Eighty One - Laura's Story Pt. 04

"I'll leave you to settle in then. When you like, you come down to the kitchen. I've just made a cake and I'll brew us a nice pot of tea."

"Hmm. That sounds lovely but I think I'll perhaps take a shower and have a bit of a nap first."

"As you wish," Mrs Harris said as she shut the door before making her way back down the creaky stairs.

After unpacking the few items of clothing she had taken, Laura picked up her bag of toiletries, took one of the thick, fluffy towels from the bottom of the bed and headed for the bathroom. She had seen retro suites in bathroom centres but this one looked like the real thing. She loved the big sink with massive brass taps, the toilet with its high level cistern and the huge cast iron bath. She promised herself a long soak in there before they left. But at that moment she just wanted to take a shower. Was there a shower? There certainly wasn't one in the room where she stood. She tried the door in the far wall. There it was, a decent sized walk in shower, just what she needed.

It was a hot day outside and Laura had spent so long in the shower her skin had turned bright red making it difficult to dry herself. Opening the window cleared some of the steam and helped to get her body back to a normal temperature.

She spent some time gazing from the window. She could see a small river in the bottom of the valley. Scattered copses, lush green fields and low stone walls stretched as far as the eye could see. It really was beautiful.

Perhaps she would go for a short walk before she had tea with Mrs Harris. Once back in the main bathroom she looked for her clothes. They were nowhere to be seen. She was certain she had put them on the side of the bath, but they were no longer there. She would have to put something else on and go back to look in a while.

Wrapping the towel around her she rushed back to the bedroom. The door wouldn't open. Desperately rattling the handle had no effect. She looked at the lock. It was a Yale: she had locked herself out. She chastised herself for being so stupid, but, as there were no other guests Laura felt it safe to get another key from Mrs Harris. Gripping the towel securely she crept downstairs, calling for Mrs Harris as she went. There was no sign of her; in fact there was no signs of life at all. She poked her head around the kitchen door and called.

"Mrs Harris, Mrs Harris. Are you there?" Startled by the voice from behind her Laura turned to see Mrs Harris in the corridor.

"Are you ready then?" She asked.

"Ready? I can't find my clothes and now I've locked myself out of the bedroom. Do you have a spare key?"

"That's a bit silly then isn't it?" she said looking Laura up and down. "Your clothes are in the bathroom."

"No, I left them on the side of the bath and then they weren't there when I'd finished my shower."

"They're in the cupboard by the sink." She said it as though it was obvious. Standing naked, apart from the towel, Laura felt it unwise to challenge why they had been moved in the first place.

"Oh, I see. I'll just go and get dressed then." With that she padded along the corridor and back up the creaky stairs. The annoyance she felt at somebody moving her clothes was overridden by the relief of getting them back. The relief soon turned to disappointment as the cupboard contained nothing but a pair of plain white trainers. Grabbing the trainers as evidence Laura stomped back down the stairs.

"Mrs Harris, my clothes are not in that cupboard only these trainers," she said, banging them rather too forcefully onto the table; by then the whole incident had become more than a little irritating.

"They are your clothes, silly girl. And you'd best get ready." Laura was lost for words. Mrs Harris casually returned to the cutlery she had been polishing when Laura entered.

"These are not even mine, Mrs Harris, and get ready for what?"

"That's your stuff for the hunt, you are here for the hunt aren't you?"

"The hunt?" Laura had no idea what the woman was talking about and assumed her to be a little crazy.

"Mr Weston thought you'd be pleased. Needed a bit of a hand he said, looking for your bits."

The mention of Weston's name made all the pieces of the bizarre incident fall into place. It was a set-up: they were playing with her again. "And I suppose I have to hunt for the pieces wearing just these trainers?"

"Don't be silly." The woman laughed out loud. Well at least that was some relief to Laura.

"Come here," she said, moving over to the window, "you see that tower over there," she pointed at the horizon, "just to the left of that hill with the flat top." Laura could see the tower.

"Yes. What about it?"

"That's where it is."

"'It' being the pawn?"

"That's right, and some shorts and a top, oh and your key of course."

"How far is it?"

"Oh, it's only four miles. You'll be there in no time, you being a runner an' all."

