Chasing Paradise Ch. 14

Chapter 14 - Helping Hand

Yorotani Island - The Hunting Grounds

The watch beeped again, and Amelia cursed, hoping none of the nearby hunters were close enough to hear it. She looked down at the screen, and a countdown was displayed along with the new boundaries the hunt was taking place in. She was already well inside the new area, and on her way to the end goal but the more she looked the more she felt like she was being toyed with. The zone had all the feel of some invisible snare ready to snap shut at a moment's notice, trapping the prey inside. She allowed herself a brief snort of amusement. She knew that's exactly what it was already, she had from the beginning. Pussiana was rigged against women and this little outpost of all its very worst excesses was absolutely no different. To her, though, even the worst odds could be bested if you were simply willing to do what it takes.

She was at least making decent time through the undergrowth. She'd seen most of the runners stuck to cleared paths, or the lighter vegetation of stream banks as she passed them, moving from shadow to shadow amidst the foliage. They were, doubtless, faster than the route she was on, and less demanding but tropical sunlight glinting off sweat covered skin stood out in the open like a sore thumb. That same sweat beaded over her as she moved, and she was thankful for the shade of the foliage. When the hunt had begun the cool ocean breezes had promised some comfort but here the heat was beginning to become oppressive. Already so far today she'd watched from the shadows as women had been caught. She'd stayed stock still as one was hit by a tranquiliser dart. Amelia saw the colourful little tag of the dart as the needle hit her in the base of the neck; the woman had barely had time to register the shock of the impact before she toppled into the dust like a puppet with its strings cut.

Knowing any movement might give her away Amelia had little to do but watch as the woman lay there in the dirt. The woman's eyes had been open in terror as the hunter approached, his clothing a patchwork of mixed greens, and strange pieces of cloth that looked for all the world like leaf and moss cover. If he stood still Amelia could barely see him even knowing where he was.

Calmly and efficiently he'd bound her so she could be worn almost like a backpack, he'd talked the whole time as tears rolled off the immobile woman's face. He'd talked of a lost love, dead many years ago now in the Revolution. She was a spirited and fiery woman, determined to stand up for herself and others, to resist Fist and Arrow with all her might. He talked longingly of her figure, her breasts, the way she moaned as he treated her like a whore in private. Something about the way he talked, though, was disconcerting. Wrong. Deeply wrong. Rooted to the spot, careful in case even her breathing gave her away Amelia listened closely as the story went on to explain how he, as all civic minded men of the time were encouraged to do, had joined the party. They were in government now, the Compulsory Female Slavery laws were enacted. He mentioned he'd tried so many times to stop her being the activist she was, but it drove a wedge between them. She grew cold, distant...

He came home one day to find her gone. Her clothes, her bags, her motorcycle. She'd had no family, so when the CFSL was enacted she was registered with him as her CMR much to her disgust. He'd called the BFA. The Bureau had been more than happy to hear there was a woman on the run against her CMR's wishes, and they'd taken care of it. At this point the women of Pussiana knew very little of the laws passed to restrict them, and the technologies to control them. She'd been apprehended at the airport, charged with property damage when she'd punched a check-in slave after being told she couldn't leave Pussiana without her CMR's express written consent.

By the time the BFA returned her she was a mess. Bruised, lacking clothing, zip tied at the ankles and wrists she was reduced to a shuffling hobble. With every move the ties rubbed a little more and threatened to overwhelm her with pain. As she was pushed through the door of their home the BFA officer offered him something that he'd taken in a rage, and how he'd enjoyed watching the dawning realisation on his love's face. The band had tightened like a noose around her neck, choking her spirit out of her, barely touching the physical thing but crushing her soul. From that day on she was never again capable of being the woman he loved. Everything he said, ever last word made it clear that it was her fault for making him do it.

Now, he continued, here on this island with all the savings from his retirement after military service he'd come for someone with that same fire, that same passion for freedom, the same beautiful breasts, and she could be all his, all over again.

