Fair Game

I still don't really know why I signed up ... again. The first time I went I desperately needed the money; now I've got a steady office job and although I don't have a boyfriend, my life feels pretty settled. So why did I come back to Fair Game?

In Fair Game, a woman, the 'prey', is paid £5,000 to be released in an area of woodland in a remote part of England; that goes up to £10,000 if she safely makes it across a small river not too far away. However, ten minutes after her release a 'hunter' will set out to catch her -- and if he does the woman is, well erm ... fair game.

It's up to the hunter to pick my outfit, based on his preference, or fantasy, or fetish. This will be my third time as prey. The first time I had to wear some strange schoolgirl outfit: pleated skirt, regulation-issue white knickers, no bra and a very thin white blouse, which in a warm summer drizzle left little to imagination.

The second time I wore a specially adapted military overall -- all camouflage colours, but with the crotch area opened up so that my black panties were clearly visible underneath. The front of the overall was held together by velcro, giving the hunter easy access to all areas that a woman normally wants to keep covered.

This time, as I entered the preparation room, I was told I was going to be dressed as an office girl. During the preparation, which was just as embarrassing as I remembered from last time, a man told me to strip completely naked while facing him at all times. As I finished removing my bra and panties, he approached me to check whether I was shaved as instructed. He gently touched my legs, checked my armpits and slightly spread my lips down below. "Perfect", he mumbled.

Then, again under his watchful eye, I had to wear the outfit laid out for me. I started by covering up all the important bits and put on the sexy black bra and panties. Then a thin white blouse, a short, tight black skirt and black jacket. Finishing off the outfit, I put on the black stockings and heels -- great for running through the forest...

I also remembered the humiliating procedure that I was about to undergo next as the man approached me with a small bottle with a rubber nozzle. While asking me to bend over, he pulled up my skirt, held my panties to one side and skilfully used the nozzle to apply lubricant inside me, first the front and then the back -- as if there was any doubt about what was going to happen to me.

Next, I was asked to leave the preparation room through a door that led to a cage where I came eye to eye with my hunter. He was tall and muscular and was dressed in a military outfit; he must have been in his mid-30s. I bet he's a former squaddie with some sort of grudge against office ladies -- and I was going to be his victim!

Now, it was time for me to be released. "Good luck!" the hunter said to me, although it sounded more like "good look" in his broad, northern English accent. I'd need it, I knew I'd need it. In ten minutes, the hunt would be on.

As the cage opens, I run into the forest. As soon as I'm out of sight, I decide to veer slightly to the left; walking in a straight line would be too obvious. Easier said than done, the dense undergrowth of brambles and nettles -- as well as my high heels -- makes it difficult to advance quickly.

As I get closer to the river, I see that the landscape ahead of me suddenly becomes much more open, still not easy to run through, but easier for the hunter to spot his prey. As I reach the edge of the forest, I see on my right that my hunter has also just reached the open terrain. From a distance, I see him disappear into the forest for just a few seconds and then come back.

He's coming towards me as he keeps doing his mini-expeditions into the forest, and I realise that my hiding place is too close to the edge of the forest. I'll have to retreat to find a better hiding place -- and quickly! Moving back, I see a better hiding place, away from the forest edge, but the ground is covered in twigs and leaves, and it'll be hard to get there without making a noise.

A sudden gust of wind causes rustling in the trees; I have to go now. But the wind stops as suddenly as it started. I'm stuck. I keep going as I know he's near. Then suddenly my foot slips, causing the cracking of twigs I was desperately trying to avoid. I can hear him coming. My instinct tells me to run, though my brain knows it's futile. As he grabs me from behind, all I can hear is: "gotcha!"

I nearly fall over as he drags me backwards, while restraining me with one hand on my breast and the other in my crotch -- my skirt already having lot its purpose of covering my underwear. After he's moved me to a secluded spot not far away, he removes his backpack, which turns out to be a thin, foldable mattress. Well, it something I suppose... On a previous occasion I was simply handcuffed to a tree branch while my hunter had his wicked way with me.

"Lie down," he commands, "you're gonna love this." While I'm still on my knees he already pushes me on my back. "Let's have a good look at those tits first," he whispers as he rips open my blouse and runs his hand over my chest, removing one breast from the cup of my bra.

"Lovely," he smiles, "for the next bit, I'll let you do the honours, love. Lift your skirt up and pull down your knickers!" It's as if he can read my mind; I don't mind a man undressing me for sex, but I always find it embarrassing having to it myself. Reluctantly, I do as I'm told.

I'm visibly blushing as I slowly pull down my panties, which are clearly wet from (mainly) the lubricant. "Looks like you're ready," he laughs as he briefly plays with my clit before slipping a finger inside me, rubbing my G-spot as he moves his hand up and down. It's probably all the foreplay I'm going to get.

As expected, he quickly pulls his finger out, unzips his trousers and pulls out his (larger than expected) manhood. "That's what you'll be getting today, love! What d'ya reckon?" he says as he kneels over me and grabs my nipples, indicating that a witty answer would not be appreciated. "It's huge, I'm not sure if I can handle that," I say hesitatingly but truthfully.

"Haha, clever girl with your fancy clothes! I bet you haven't had a proper shag in ages," he says, again not far from the truth. He positions himself between my legs; I don't resist. "God, those legs open up easily," he laughs, "you must really be gagging for it!" I'm blushing, which I'm sure is exactly what he wants; it's my embarrassment that turns him on.

As he enters me, I try to keep quiet, but can't help a soft, suppressed noise. "You see, I know you'd have lots of fun. Always the same with you posh birds, stand-offish until they get their knickers down. Come on love, talk dirty to me, say you love to have that fanny of yours ravaged," he says with a grin as he thrusts deep inside me. "I love to ... hmmm ... have my fanny ... ravaged," I say barely audibly.

It's obvious how much my embarrassment of having to say those words excites him. He speeds up as he bends his upper body forward, rubbing his chest over my naked breasts. I know he wouldn't need long -- and neither would I to be honest. I don't know what the adrenaline rush of being chased does to me, but every nerve in my body is enjoying my 'ordeal'.

"Come on you dirty girl, make me come inside you," he shouts. "Tell me you want my load deep inside your pussy!" In an even softer voice, I repeat: "I want ... your load..." but before I can finish the sentence my obvious embarrassment sends both of us over the edge. As every muscle in my body contracts and I struggle to catch my breath, I continue: "deep inside ... ahhh ... my pussy!"

For at least a minute he continues to lie on top of me panting as we both recover and enjoy the moment. Then he lifts his body up, he kisses me and says: "You were perfect, love, just perfect." As he pulls out, he helps me stand up, but in the meantime pulls my panties all the way down. "I think I'll keep those as a souvenir," he says with a cheeky smile as I'm beginning to feel his sperm run down my leg.

We kiss goodbye as I prepare to make my way down to the river where a car is waiting for me. Somehow, I feel I still have to try to look dignified as I walk away despite my torn blouse and my sticky thighs. I'll never sign up for Fair Game ever again, I tell myself ... again.