"You've got to be kidding, right. Let me get this straight. You expect me to run four miles, naked, to get the pawn and some clothes to come back in?"

"That's it. If you make it."

"Make it?" The conversation had got so ludicrous that whatever the woman said was now beginning to sound reasonable.

"That's right, without being caught by the boys."

"The boys?"

Each short question clarified a little more of the absurd task. Mrs Harris told her that all she had to do was race to the tower wearing nothing but the trainers. If she got there before being caught by 'the boys' she won the pawn and preserved her modesty for the return journey. The boys—armed with paintball guns—would hunt her down. If she got shot before reaching the tower, she lost. Mrs Harris went to great lengths to emphasize how fair it all was. She would make sure that Laura had a good head start and she wouldn't tell the boys where she was heading, only the general direction.

"Right you are then, get your shoes on." Mrs Harris took the shoes from the table and put them on the floor in front of Laura.

"They might not fit me." Any stalling tactic would do, she hadn't even considered refusing to do such an outlandish thing.

"Oh they will, they were bought just for you." Laura tucked her towel in tightly before bending to put on the trainers. They were surprisingly comfortable, a good choice. "Lets be having the towel then and we can get started."

"But I'll be naked, somebody might see me." She increased her grip on the towel, the last barrier to the loss of her modesty.

"Don't be silly, there's nobody around to see you."

"Are you sure?"

"No," she said, then suddenly stopped as if a thought had come to her. She looked at Laura. "You're not wearing panties are you?"

"Of course not." Then she paused, indignant at the woman's gall. "And what if I am anyway, what's it to do with you?"

"Well, you know you're not allowed and what would have to happen if you were. But if you're not it's saved me a job."

The absurdity of the situation was not lost on Laura. Miles away from home and she still had Weston and that horrible Colonel ruling her life. The woman would have smacked her. Would she have let her? Did she want her to?

Mrs Harris held out her hand and waited. Her righteous side told Laura to walk away with her dignity, the other side told her not to make trouble: get the pawn and let them have their fun. It was even beginning to sound like fun to Laura herself. She was quite confident that she could win back the pawn, after all she was a fast runner, and what a great story to be able to go back and tell the girls. Would they believe that she was brave enough to go running around the Devon countryside completely naked? She thought not. The devil in her took over.

She grasped the towel. You'll regret it, one of the little voices inside her head said. Shut up it's an adventure, another one answered; more fun than going for a walk and reading your book.

As calmly as possible she removed the towel and draped it over the outstretched arm. She was getting quite used to being naked in front of strangers.

As she calmly waited, gloating over how she had foiled their plan to humiliate her Laura felt an unexpected sense of pride pass through her. She was a match for their challenge, in fact, she told herself they were doing her a favour. She thought she was going to have to search high and low for the pawn but there they were handing it to her on a plate. She could do it, she would outrun and outwit them, earning her reward.

"Lovely young thing, just like they said. Turn around then." Laura turned her back. "Arms back." She heard the metallic clink and quickly turned to see the cuffs.

"What are those for?" The panic was clear in her voice.

"It's the rules, you have to follow the rules don't you?"

"Yes but... there's no need, really." Her pleading was ignored.

"Turn around and put your arms together, goodness gracious, what a fuss." She knew there was no point in resisting. Objections were for the real world. The world where people made decisions for themselves and were in charge of their own destiny. She had left all of that far behind.

"There you are then. Comfy?"

"Couldn't be better, Thank you so much." Mrs Harris smiled at the sarcastic reply.

"I like a bit of spirit. You're a good one you are. I hope you make it. They won't hamper you moving; except to cover yourself up if you meet anybody." A wide smile spread across her face. "You'd best be off then."

Loosely holding her arm Mrs Harris led her outside and once again pointed out the tower. Whilst staring into the distance Laura desperately tried to plan a route. Avoid open spaces, she told herself; stick to undergrowth and trees. Her concentration was broken by the sound of the front door closing and the key turning in the lock.

There was no going back.

