Hunter and Prey Ch. 07: Vixen

Swoosh. Thwack.

Oh, fuck me, that hurt! It's like a sharp sting followed by a deeper persistent throbbing, painting a stripe on the back of my thighs.

"One," I squeak out a moment later after he gives me a meaningful stare.

Swoosh. Thwack.

Oh, sweet mother of God, he hit the same place. "Two," I scream. My traitorous pussy starts drooling for more, and I have to squeeze my legs tight again in embarrassment.

"Widen your stance. Now," his stern voice says behind me. And I'm rewarded for my slow response by two sharp hits to either side of my inner thighs.

"Three! Fuck... Four!"

He starts to vary the location, and strength of the swings. Some of them feel like they are burning in my soul, and others are stinging irritations. My thighs and ass are on fire, I feel like I've been burnt with a brand.

Tears are running down my face by the time I reach nine, have received an extra strike for swearing without permission. My legs are trembling from holding them open and my hands have a stranglehold on the rope. I'm breathless and my pussy lips are puffy red, begging to be fucked.

He's expertly held me near the edge of an orgasm, but with the balance skewed too far towards pain for me to really sink into the warm sensations. I finally get the difference between pleasure punishment and punishment punishment.

I hate him a lot right now... and I want to beg him to fuck me and take away this mad craving that's growing inside me.

He's standing there watching every thought flitter across my face; his expression surprisingly unreadable. He steps closer and his hands run across my skin, poking, and probing as if I'm some piece of meat. Some touches make me wince, others gasp, while others make me grit my teeth as he sensually massages particularly sore areas.

When he's satisfied that I'm not injured - aside from the marks he's chosen to give me - he unclips my dress, and then disappears from view again. I hear a familiar humming before I feel myself being lowered back to the ground.

With almost a sob of relief, I collapse forward and savour the feel of muscles finally allowed to relax. I suck in a deep breath that tastes of sawdust; it's divine.

I hear scraping across the floor, like a chair being dragged over, but I'm too lost in the sensations I'm feeling to care.

"Sit up, we're not done yet," Mr S says cheerfully.

I sit up in disbelief; there's more? My pussy twinges and a tiny part of me wonders if a reward comes now. I glance quickly at his crotch, but the tailoring of his black suit trousers is too good at hiding things.

"Are you ready to apologise?" He asks, sitting on a wooden chair in front of me, leaning back, completely relaxed.

I don't know why, but I smile at the question. Like fucking hell I am. My ass however is starting to protest my suicidal thinking, as I move irritably trying to find some way to sit comfortably without everything hurting. Perhaps I should apologise, a small voice whispers desperately; I have a three-hour drive back home tomorrow, all sitting.

But I've clearly missed my window of leniency as he grabs the rope and pulls me roughly towards him. I inelegantly half slide, half crawl, ending up on my knees in front of him. I'm breathing heavily and can't help staring resentfully up at him.

His eyes wander leisurely down my sweaty body, and it feels as if the wire and chains around my nipples are molten hot; I want to rip them off, they're throbbing insanely. I try to sit down to relax myself but quickly change my mind as the throbbing from the caning turns to screaming; I go back to kneeling awkwardly.

His evil smile is back, "I do love that stubborn streak. Sitting comfortably?" He asks with a smile as he pushes me into sitting down on my ass, digging the fox tail plug into me deeper. I hiss before I'm able to clench my teeth.

He leans forward until I can feel his hot breath on my face, "Struggling makes it all the sweeter for me... and I think you'll find 'sadistic' doesn't come close to what I plan for you."

He leans back in his chair and continues, "We're going to play another game, Kitten. You're going to come up with 8 words starting with S that describe all my 'glowing' qualities," his sardonic grin is back. "If I'm satisfied with the word, you get a treat; if I'm not... well, you'll get punished, obviously, and then have to try harder, won't you?"

His words travel straight to my pussy and pull all the strings to make me squirm for different reasons. I'm back to swimming in lust again: mentally and literally. I try not to think about the wet mess I'm making on my dress.

"Come sit here," he pats his lap invitingly. With a burning face I stand up and pause, looking at him.

