News Story Ch. 02

I wait several minutes; and then I walk on down the ravine taking cautious peeks around the rocks. It looks clear. The ravine empties into a dry creek bed. I walk down it and realize: I am at the very bottom between two ridges. Anyone is going to see me here from a long way off. I have got to climb out of here. I track back to the rocks and try to climb to the top. At least here, I am mostly out of view from most directions. It takes several minutes, and I slip a few times, but I finally make it to the top. I lay very low behind some brush and look around. It looks okay.

***

I walk guardedly; the trees are very thick here. I can hardly see ten feet in any direction. If I am noticed, I might not be able to get away too easily. I move deliberately. A branch snaps – it is me; It is a small limb. I duck down as low as I can get. I cannot let them see me here. I move again even more deliberately.

There is another small hilltop up ahead; maybe it will offer a lookout point for me. As I slowly pace up the hill I hear some sort of disturbance. I lean down onto the ground as I reach the crest. Down in the hollow is one of the pursuers – he has the girl I just saw. He is dressed just as the first I had seen just a few minutes before: gray pants, black shoes, no shirt and a green vest, black mask covering his entire head. She is on her knees and giving him a blowjob. I stay low in the brush and watch them. She moves rapidly back and forth pulling on his cock. She is so nimble. She rolls her head back and forth as she moves on his shaft. The man looks to be enjoying his treatment.

What a contrast; my mind wanders for a moment. I gave my first blowjob to a guy just after high school graduation. We were both getting ready to go to college. His name was Brendon and he had been one of the school jocks. I had been a quiet girl in high school but at graduation I let my hair grow a bit longer and I begin to dress more girlish. It had an impact.

Unfortunately, it was hardly a moment to remember. It was my nineteenth birthday and he had promised me a night to remember. It took all of about four minutes; and half of that was getting clothes off and putting them back on. As I recollect, that was the full sexual encounter. Brendon was always in a big hurry and this was no exception. He had me suck him for about four strokes before he shoved me down on my back and spread my legs. From there, it took about four more furious strokes with him within me before he finished. That was it. And then he had the nerve to look lovingly into my eyes and say “Wasn’t that great?”

I wanted to kick him in the nuts. I had so hoped that my relationship might go beyond a four minute whirlwind. Alas, Brendon and I never got together after that one brief moment. I would be surprised if he even remembers.

I can almost hear the girl grunting. The hunter finally pulls her head close to his belly and holds her there. She struggles a little but eventually acquiesces to his muscle. Then they are done. He begins to walk back away from me into the woods and she, dutifully, follows a few steps behind. That seemed appropriate, I guess. The dense trees swallow them and they vanish from my sight.

***

As I walk, the trees become more widely spaced. There is very little underbrush here. I stop and look down to my right – the trees are lined up in rows. This must have been an orchard or a replanting zone of some kind. Just ahead of me I see a wide gap that looks like it used to be a road. There is some gravel. I walk across it carefully to safeguard my feet. I plunge back into the forest on the other side.

That girl I had just seen did not appear to be in any danger. Her captor was not treating her badly; nor did she appear to be panicky about her situation. That perplexed me. I wonder where they were walking when they disappeared into the woods. I wonder why she was captured so quickly and how she came to succumb to him so quickly. Maybe she was fearful and she was submitting to try and mitigate some more severe handling. I am walking in a mini-daze. Until I hear it.

It is far away. It is a voice crying out. It is a scream. A few seconds later, I hear another scream. I have no idea where it is coming from, but it is not very near. At least, I think it is not near. Maybe it is in the ravine I just walked through – there the sound would be muffled. There it is again: another agonizing scream. I hear a dozen or so more cries of anguish before it finally stops. It had to be the girl. Her vanquisher must be beating her. I picture it in my mind: she is dangling from a tree limb – he is pacing about her as she dangles, lashing her at will. She is struggling in pain. She is crying out for compassion but to no avail.

The more I thought about it, the more scared I became. I was distracting myself. I looked around – there was no one in sight.

The trail goes down between some large rocks. The isolation is overpowering; I do not want to be walking here. There is a fork in the trial; it seems to me that the warehouse will be to the right, so I stay on the path going straight ahead. If someone is out there waiting for me, he will probably be there. Maybe it was just intuition, but I felt like I had made the correct choice.

