Fox Hunt

Prologue

On the face of it, I was just having a pleasant jog. Here I was, running through the gorgeous grounds of the Kinloch-Strathinch estate. Nothing unusual, I often run a few laps around our club track after work.

This afternoon I was running through some of the most glorious countryside I had ever laid eyes on. Rather out of character, I was not paying a single bit of attention to the wide vistas around me. Instead of relaxing and soaking in the pleasant surroundings, I felt vulnerable out in the open and all I could think about was to get to cover. That is why I scanned for, and headed towards a wooded area up ahead.

Before you think I'm agoraphobic, I must stress that I had very good reasons to be wary of standing out against the expansive scenery. There were two reasons in fact. Two packs of hounds were on my trail, and as a consequence, they were never far from my mind.

Not that I panicked, in fact my breathing was deep but regular. I enjoy running and I'm good at it. The endorphins were already cruising through my veins. They gave me an all over tingle and I'm sure they are the reason I get horny from running.

My body is toned and men say that I carry just enough fat to be curvy. With the notable exception of my breasts which are rather large for my frame. I am quite a bit taller than most women I know, at close to 180cm.

I was running at a comfortable pace with my breasts bobbing as I bounced over grass and heather. Oh, did I mention I was naked?

Not that I felt naked. Even without a stitch, I looked fairly respectable, if a bit peculiar. I was covered from head to toe in body paint. Truth be told, I was rather artistically and convincingly painted. The actual dyes were of a high quality as well. No matter how much I perspired, I could not shift or smudge its red and white artwork.

I cast a quick glance down in appreciation of the meticulous brush strokes. I was used to seeing red and white tones when looking at myself, since underneath the paint, freckles cover my pale skin. My coat of paint was mainly red, but the artist didn't need to use any dyes for the bushy triangle between my legs. The striking red curls were all mine, the same colour as the long hair which flowed out behind my head as I ran.

Not for the first time, I wondered how I had gotten myself into this situation. How did I, a young Irish woman, end up streaking across the Highlands of Scotland? Perhaps I should have started this story at the beginning. Maybe as far back as when I was growing up on a farm in County Cork.

Those years did a lot to shape my current social life, as I have always felt close to animals. Not that I have lots of pets, the closeness is more in a spiritual sense. My boss and friend Siobhan is very similar in this respect. She and I have taken this shared passion to role playing games, where people play as animals. She does the people bit, and I do the animal bit.

That gives a little bit of background to why I had joined a fox hunt on this beautiful estate. Of course that's not unusual as such. Foxes have been hunted for countless years. That was the gruesome bloody kind that is fortunately now outlawed. This chase would not end with the hounds killing the fox by tearing it to shreds. At least I had a fervent hope it would not. You see, I was the fox in this hunt.

Let's go back to last week at work when Siobhan and I were engaged in a far more mundane meeting, and I was in much more conventional attire.

Hunting for sales

Siobhan started the meeting in her usual manner.

"Hi gang, let's get started. Next Thursday and Friday we're in Glasgow for the Show."

This was not news.

"Shelagh and I will be on the stand."

Everybody else's face showed some relief, as it would only be Siobhan and I who would be spending two days on our feet with forced smiles.

"Shelagh, what you need from the rest?"

I listed what we would need to take to the stand. Glossy brochures, business card scanner, pens with our logo and a thousand other things. Siobhan made sure all logistics were minutely prepared and we were all clear. The meeting broke up and everybody headed back to their desks. I dallied until I could talk to Siobhan alone.

"I spoke to Philip and Rosheen. They are in Scotland the week after the show."

They are a blonde couple which whom Siobhan and I share membership of the Aristotle club. Philip is an out and out hunk. He is tall, strong and quiet. Rosheen is more extrovert and almost as small as Siobhan. She has a dirty laugh and an even dirtier mind. Aristotle is a pony play club in an enclosed race course south of Dublin. Philip and I play horses while Rosheen and Siobhan are trainers.

"Fantastic, we'll catch up the weekend after."

That Wednesday Siobhan and I arrived in Scotland and dropped our luggage off at the hotel. We took the bus to the conference centre to help set up the stand. As we walked up to our patch we saw a few people already setting up the posters and lights. One of them towered head and shoulders above the rest.