His captive was now bent backwards, immobile, ankles linked to wrists, propped up on her knees so he could look at her. Amelia was pretty flexible but the pose would have left her screaming, and the woman's breathing was strained. He gently pushed her dark hair from over her face and smiled. His mood turned darker as he looked at her. Even at the distance she'd been watching Amelia could see the change. He slapped her face hard enough the girl's unresisting head whipped to one side and lolled there. He took a handful of her hair and began screaming in her face, asking why she'd left, why she'd made him do this. What was so wrong with her that she thought she could change her world and destroy his. The slapping continued across the face and breasts, leaving the woman's skin blossoming red rather than the dusky olive it had been.

He flipped her over and let her face fall to the dirt of the forest floor, hanging limply in the woman's temporary drug-induced paralysis. For a second he stood over her, his eyes so fixed it was like he was boring holes in the woman's neck as he took deep uneven breaths laced with the red mists of fury. Amelia began to wonder if she was about to become witness to something much worse than enslavement but the man's face slowly changed again, his breaths evening out as he did. Amelia saw something like rainclouds parting above his eyes, that same red mist that had descended in his mind evaporating in sunlight. He apologised, again and again and again, over and over to the still drugged and paralysed woman but she was in no position to respond. As he waited for a response she could not make the pendulum of his mood swung around once more to frothing invective laced rage. Within moments he was behind her, his trousers undone, using the rope that bound her arms to her ankles to pull her up and force her ass onto his cock.

All the time he fucked her his mouth was at her ear, telling her she wasn't good enough, wasn't strong enough, lacked mental clarity, didn't know when to admit defeat. This new woman, it seemed, was getting the full projection of his lost love. The woman had no option but to lie in the dirt, filthy, tears welling in her eyes, being penetrated by a cock that, to Amelia's eye, was certainly capable of making someone uncomfortable if that was the aim. She winced slightly as he began to fully insert himself and wondered if, even paralysed, she'd be able to handle a cock of quite that magnitude.

Eventually he finished, his rage seemingly drained. It didn't take him long to gather up his gear, mount the woman like a backpack, and head off in what Amelia presumed was the direction of one of the banding stations.

Amelia had waited a few minutes as the woman was carried off before moving again. She knew the men hunting them were basically just rich assholes, and she didn't want to be owned by any of them, but that guy seemed very much on the end of the owner spectrum that ran through slave girls very very quickly, and messily.

Luckily she hadn't run into the pair again after that, but she'd been sure to be more careful, after all if a hunter who was working on a budget could afford camouflage like that then what toys could the rest of the spring for? It didn't take Amelia long to realise, however, that at this pace she was never going to outrun the gradually tightening snare around all the women. She had to pick up some pace. Slowly she began to feel more and more oppressed by the heat, the growing humidity, the slow change of the air to one that almost burned to take deep lungfuls of.

It didn't take long at this new pace to come across a new obstacle. She hadn't realised it, but she reasoned she must have been following a steep incline for some time, hidden by her progress through the trees. In front of her the ground dropped away quickly, and had she not noticed it in time she'd almost certainly have been sent tumbling down the steep embankment. She peered down. The foliage at the base was shorter, less like the forest on the rise she was on. She'd have to hunker down to hide, or spend an age finding another route. She groaned to herself, and then spotted something. Pale skin amongst the plants and dead trees fallen from the rise. Arms splayed, unmoving, she could see an unmistakable path of broken branches and crushed greenery leading to them; clearly they had been less observant or less lucky than she.

Confident she could make it down unseen she half slid, and half ran down the steep slope, and crept up on the body. To her surprise it groaned. The woman was still alive. She sighed, and started to see what she could do to help.

Yorotani Island - The Hunting Grounds

As far as Saffi could tell she was still making up a lot of ground, dashing almost effortlessly from cover to cover with seemingly no one else in sight. It looked to her like the hottest part of the day was behind her, and from here on out temperatures would surely only get cooler, and the shadows longer, something that only helped her and all the other runners. She knew every turn on the island was one where potential danger lay but to her it all looked beautiful right now. Leafy dappled greens, crystal clear streams, she'd even marvelled at a strange ruined village she'd made her way through. She didn't know if this island had had people before the arrival of the hotel, or if it was just set dressing for the hunt, but the buildings made of loose stone had given her some much needed shade to take a drink, and a moment of rest before moving on.

