer but no less painful. They felt heavy and hot from just a few hits. She felt her body tensing in pleasure, and felt a touch self conscious of coming close to orgasm outside in front of an audience.
He moved behind her and the sharp bite of a cane bit into her upper thighs. She whined a bit and the woman removed the wand. “No,” she gasped in disappointment, so close to an orgasm.
Someone came up and with the thin rod of a stick marked her inner thighs, drenched by now with her desire. She didn’t know this stranger, didn’t try to look at him, as her male friend softly stroked her throbbing ass and heated back with the barest of fingertips. Now it was her front inner thighs on fire while the back of her body was being soothed, and she felt overwhelmed with the sensations. The stranger moved on and her female friend was back with the wand, without hesitation firmly pressing it to her sex, and while the male again continued his rough assault on her back, she came.
Her thighs shook and felt her whole body tense with the effort to stand but oddly also relax into the earth. The bindings at her wrist helped her remain upright, reassuring, and the woman, as if knowing what she needed, pushed the side of her body against the pole for further support. Another stranger came up with a spatula and rhythmically struck the exposed side of her body, rotating between the hip and thigh, increasing the impact force until she squirmed, before chuckling and moving onto the next prey.
She felt exhausted, she was barely aware of her friends sensually stroking up and down her body, only awakening to a sharp slap on some expanse of skin or an implement – though they used those sparingly now.
Someone over the loudspeaker announced that the round was over and all the prey had been caught. Gratefully, a postmaster came over and lowered her wrists, untying her. The male friend was still there, pushing her into the pole forcefully and wedging her there with his body as she was untied, and then scooping her in his arms to carry her to their shady tent on the outskirts of the spectator’s arena.
She wasn’t sure she could walk, and was immensely grateful for his assistance. The female friend grabbed the toys and a bottle of water and followed along, sinking into the blanket where she was lowered. They wrapped her and praised her, the male holding her still on the ground, the female taking a few moments and then taking the bounty to the hunter who had caught her in the first place.
It was such a unique, exhausting, awesome experience.