He was dressed in camouflaged combat fatigues and was helping with a radio display. As he turned our way, we immediately recognised him as our friend. We shouted his name as one and ran up to jump him in a very unladylike bear hug. Josh is a Marine Corporal Radio specialist. He is even taller than Philip but unlikely to be mistaken for blonde. He is as black as the night. He carries himself with an almost matter of fact confidence and subdued strength. His gorgeous eyes smile as readily as his animated grin and his wide torso forms a classic triangle with his cute button tight ass. Due to an almost fanatical cycling habit, his long legs are very strong. Josh had been a visitor to our Dublin office to teach us about the radio set on display. We seduced him to visit Aristotle where he fitted right in. While he only played one day as a horse, he is certainly hung like one.

Eight o'clock sharp the next morning, Siobhan and I walked onto the finished stand. Josh was there; immaculately dressed in his fatigues, ready to demonstrate the military radio while we would handle the civilian set. The two days at the exhibition dragged out. We got sore feet and tired from smiling and chatting. When I wanted some fresh air and restart my circulation, I took a tour of the show floor. Most displays were fairly similarly with glossy posters and shiny apparatus. Yawnsville.

One was different. It featured large pictures of majestic Scottish landscapes and the stand was staffed by an attractive couple in running gear. As I passed, I made eye contact with the male runner. He had chiselled good looks and the clearest grey eyes.

"Aren't you meant to be in the gym?"

From their painful smiles I could tell I wasn't the first one to crack that lame joke.

"Sorry, but you do stand out."

To show their technical angle, the woman showed me a display on her left forearm. It was slightly larger than a smart phone and had a curved glass front. She explained its workings.

"We offer a 21st century orienteering experience. No maps or punch cards, just this indicator. The computer keeps track."

She showed me the master console which unsurprisingly indicated a dot in the middle of Glasgow. The setup sparked my interest and we discussed it in more detail. They introduced themselves as Laird and Countess of Kinloch-Strathinch, but quickly added that I was to call them Doug and Heather.

Doug was less involved with the technical side of things so he asked if I was a runner. I suppose a natural question, given the shape I'm in and I confirmed I was.

"You seen those new vests with hyper-wicking backs?"

I turned bright red and stumbled to get a reply out since I love to run naked or as near as. He curled his mouth in a half smile and raised his eyebrows.

"You have running gear, no?"

I turned an even deeper scarlet and pretended that my phone was vibrating. I mouthed a sorry and pointed to it as I started an animated conversation with nobody while briskly walking back. I shared my embarrassment with Siobhan who just laughed.

"Just as well you didn't mention hooves and bridle as your gear."

On the Friday at the after show party, Siobhan and I tried a few sips of various Scotch Whiskys and they soon relaxed us. Due to my height and hair colour, it didn't take Doug very long to spot us and Heather and he made a bee line for us.

They told Siobhan about their high-tech orienteering. Siobhan, as always the businesswoman, asked if the course was profitable. Heather shook her head.

"It's just a half hobby. Doug is a chemical engineer. Food additives. I lecture Electronics at Highlands and Islands Uni."

Now it was Heather's turn to satisfy her curiosity as she turned to me.

"Why didn't you want to talk about your gear?"

Siobhan giggled and I shot a glowering sideways look to keep her quiet. I dreaded the Whisky in her, but when I saw her dirty grin, I knew it was too late.

"Shelagh runs mostly starkers. At best she's a horse, and not for Pantomime."

I thought they'd be shocked but Doug smiled.

"You're a pony girl."

I sighed inwardly and capitulated. I gave them a full account of what the Aristotle club was all about. They were very interested in our stud farming. Doug asked if this part was stylised. We exchanged glances and admitted that we mostly ended up having sex, either in the stud farm or after. The club mixed pony play with swinging. I saw Heather give her husband's hand a little squeeze.

"How long you guys in Scotland?"

We admitted that our itinerary was as unglamorous as a weekend camping with Josh, Philip and Rosheen. Doug offered an alternative.

"Much better idea. How about the five of you visit our little country retreat to try our course?"

Neither Siobhan nor I would normally be so impulsive, but the few drams and the reassurance of the boys to watch over us piqued our curiosity. A quick phone call to Philip and Rosheen confirmed that we were all up for it.