The village too was now behind her, and she travelled through a flat area shaded by a canopy, with clusters of trees spread all around, like a denser older forest had been cut back to allow for this far more open one. Suddenly a noise not too far above a whisper made her perform an almost perfect baseball slide on the run in an attempt to seek cover. She didn't really bother to process what the sound was until she felt she might be safe from any would-be predators but now she had plenty of time to listen.

"Help, please! I know you can hear me, it will only take a second." came the voice again, it was tinged with fear and tears.

A woman's voice, and one in need. Saffi was apprehensive. All helping someone else did was make it more likely that she'd end up being caught herself. She mulled for a second, and came to the conclusion that all she was fighting for here was a chance to make her own choices, and she didn't want to take that away from anyone else if she could help it. If she was the one who needed help, she reasoned, wouldn't she want the tiniest hint of mercy too?

"Please, I know you're out there, I'm stuck, I don't want to be caught like this."

The words gnawed at her. She resigned herself. It was a stupid idea. She knew it was stupid. So desperately stupid. She also knew that she couldn't walk away and live the rest of her life knowing that's what she'd done. She let out a slow breath to calm her mind, and re-centre herself before she moved out of hiding, and headed out in search of the voice.

She couldn't immediately see anyone in the vicinity, but the shadows of the rustling leaves above played cruel tricks of light on the eyes, "Keep talking, I can't see you, where are you?" she asked in the general direction she'd last heard the noise hoping for some clue she could latch onto.

"Over here, please, hurry" the voice said.

It didn't take too long then for Saffi to find the woman who'd called her. The question was then more what she planned to do about it. She looked the woman up and down. It was pretty clear what had happened, but she had to ask just to keep the woman calm while she worked on a solution.

"So what happened?"

The woman looked nervous for a second, then answered slightly falteringly. "Hunters, This-- I mean, I was hiding from hunters up this tree. They passed by but the branch I was on broke, I fell, and now I'm stuck here."

And stuck there she was, Saffi thought. The trees were closely packed, and she'd fallen at a point where the gap between two of them narrowed all the way to the ground. It had to have hurt like hell, but there was no reason to really state the obvious. The markings criss-crossing her breasts and stomach were a good indication she was likely already in tremendous pain.

It took an awkward minute or so of cupping her hands to give the other girl a foothold so she could scramble up and out, grabbing her at the waist so she could descend safely. Saffi beamed at the other girl as she came in to hug her out of thanks.

"It's okay, it's okay, but look, we need to get out of here and move on if we want a chance of making it to the end." said Saffi, feeling the girl's arm's tighten as she said it, like she never wanted to let go. As she did something caught her eye. The collar on the girl's harness was loose, it looked like there was something beneath it. By the time Saffi realised what it was, she also realised it was far too late.

"This cunt thanks you, and is sorry."

The slave pressed a button concealed in her harness. Strong electromagnets at the hands and feet activated, locking her body tightly around Saffi's, and at the same time a massive current passed through protruding studs on the harness to act like a stun gun on both women. They toppled to the ground, a tangled mass of limbs, Saffi spasming uncontrollably within the slave's magnetically aided grip.

It took a few seconds for Saffi to regain feeling, and she tried vainly to break the magnetic grip the slave had on her.

"Get off me, get off, let me go!" she shouted, desperately trying to squirm from the slave's grip, discovering as she did that the slave had managed to wind her hands through some of the straps, and that unless she could break the magnetic lock there was no escape.

"Please Miss, do not struggle, this cunt wishes only to bring you to the service of her Master. This cunt's Master instructed her to do this, and we shall both be rewarded by serving him. Do not worry, this cunt's tracker chip means he knows exactly where we are."