I do not understand. Just an hour ago the thought of being hunted had excited me. And I hated being in the woods. But now I am slinking through the rocks and crawling through the underbrush fearful of capture. Not only that, but I was fearful of the ‘punishment’. Hector had spoken of medieval slave hunts and pillaging. This started as a voluntary action and has now turned into a survival test. I was going to win.

There are fewer rocks now and the trees begin to thin. There is some grass patches here and there.

The trail veered sharply to the left. Up ahead there is a large gap in the trees and the sunlight is shining brightly. As I get closer I recognize it as a small gulch about fifty yards wide. The gulch is fairly deep and there is a small brook flowing at the bottom. The trail turns back to the original direction and follows alongside the gulch.

***

There is a shack ahead on the right. It looks desolate. There are no windows and the door is barely hanging on the hinges. I warily approach and look in one of the open windows. No one is here. I open the door and walk in. There is no dust; it looks very clean. There are two doors along the back wall.

I walk through the door on the right. Inside is a large six-foot vertical post with short wooden pins on either side at about six inch intervals. On the wall is a pegboard; there were several varieties of whips, gags and bridles and a large shiny metal tool that I did not recognize. It was curved and had a large ball on the end. The other straight end had a loop on it. I thought for a moment what that might be for and cringe.

What was that? That sound! What was that? Someone is in the outer room! Now what am I going to do? I am standing behind the door. It creaks open; I can hear someone take a step. He must be looking around. He moves away and closes the door. I am petrified. Why did he not come in? Is he looking for something?

The door to the other room opens. I have not taken a breath, but I do not want to move. I cannot move. I must stay still. I hear him lumbering around the next room. Something is dropped and then something else. The thumps make me flinch. He walks back out. I sink to the floor and hope that he does not look into the window.

In just a few seconds he appears in the window walking away on the trail behind the shack. Just like the others before, he wears gray pants, black shoes, a green vest and a black mask. He is carrying two large coils of rope. He turns left and disappears from sight. Several minutes go by before I gather the courage to even breathe. I stand and touch the door. Its creak sounds like a tuba to me. Cautiously I put each foot forward trying to get out of the shack without making any more noise.

The door to the outside stands open. The part of the trail that brought me here is empty, but how close are the hunters? I should not have stopped here. What was I thinking? I move around the corner slowly; no one there. A couple of more soft steps and I see no one behind the house. I run up the trail as it follows the side of the gulch. The trees are denser; no one can see me in there.

I cannot believe I made such a mistake; I should never have stopped at the shack. I could have been caught. I have got to be more careful. That was too close.

The trail winds over a small rise and back down and along the side of the gulch. In no time, I can look back and the shack is out of sight. I can hear the sound of the brook as it gushes over stones. It is so peaceful out here. That is the irony. Someone is being terrorized by a mysterious pursuer, a medieval hunter, a slaver. I have got to keep moving toward the warehouse.

***

I overhear a voice. Where? There I see on the opposite side of the gulch. Another man, dressed just as the before (gray pants, black shoes, green vest and black mask), standing by a row of trees. And he has a girl with him. She has red hair. She must be the third girl in our group. She is suspended between some trees. Her ankles are secured with rope to two trees so that they are stretched wide apart. More rope is looped around her body and two long strands hang from the tree limbs above her. Her arms are tied off at the wrists and reach up to more limbs above her. The man is standing between her legs and jacking her hard. She is moaning in delight. I can hear it as if they were standing next to me. I must be cautious – the acoustics of this place must conduct sound a long distance.

She can scarcely move at all. I have already run across a blowjob. Now I come across some bondage sex.

I recollect running into another bondage sex scene – it had been my first exposure to non-conventional sex. I had thought sex was just blowjobs and missionary position and you are done. That is the way it had always been done. That is the way the guys had done it to me.

But I learned that the world was bigger than a thought. It happened during my sophomore year in college. I normally came home from college on the weekends. But I came home early one week day and learned a new lesson.

I walked into our farm house and went up the stairs. I could hear the bed creaking in my brother’s bedroom. I stealthily looked in the door and saw a naked girl stretched out on the bed – her ass was elevated, her legs were spread and ankles tied to each post of the footboard. Her wrists were tied behind her back and the cord stretched up to the ceiling and was tied off to a hook. This cord was taut and pulled her arms up off her back. There was a rope wrapped around her neck and tied to the bedframe beneath her. She had very little maneuvering potential.