The Sporting Estate

The little country retreat turned out to be a huge mansion with dozens of guest rooms. Exhausted from trade show and party, I dropped my clothes in a pile and sunk away in a mountain of eiderdown and satin sheets to sleep like a baby.

The Saturday morning I felt refreshed and ready for new pursuits. The smell of breakfast wafted into my room. I had a shower and found a silk robe on a hook behind the door. It felt great next to my skin even though it was a fair bit shorter than I my own. I made a mental note not to pick anything off the floor while people were behind me.

Following the smell down to the morning room, I passed corridors stuffed with highly polished antiques while my feet enjoyed the rich carpets. Down the stairs, I was followed by the eyes of stern portraits all looking uncannily like Doug. I found the rest in the same silks busy tucking in. When we were fed, Heather invited us to her workshop.

"Principle is simple. The GPS unit goes on your arm and position is radioed to others"

Doug had been quiet so far but now added a twist to our orienteering. He picked his words carefully.

"You're not quite alone in your animal play."

The Countess of Kinloch-Strathinch smiled and mockingly rolled her eyes.

"No mincing words, darling. We play as dogs."

This got her a sheepish grin from her husband

"Well yes, my pack is Doug's bollocks and Heather's the bi-bitches."

Rosheen had a slight blonde moment and asked if the stammer in bi-bitches was intentional. Now it was Doug's turn to smile at his spouse's expense.

"Well, remote Scotland has two pastimes. Fishing and fornicating." He paused for effect. "Let's just say that Heather's girls like fishing both banks of the river."

He went on to explain the rest of their plan for the day's hunt. Two packs of horse-led hounds compete to see who can catch the fox. It sounded great fun to me. Looking around the room, I could see that everybody was up for it. Siobhan immediately turned into organising mode, as he often does.

"Josh, Shelagh and Philip are our horses, but we have no gear."

Doug said that one of his pack members had friends who were into pony play. They had two shoulder fitted horse saddles that they were happy to lend us. Rosheen and Siobhan were the smallest and lightest among us, so they were to be the boys' riders. Doug and Heather's packs wanted to stick to dogs, so that only left little old me for the part of the fox.

With the casting settled, I broached the issue of costumes. We explained how we used bridles, leather hooves and butt plug tails for horses. Heather gave us an account of their way.

"We don't use suits because they're too hot to run in. Doug and I use body painting."

Doug asked if we were fine with orienteering naked and I was glad to see that nobody had any problem. The DB and BB packs would be three dogs each, which was how many they were able to rustle up at such short notice. Our hosts would adorn all animals apart from the horses. Rosheen and Siobhan would be body painted in rider outfits. Josh and Rosheen would lead the bi's with Philip and Siobhan guiding the bollocks.

Doug and Heather took us to their art studio, for our decoration. It was a high ceilinged room with gigantic windows. There was a raised plinth in the middle, flooded from three sides by the glorious daylight.

Rosheen is a natural exhibitionist so she was the first to put her silk robe on one of a row of hooks along the wall. Seeming to give off an almost radiant glow in the bright light, she stepped onto the plinth. She stood like a showgirl with legs apart and hands on her hips, pelvis pushed out provocatively. She twirled round slowly to give us all a good look at her petite form.

"Would you like to start on a small canvas?"

Doug and Heather were appreciative of the ice being broken and set to work with their body paint. Since Rosheen's hair colour extends to her pubes, they were blended in with light tan riding breeches. An unbuttoned white shirt with a knot tied on her belly made her resemble a casual horse rider.

Siobhan soon followed. She hung up the silk robe and her brown curls danced around her head as she marched to the plinth. Her even smaller body received a red riding coat which made her look a bit more formal than Rosheen. A few layers of paint went on her large breasts and even after that her dark nipples still stood out like it was a sheer garment. Next, she was adorned with black trousers to match her meticulously groomed pubes. It was extremely well done, with cravat on her neck and a hanky in her breast pocket.

If you were myopic, you could easily mistake my friends for fully clothed, pint-sized Amazonians. It was time to start on animal coats so Doug disrobed to allow her ladyship to turn him into a hunting dog.