14

Blind panic made her rush into the first cover available, a field of tall grasses adjacent to the cottage garden. About fifty yards in she stopped and crouched down, making herself as small as possible—she needed time to think. Had anybody seen which way she went? She got up on her knees, stretched her neck high and looked back at the cottage. Were they watching her from behind the curtains? She pictured what they would see. A head rise up out of the grass and turn in every direction to check for predators, just like one of those meerkats on the television. The image made her laugh out loud. What the hell was she doing? It was supposed to be a restful weekend in the country. They would walk, he said, read, chat and go for nice meals. Instead she was crouched down in a field, naked, handcuffed and four miles from a very dodgy safe haven.

She had to stop laughing and get a grip, the situation was serious, she needed to win back the pawn. Was it worth going through all this? Of course it was, she was going to win the shares and, in the process, she was going to show them what she was made of. Actually, those first yards had been rather pleasant. Already she could see why nudists chose their lifestyle. It was quite liberating to feel her breasts swinging free as she ran, and the long grass brushing between her legs wasn't too bad either.

As she thought through her options a basic plan began to emerge. Racing for the tower was too risky. Without the use of her arms to break her fall, a trip could result in serious injury. Instead she decided to keep a low profile, move slowly and keep hidden as much as possible.

In what seemed like a short period of time Laura was concealed within a small copse overlooking the tower. With no sign of her pursuers being anywhere close by, the only hint of a problem came from a couple of middle-aged walkers. Not hearing their approach until the last minute meant that her only option was to slither into the undergrowth and keep very still. They passed close enough for her to hear their conversation. How on earth they didn't hear the sound of her heart pounding in her chest remained a mystery.

Sitting in the tall grass, leaning against a tree, Laura looked over her body. The covering of dirt, sweat and dried plant life concealed a multitude of minor scratches, marks and bruises. Sticking to her plan of moving slowly probably meant she had used more nervous energy than physical, but she still felt quite drained.

The tower was just below her, perhaps two hundred yards, maybe even less. Her first thought was to make a dash for it, zig zagging from side to side to avoid any paintballs, just like they did in the old cowboy films. There could only be about twenty yards of clear ground around the tower and as far as she could see it was an open doorway: no door to stop and open. Surely she could do it.

But they could be sitting and waiting, watching the doorway. Mrs Harris had assured her that they didn't know where she was heading. Could she be trusted? Probably not. Since the start of the game people had avoided answering her questions or lied to her, why would the woman be any different?

The sun would be going down in a while. She would wait until dusk, carefully circle the tower looking for the hunters and, if there was no sign of them, make a dash for the door. The plan would also give her time to rest. With ears and eyes straining for anything out of the ordinary she waited.

Splat! The peace was shattered by a paintball hitting the tree above her spattering yellow paint over her head and shoulders. "Shit!" She cried, flinging herself to the ground. A desperate scan of her immediate surroundings revealed the only option, a low stone wall behind her. It wasn't ideal but it would have to do. Scrambling up the slight incline she soon reached the base of the wall. As she leaped over, a second ball hit the top of the wall spraying yellow dye into the air. "Fuck!" They're getting closer, she thought, "stay low and keep behind the wall." But then, before she had time to move, she felt it.

"Ahhh..." Instinctively rubbing the area from where the pain originated resulted in wet, blue fingers. Dye. She'd been hit.

"Stay there or I'll fire again," the deep voice instructed. Laura remained still, lying on the cool grass rubbing her hip where the ball had struck. A tall figure came into view. "Over here, I got her," he called. A second person jumped over the wall. With her hands bound behind her Laura could make no effort to cover herself. Two pairs of eyes slowly travelled back and forth along the length of her naked body, before settling on the area between her legs.

A strong hand gripped her upper arm, lifting her from the ground. It was her first opportunity to get a look at her captors. They didn't look like hunters. Weren't they supposed to be middle aged and wearing camouflage jackets and trousers, peaked caps and boots? Where were the beards and beer bellies? These two were probably late twenties, fit and quite good looking. The T-shirts and shorts didn't match the hunter image, leaving her feeling short changed, her fantasy let down.

"Well, well. Look what we caught; a real pretty one this time." The taller one had a similar accent to Mrs Harris. Were 'the boys' her sons? He moved behind her and gripped both arms, pulling her elbows together and forcing out her breasts while the other stood before her admiring them. As soon as he moved toward her she panicked.

"Oh no, don't you touch me. You'll be sorry." Ignoring her threats he cupped and fondled the soft flesh on offer.