You'd imagine my pause is because I'm regretting my choice and thinking how I can get out of this? At the start of this journey, I would have concluded the same thing. Turns out we're both wrong. I pause to stop myself from jumping on his lap and begging for him to take me, anyway he wants. I pause to hide how eager I am for this. Common, rational sense went out the window the second I met this man.

I sit across his lap, arranging my tail out of the way, trying to ignore the pain of sitting.

It's such an intimate position to be in. His physical presence wraps around me and it's hard to breath or keep looking in his eyes. My biggest consolation is I can finally feel his raging hard-on pressed against my stinging ass. That steels my nerves and makes me immeasurably satisfied.

I look up, and his green-eyes are so close. His hands hover nearby but do not touch until I nod, I'm ready. With a hand guiding my back and another on my chest pushing, he bends me backwards until my head and chest are hanging off his legs.

The blood rushes straight to my head and it takes a moment for me to get comfortable in this position. That's when I feel his hands pull my dress open and pry my legs apart, and I realise this position gives him uninterrupted access to things that are begging to be touched. My breath hitches for a moment at the thought.

"Shall we get started? I'll give you a moment to think of your first word."

My head is pounding from hanging upside down and I go into full panic mode. S... words beginning with S... Fuck! The only words in my head are the ones I've spoken on repeat: sadistic, sarcastic, sardonic ...

"Times up. Your word?" His tone is solicitous and curious. Asshole!

"S... sa... satisfactory." The second the word leaves my lips I cringe. What the fuck brain? That's the best you can come up with?

"Satisfactory... satisfactory..." His tone gets more outraged each time he says it, and before I have time to smile at annoying him, he starts raining hard slaps on my pussy.

OMG.

My brain short-circuits as waves of conflicting feelings wash through me, and I'm writhing on his lap uncontrollably. I feel catapulted towards an orgasm at breakneck speeds.

"If you cum, I swear to god that you will not walk for a week," his angry voice grates.

It feels like trying to pull a runaway horse back from the edge, but I manage to hold myself from going over as I scream, "Sublime!"

His hand stops in mid-air. I suck in a deep breath and start rattling off words in a desperate attempt of stop myself from climaxing, which I want SO FUCKING BAD right now!

"Sincere... s... splendid ... sexy!"

I'm terrified if he touches me again I'll lose it, so I keep rambling, "Suave... sophisticated...." As I shift in my desperation, I feel his hard cock twitch against my back... "sizable." I finally hear his pleased laughter and I draw in a jagged breath of relief.

"Much better. Just one more word Kitten," he adds as he dips a finger into my soaking pussy and swirls it around until all you can hear is wet squelching noises.

There's no denying how much I'm enjoying all of this; the dress under me is no doubt soaking, and it's probably seeped through onto his trousers. I bite my lip in mortification even as I thrust my hips up for more.

He pulls his finger out, "Your final word?"

I moan in frustration and need, and the word slips out before I can comprehend its implications, "Sir."

I can feel the satisfaction radiating out of him, even though I can't see his face. Part of my throbbing head knows this moment is significant; I can feel I've taken the first step to free falling off that cliff.

His firm hands slowly help me sit up, and he cradles me in his lap as a stinking headache hits me from all the time spent hanging upside-down, and all the pent-up sexual frustration. His hand is rubbing in soothing circles until he can see I'm feeling better.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he teases. I get enough energy to glare at him. His smile gets wider as he adds, "Now be a dear and stand up so your audience can applaud you, and the real fun starts."

*****

His words are like an icy cold bucket thrown on me, and I'm reminded of those moments in horror films where the character turns around to find the monster is right behind him.

I stand up slowly and spin around to the wall of curtains that should be behind me. Except of course they're not there. The lights slowly come up and a sea of faces greet me; I'm standing on a stage. The sound of shuffling I had heard earlier were people clearly filing into the theatre.

With huge eyes I spin around and finally notice a giant screen, live projecting a close-up camera feed. I stare in shock at the ravaged image of myself filling the screen: flushed cheeks, my makeup has run, and I look a sight. Sweat is glistening down my breasts and my nipples look bruised against the gold wire, they're so flushed. Surprisingly, my Fox ears are still in place - if at a jaunty angle - and as I spin, I catch a glimpse of the tail. The blood-red dress is a rumpled mess acting as a backdrop for the wet, lusty, needy creature I am right now.