As I had seen on their stand, he has a runner's body without being too wiry. I half suppressed a gasp as my eyes slid down to his crotch and I noticed that he sported a set of rather large balls. They were hanging below the head of his all together respectably sized penis. Doug noticed the surprise on my face and winked at me.

"Aye lass, that happens when you wear the kilt a lot."

Heather joined in and chuckled:

"I call them his wrecking balls."

I had to admit that they looked very much like that as his clean shaven sack swung slowly when he stepped up. Heather lovingly painted him all over into a convincing simile of a proud hound. By this time our little ensemble was joined by four more people who had brought two horse shoe shaped shoulder saddles. The Count swapped plinth for palette and did an equally stunning dog rendition on his wife. They cooperated to give the remaining four dogs their painted furs.

Meanwhile, Philip and Josh had hung up their robes. As they walked back to fit the saddles they were tracked by six pairs of dewy females and three pairs of slightly envious males. The bi-bitches weren't the least bit embarrassed and stared intently at the muscular bodies and large penises of our men folk.

By now, I was the only one not in costume and still wearing any kind of clothing. A hush fell over the room when I put the last robe on the hook. I carried my long red hair, freckled skin and red bush with an assertive, tall, almost feline walk to the plinth.

"Shelagh, one hell of a paintable body." Heather sighed.

Both she and Doug set to work to turn me into a vixen. I had never had body paint applied before and it felt really sensual, like a feather massage. Some areas were a bit ticklish but the overall feeling was one of latent sexuality. I could sense from her breathing that Heather was equally aroused as her husband, whose only sign of excitement was that the his penis was now hanging lower than his balls. They managed to control any trembling as they painted carefully. When they were satisfied with my foxy look, it was time to start our new adventure. We all went outside to the back lawn.

Heather clipped on our forearm gadgets and explained the legend of the small map on their displays.

"The green dot is the house, each blue dot is a horse or a dog. The red dot is the fox and the green circle is the lodge."

The rules of the game were simple. The team catching the fox first would win, unless the fox reached the hunting lodge to beat them. I got a five minute head start which I used to full effect by immediately taking off at speed. I had no trouble working out which way I was going and soon settled into a steady jog across the heather. This is how you found me at the beginning of this story.

I thought I'd be clever rather than tire myself out with running at full speed. The large leafy oak trees would block my gadget's view of the sky. This meant that I was unable to navigate directly towards the lodge, but it also meant that no one would see my position on their displays. When I got to the woods, I jumped over some undergrowth and froze dead in my tracks. Across a small clearing was a large stag who regarded me quizzically while chewing his lunch. I admired the majestic animal until it got bored and bolted.

The encounter had cost me precious time, so I quickened my pace northwards. I worked out by dead reckoning that the hunting lodge was a few kilometres up a gentle slope. It turned out I was spot on and pretty soon, I could see the finish through the trees. I was about to accelerate for a final sprint when I saw another majestic sight that made me freeze.

This time it was not a wildlife specimen but a familiar tall black shape with a small tan and white figure on top. I hid behind some bushes and crept closer. As I sneaked along a ridge I confirmed that it was Josh's naked muscular form. I sighed silently in admiration and took a minute to shamelessly stare at the perfectly carved ass on top of his muscular legs, widening out to his broad shoulders which were hidden under the saddle that kept the tan ass and white torso of Rosheen aloft.

I looked dreamingly at his massive penis which hung on him like the Mull of Kintyre. They were looking to my left so I crouched down while tip-toeing to the right along the ridge. As I turned a corner to make a dash for the lodge I nearly fainted from shock as the bush in front of me came alive and Heather stuck a smiling dog face out of it and simply said Woof. I briefly thought of running back down the hill, but her two pack mates had already cut off my retreat. The three bitches took me to the lodge while Heather signalled her cavalry accompaniment in the distinct low tech way of a loud wolf whistle.

The hunting lodge

The front door of the lodge led straight into a large room which looked even larger due to a number of full height mirrors along the walls and a mirrored ceiling. Only the tasteful modern furniture kept it from looking tacky. The room was dominated by a central white raised area just over knee height. As the bitches threw me onto it, I was relieved to find out that it was an oversized mattress. Heather and her pals symbolically imprisoned me in a triangle with their legs forming the sides and a furry pussy on each corner. Heather held my hands above my head while the other two each held a leg.