The girl had a blindfold and my brother was in her face feeding her mouth with his cock. And he was feeding her hard; he held his left hand behind her head as he pounded her. He saw me and raised his right index finger in a ‘shush’ pattern, then held up the finger in a ‘just-a-minute’ signal. He gave her a few more hard shoves and unloaded into her mouth. He pulled his cock out and I could hear her say, “Thank you my master.” He took a gag that was lying on the bed and placed it into her mouth then he walked out into the hallway with me.

In the most nonchalant manner you could imagine, he grinned at me and said, “What’s up?”

I was stuttering; I looked at him and asked, “Wha_, wha_, what do you mean ‘What’s up’? Who’s that you’ve tied up in the bed?”

“Oh, her? She told me she had been a bad girl and needed a spanking,” he said with a boyish grin.

“Wasn’t it convenient that you were available to provide her with that service?”

“Well, you know me; I always try to help out any way I can.”

“You are a pervert.”

“Oh, come on now, Jean, this it totally consensual. Anyway, don’t you recognize her? She’s your old high school buddy: Jenny!”

“Jenny? You mean Jenny Ackerman, the cheerleader?”

“Yeah, that’s her. You two are good buddies aren’t you?”

I looked at him sternly, “Jenny Ackerman would drop her pants for anyone. Is this the kind of girl you are looking for?”

“Oh, no, she’s not really like that at all! I’ll show you the kind of girl I’ve got – watch this.” He walked back into the bedroom, climbed up on the bed and squatted on the other side of Jenny’s ass from me. He held his middle finger up as if he was flipping me off, turns it around and plunges it right into her ass hole. She jerked and squirmed, and I could make out some muted screaming behind her gag. He pulled and pushed his finger back into her ass four more times while she shuddered and squealed and while I was frozen there watching them.

He gently patted her upwardly extended rump a couple of times. Then he jumped out of bed, ran back out into the hall and innocuously said, “Hey, now that’s the kind of girl I want.”

I rolled my eyes and walked past him into my bedroom. In passing I commented, “You’re a brigand!” I was disgusted with my brother. I know I had surprised him by coming home early.

But I sat and thought about that incident. I had never seen, or even imagined, a bondage sex act before. It looked enthralling. I could almost picture myself in Jenny’s place and my master shoving his finger into my ass just to show me who was the boss.

I love my brother. He and I still live on the old farm in the farm house. Mom and Dad have been gone for nearly ten years now. In all our time there since their deaths, I had never really known him to even date a girl. That chance encounter had been an eye-opener.

I twitch; I hear some moaning. I look back at the girl suspended in the trees. Maybe if I let myself be captured, one of them would do that to me. No, I cannot think that way. I have got to get away and back to the warehouse. I heard the screams; was that the ‘punishment’? I must keep out of sight.

The hunter pulls his cock out of her, walks around while holding his cock. He starts rubbing it and aiming it toward her face from about a foot away. I see it discharge streams of white juice onto her face, neck and chest. She extends her tongue and tries to get some into her mouth as it drips off his cock.

He looks around right at me. I stand and gulp. I have given myself away. How could I do that? I take off running as fast as I can. How could I be so stupid? He saw me. It did not matter that he was on the opposite side of the ravine. He was the hunter and he had spotted me. I knew he would somehow signal the others of my whereabouts. I am panicking. He is a medieval slave hunter. He is a brigand, just like my brother. He wanted to show me that he was my master.

I run up and down a couple of hills and finally come to rest at a small bridge going across a creek. I am heaving for air as I gasp with each breath. I hold onto the handrail on the bridge and try to gather my wits. My breathing gets easier and easier. I look around. I see no one.

I begin to think about driving up to the warehouse earlier this morning. There was a small creek that worked its way around behind the warehouse. This must be it. I must be close. I start hiking again and climb out of the creek bed. When I get to the top I peek over the edge – there it is.