This is what a desperate wild animal looks like, I think in shock.

The audience breaks into deafening applause as Colin steps on stage and shouts into the mic, "I give you our Fox, ladies and gentlemen."

*****

Colin is talking to the audience about the hunt, but I don't hear a word. I can't move. I'm mortified that people saw my humiliating punishment; I'm speechless that not only are they not judging me, but they are clearly excited by it; and quite simply, every brush of fabric against my skin, or movement of air, reminds me how horny I am. It's a painful reminder that Mr S left me in a puddle of need and didn't give me the reward he promised.

The culprit in question steps towards me, and my suppressed anger just blossoms to the forefront. "You," I growl and lunge for his throat with my still bound hands.

But once again Mr S is one step ahead of me, and uses the rope, and my forward momentum, to enfold me in his grip so I can't hit him. I call him every swear word I can think of instead.

"As you can see, Ladies and Gentlemen, there's plenty of fight left in her," Colin adds loudly to drown out my cursing. The audience laughs appreciatively; the sense of anticipation in the room is building.

"Now, now, what a foul mouth. And to think we'd made such a breakthrough earlier with your manners," Mr S says dryly, before whispering in my ear for only me to hear. "Don't worry Kitten, once everyone's had their taste, I'll have the last piece of you."

The deep, seductive promise in his voice stops me in mid-curse. I'm only partially aware of Ryan walking towards us with a small box in his hands.

Ryan stops a short distance away, an oddly thoughtful expression on his face. I'd like to think Mr S lets go of me reluctantly, but that's probably my ego speaking.

"Now if you'll put away those claws for a moment, I'll let you free... and then you're welcome to use any and all means necessary to escape from me... and everyone else," and his arm sweeps the excited crowd.

I gulp; holy fuck, surely it's not all of them! My eyes are huge as I nod distractedly, and Mr S begins to unknot the rope from my wrists. I wince as I rub feeling back into them, and mindlessly start walking towards Ryan.

"What does the S stand for again?" Mr S calls provocatively after me.

With a sweet smile, I turn back and reply, "Asshole. With a capital S."

His mocking laughter caresses my back all the way until I'm in front of Ryan.

Ryan doesn't say a word and just motions with his head for me to follow. My body is thrumming with the excitement and tension in the room; the crowd's energy is electrifying.

*****

Ryan stops in front of a door and turns to me. His subdued mood has finally eaten through my excitement, and I'm terrified I have offended him.

But before I can say anything he says, "I'm sorry Fluffy. You were right, I've been selfish. It made me insanely jealous to see you with him; I just wanted you for myself... but, well, I lost perspective on what that means for you just starting to learn more about yourself. It's not fair to stop you from finding someone who can be to you what Jess is to me. You do deserve more."

I have to look down quickly to blink away tears as he talks. I feel both heartbroken and relieved; the tension between the two feelings is a painful combination that makes it hard to breathe.

The words "be what Jess is to me" tears a hole through my soul. Does it make me a horrible person to find out that secretly I wanted him to put me first? I despise myself for the thought because I adore Jess and I only want to see her happy, but the heart can be a traitorous bitch sometimes.

And yet in complete opposition to that sense of loss, I feel at the same time a weight of guilt is lifted from my shoulders as I finally realise I'm not happy with being anyone's side-line plaything.

And then I loop back to the depressing thought that it feels like I've crossed a point of no return with Ryan; I cringe as I wonder how awkward it will be with them now.

And so I yo-yo through emotional pain, slowly unravelling until I feel his arms wrapping around me and him murmuring, "Shhhhh... it's OK. Talk to me."

I blubber out something about ruining our friendship, completely unable to talk to the romantic attachment, and he hugs me tighter before pulling back and cupping my chin so he can force me to look at him.

"We love you and you will always be welcomed with open arms - in a week, three months, ten years - whenever. I told you there were no strings attached to this weekend, just a chance for you to expand your horizons. And I meant it. Just ignore me when I'm a possessive dick. We just want you to be happy."

Ryan quirks a smile, "Besides, if you think Jess is ever going to stop French kissing you and fondling your cunt in your sleep, you're clearly dreaming; that woman has no boundaries.