"We caught you so we can do what we like with you. That's the rules," he said, as he began pinching and twisting the tender nipples."

"Let go of me!" She screamed, desperately trying to shake herself free.

"Got spirit too." The second one added. "Hard little nipples, this is turning her on." Laura's desperate struggling turned to blindly kicking out at the person behind her. "We'll need the collar, hold onto her." Her burning nipples welcomed the break as he rummaged in his rucksack. The heavy duty dog collar fit snugly around her neck and a couple of feet of heavy chain dangled against her chest. As her wrists were lifted she had no option but to bend forward. Her breasts swung freely beneath her. Two hands pushed her head down forcing her to her knees. A foot stood on the chain, holding her cheek against the ground.

Unable to raise her head or move her arms she was powerless to prevent what she knew was coming. She felt the fingers slide over her raised buttocks before exploring between her legs. She inhaled deeply as the fingers spread her, probing and arousing. "She's soaking, she wants it." The voice behind her announced.

"Don't you fucking dare," she screamed into the ground, "I warned you."

Despite her best efforts to avoid it, the natural reactions of her body took over. The fingers left her, only to be replaced, seconds later, by the blunt head of a cock. Strong hands gripped her hips before pulling her back. He slid easily into the warm opening.

She closed her eyes. Fear, shame and lust fought for supremacy. Then guilt presented itself, wasn't she supposed to have begged? Pleaded with them to leave her alone, bombarded them with all sorts of dire threats? Well, at least enough to pacify her conscience.

The tension in the chain eased. A hand grabbed her hair, roughly pulling her head back. Her mouth was not to be spared either. The two worked in unison, sliding in and out of her with ease. What was happening to her disgusted her; she was being raped. But beyond the disgust she felt the fear. Fear that her body would once again betray her. Already she could feel the stirrings of an unwanted orgasm.

"Swap round, I want to finish in her mouth." The order came from behind. As they both withdrew Laura felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness. The cool breeze drawing unwanted attention to the abused openings. The respite was short lived. The renewed pounding was almost welcomed and she opened her mouth, ready to finish the task started between her legs. She could taste herself on the hard shaft as it plunged into her mouth. As if planned in advance the gush of salty cream hit the back of her mouth just as she felt the thrusting stop and the other pulsing organ deposit its load deep inside her.

They had both withdrawn long before her body stopped quivering as she came down from the traitorous orgasm she so desperately craved and only feebly fought against. She wasn't sure if the few minutes rest were for her benefit or theirs. Either way she was grateful for them. Eventually the tall one spoke.

"We'd better be getting her back. Watch her while I get her stuff." She watched as he moved off toward the tower, grateful that at least she would be dressed for the walk back. When her clothes were stuffed into the rucksack, along with the pawn and her key, it soon became obvious that her gratitude had been misplaced. As she watched, an odd thought occurred to her. This was the closest she had come to earning a pawn, in fact it was the first time she had even seen one.

"Can't I get dressed?"

"Of course not. You didn't make it did you." As he spoke he pulled a length of rope from the rucksack, fed one end through the ring in the front of her collar, passed it between her legs and tied it to the link between her handcuffs.

"Just to make sure you keep up," he said, giving her a brief demonstration. Tension on the rope made her bend forward as the rope slid through the ring. Her hands were pulled tightly against her buttocks and the coarse twine chafed between her legs.

She had every intention of keeping up.

15

The long, miserable walk back provided ample opportunity for Laura to reflect on what had happened. Unable to wipe the rapidly drying slime from her face provided a constant reminder of her shame. The salty taste lingered in her mouth and an abundance of warm, mixed juice's leaked from between her legs. Once the elation of her orgasm became a distant memory anxiety and self disgust monopolized her thoughts. She felt violated and used. After all she had been raped, hadn't she? Is there such a thing as consensual rape? In the normal world she would seek revenge, report it to the authorities and see 'the boys' pay for their actions. In 'the game' however, in the make believe realm, she knew there was no such redress. The people she was dealing with had different moral values and lived by 'the rules'. It was her own fault anyway, she had run off naked knowing that she may be caught. She hadn't given a thought to the consequences, she didn't think she needed to; it just seemed like a bit of fun, a dare.