***

A hundred yards ahead of me is the yard and the warehouse. I have made it. This is the poorest spot I can be in – so close to the finish line and I am getting very edgy. I look around. I still do not see anyone. I do not hear anyone. I have got to be sure. For those last hundred yards I have got to avoid anyone that might be around. This could be an ambush. I have got to scout out an obscure way to get past the hunters. I know they are around. I have got to be the one that reaches the goal. I saw how the red-haired girl was taken. I had not seen anything that looked like ‘punishment’. But what about those screams? I had heard them. That meant something. I knew they were real and painfully inflicted.

I hear some branches crack behind me. I duck into the brush. It is getting closer and sounds heavy. I do not move. I try not to breathe. I see a figure coming out of the woods. It is a man; he is hauling a naked girl on his shoulder. There are red stripes across her legs and butt. She must have been whipped. Those stripes hurt when they were applied. She must have been the one I heard screaming. I can see why she was screaming. The stripes look painful.

I do not think this is the same man I saw earlier. But how was I supposed to know? They all were dressed alike and were wearing the masks. They are walking not more than five feet away. They walk past and I see her long black hair dangling down. Her hands are bound behind her back. Momentarily I see myself on that man’s shoulder. The thought covers me with an erotic chill. I regain my senses. He walks on carrying his prey. They go into the warehouse. She must have been the first girl that I saw – I have seen both of my competitors and they both had been captured. I am the last girl! I can relax. Oh, no, I must be diligent. Stay focused.

In the corner of my eye, I see two other people. It is another hunter and the red-hair girl is being pulled on a leash right behind him. She is covered with mud from head to toe. I cannot imagine what might have transpired but she is a mess. They walk out of the woods a little farther away and he leads her into the warehouse.

I am so close to home I can hardly stand it. I must be careful. I look down the trail again. I see no one. I am going to run for it. I will follow the same path they took to get to the building. It is quiet. There is no one about. I have got to go.

I stand and start running toward the warehouse. Another fifty yards and I will be out of the woods and finally heading for the door. All of the sudden, I am taken off my feet and rising into the air. The trees move past my eyes as I am lifted up. Everything around me is bouncing up and down. I am in a net. It has curled me up into a lump. It was a trap. I have been captured in a trap. How did I do this? I followed the same track as the man carrying the girl. I had been careful. I have got to get out of this before someone sees me.

I move around. This thing has me tightly. Maybe I can climb up out of it. I pull at the top, pulling the ropes apart trying to find a gap to climb out. I am only about four feet off the ground. If I can get out of this and jump down, then I am home free.

The door opens on the warehouse. Someone is going to find me here. He is going to take me and beat me. I am going to scream and twitch as I hang helplessly from some tree. Wait – this man is not dressed as the rest. I breathe a short breath of relief; it is Hector. He is walking toward me carrying a long wooden pole. If he gets here then I win. He is not a hunter. He will let me go. He gets up a few feet away and says, “Well, Jean, you made it a long way today. I’m impressed with your spunk. You evaded several close situations today. You have done very well.”

“Get me out of here. I have got to get into that warehouse before a hunter gets me. I have won. The other two girls were captured and now I have won.” I am so relieved. But Hector is not getting me down.

“Not to worry, Jean, the chase portion of this adventure is about over. Now it is time for phase two to begin. Your journey has only begun.” He looks behind me. I tighten up with fear. I feel a sudden coldness and my mind races in horror. I look behind me. It is a hunter, a medieval slaver, a brigand.

He pulls the net, with me in it, down. He spreads the opening, reaches in and grabs hold of my hair and pulls me out. He drops me on the ground and rolls me over on my belly. This cannot be happening; I was so close. The hunter ties my hands behind my back. “Let me go, I am the winner. You have got to let me go.” He takes a dowel and pushes it between my teeth; he ties it behind my head. He pulls the pole that Hector had carried out up by my head. It has a thick cloth strap looped at one end; he pulls the loop over my head and around the bridle gag and snugs it up around my neck. I can feel a rubber pad on the end of the pole. The man steps in front of me. I am afraid to look up at him. He walks to my side, picks up the pole pulling me to make me stand. Hector is nowhere to be seen. I am standing before the hunter. He takes hold of my frock and rips it off of me with a couple of swift movements. I had liked that frock; I had wanted to use that to seduce a man. Maybe I had already succeeded. Hector had referred to it earlier as a slave dress. The man drops the shredded rags onto the ground.