Saffi had no intention of serving this slave's Master, or anyone else on the island, and she tried to twist out of the grip once more before an electronic whine signalled the capacitors on the slave's harness were charged once more. As the next shock scrambled her brain once more she was no less determined to get away, but she could already feel the electrically induced spasms wearing her down as every muscle in her body clenched far beyond what it should do, and beyond her own control to stop it.

The Hotel Yorotani - Hunt Control

Gabrielle hit the buzzer next to the security door of the hunt control room and waited. After a few seconds a low buzz told her the door was unlocked, and she was allowed inside, one of the privileged few female staff allowed inside. She grabbed the handle to the slightly unwieldy trolley she was pushing, and backed into the doorway so as to open it as softly as she could. She knew the men on duty here were in hotel critical positions, tracking the progress of the hunt, modifying the conditions, keeping their guests entertained at all times. The room was dark, and cool, full of screens showing cameras, maps, graphs, everything that was needed, 4 men around the edge manned the terminals, and in the centre stood the hunt controller, a retired Colonel named Declan Teague, with a tabletop display he watched, arms folded, the stub of a cigar in his mouth.

Gabrielle moved swiftly, she didn't want to disturb them any longer than was necessary. Each man had their drinks changed out, and a fresh plate of their preferred snacks from the top of the trolley. Finally she opened one of several large cubbies at the base of the trolley, and allowed the slave within to swap for the ones at the terminals. It was rarely more than a practised few moments to detach the stiff leather cuffs and collar of the spent slave from the rubberised chains, then a few more to re-attach the new slave, making adjustments on the collar chain for adequate forward and backward movement beneath the desk.

After the men at the edge of the room she went to the centre console, a giant table-like touch display that Colonel liked to pace around, and began her work there. She had some trouble removing the slave at first before noticing her collar had been rebuckled uncomfortably tight. The woman was barely breathing but managed to maintain enough composure to bitchwalk to the cubby of the trolley and remain self shackled. Very quietly Gabrielle adjusted the collar before shutting the door and Jigglyjuggs did her best not to gasp for air when given the extra notch of space to breathe.

"Hot damn, that fake runner shit actually worked!" cried one of the men around the edge of the room. "Just went right up to help her and BAM now she's on the floor all ready to get a nice new slaveband, score one for the good guys. Looks like her new owner's a little busy elsewhere, though, so I'd say she's just going to have to take those electroshocks for a while."

A ripple of laughter ran around the room. The men here always got excited by a capture, it was the hunter in them, Gabrielle thought. Something Neanderthal, primal, brutal, seeing the prey be taken down to feed the tribe. It was the same instinct that made them grab women by the hair, pin them down, and take whatever they needed from their struggling bodies. She watched the monitors for a second while refreshing the Colonel's drink and snacks, taking in the running women, the stalking hunters, and the maps that gave some idea of the whole area of ground they were covering.

"Beautiful isn't it?"

A tiny mote of panic ran through her. She wasn't used to being noticed in the control room. "Pardon, Colonel?"

He was easily a foot taller than her, and with the enhanced physique that came with military service broad enough to cast her in deep shadow. He took a puff on his cigar and Gabrielle looked up at him as he did, watching the chiselled masculine face that was topped with neat white hair, and defined by a short white goatee and moustache. "I said it's beautiful, isn't it." he said, still without looking at her, "This team is a well oiled machine keeping these civvies thinking they're doing some real hunting when most of what's happening is we're herding their preference of girl somewhere close to them." he said, his voice deep and with only a hint of the gravelly tone years of cigar smoking should have given him.

"I didn't know we matched up the prey with hunters quite so closely." she said, watching the dots on the map, unsure who each represented.

"Well, the clients all get to select how difficult they want it beforehand. These three here," he said pointing to a group of dots on the table screen in front of him, "They're just businessmen here on a lark, they picked out a few slower and stupider girls so we made sure they could have some nice juicy success on day 1," with a few presses on the table touchscreen a new view was shown, "The Eimers, however, they want a challenge so we're closing off fewer routes for their choices."