"I also plan to have more of this sweet ass in the future if you'll let me," he says provocatively running his fingers over my breasts, down my waist and eventually cupping my ass and pulling me forcefully towards him. I can feel his hard cock through his tight pants.

The movement makes me wince in pain, and I'm reminded about a certain green-eyed asshole that I can't stop thinking about.

"Oops, I forgot about your stripes," Ryan says with false remorse, the shadow of a smile playing in the corner of his lips tells me he's clearly lying.

He leans in close to whisper, "You seemed to really love being beaten. I clearly was too gentle with you. I'll remember that in the future."

A shiver of happy anticipation runs through me as he pulls away, a playful smile on his face. But it's his teasing more than anything that makes me feel better, a sense that things are returning to a sense of normality. I return the smile, grateful to have him and Jess in my life.

Colin's words from our hike start playing through my head, "Don't let anyone decide what your life can be.... Life's too short to second guess yourself all the time. Just pick a direction and go with it."

Ryan interrupts my thoughts. "So... you ready to get fucked six ways to Sunday? Because it's almost time," and he glances meaningfully at the door.

I can hear the buzz of excited people through the wood, and my heart starts to beat faster. I feel free as a bird right now; I am SO fucking ready to dive off this cliff edge. Sink or soar, right?

Ryan holds out the box he was carrying; it's got coloured metal disks. I blink at him blankly and he groans, "Please tell me you were listening to the rules of the hunt?" He rolls his eyes dramatically, clearly mocking me. So, of course I stick my tongue out at him.

A familiar dangerous look crosses his face and my blood starts boiling. "Watch it, Vixen. I'm one of those keen hunter's and I may be inclined to let you suffer your ignorance for that kind of insolence."

I'm tempted to push my luck, but my still throbbing ass finally wins a battle. "Yes, Sir," I murmur demurely.

He grabs the chains connecting my nipple jewellery and tugs me closer. With a squeak of pain, I step forward.

"Sorry, Sir!" I cry.

"Better," he says smiling. "Now pay attention; this is the hugely abbreviated version which I won't repeat again." He points at the coloured disks; there are small stacks for each colour.

"Green is sex - that's any form of sexual acts - with one person or one object; red is directed pain, pure and simple; purple is sex and pain; blue is rough sex with up to ten members of one hunting party; white is submission, most likely with humiliation; and silver is hunter's choice of all colours even if a disk of that colour isn't chosen.

"You need to pick five disks of any colour and whomever catches you will take the disk of choice and do that to you. It's a bit complicated on etiquette in a scene and I don't have time to go through it all now, you will just have to suffer a measure of disadvantage for not listening when you should have. Essentially, as per your agreement, they will not ask for consent first and you cannot deny them what they demand. But they will follow the list of limits you gave. If they cross that line, you are to shout or signal your safe word and someone will help you."

Ryan pauses to give me time to nod my understanding. "Choose, quickly. Time is running out."

A familiar tremble of trepidation, excitement and hunger ripples through me and I reach out to choose my five disks. Ryan's face is neutral, but I can tell he's surprised by some choices.

He continues, pointing at the last colour on display, a single gold disk, "This last disk isn't a choice, you will wear it in addition to the five disks. This is the ultimate prize.

"To the hunter it means when all other five disks are collected, and they then catch you before time is up, they get the gold prize. That's you spending a day with the winner, agreeing to do anything they want, barring anything on your hard limits list, of course.

"If the time runs out and the Fox is able to evade the Hunters and doesn't lose all five disks, you are then able to gift that to a hunter of your choice and they are obliged to spend a day doing everything you want."

My ears perk up at that last point. Humm... my brain starts running through options for that gold disk while Ryan quickly attaches the disks to my chains. When I hit the perfect idea, a wicked smile breaks over my face and I resolve to win this hunt.

Ryan's laugh snaps me out of my evil schemes. "That's my girl. Should I tell 'Mr S' now that he should tread lightly?" He teases. I laugh alongside him, even as I blush at his correct guess.

A bell rings and Ryan's energy suddenly changes to coiled excitement. "Times up, Foxy," he whispers as the door is opened from the outside.

I freeze as the muted sound becomes a roar. All I can see ahead of me is a screaming sea of people. I feel Ryan's hands on my back in warm reassurance, a moment before he pushes me into the madness.