‘This Sat Nav is useless,’
Stephanie declared, tapping its frozen screen impatiently.
‘Have you found out where we are yet,
Kate?’ asked Lyn, who was driving the hire car.
In the backseat, Kate was wrestling
with the backup paper map. ‘No. Sorry, I
can’t find this road anywhere. I’m not
even sure what state we’re in!’
‘Getting lost in the middle of the USA
was not part of our big adventure,’ Stephanie said.
Stephanie Young, Kate Marshall and
Lynnette Neal had met while attending the same London gym a few years before
and had become close friends, partly due to their shared interest in
Americana. They had decided, while they
had the opportunity and were still young enough to enjoy it, that they would
have their own Great American Road Trip before settling down and seriously
thinking about partners and families.
They would cross the country from east coast to west, with detours along
the way, and visit those famous places in person that they had only known in
film and song.
And so they arrived in New York and
saw its sights, and then they hired a car and set out south and west. They took in civil war battlefields and
Appalachian mountain scenery; the blue grass country and Nashville; and then
they joined Historic Route 66. It was
while they were trying to fit in a trip Wichita, in homage to Glen Campbell,
that they took a turn north and found themselves on this road off the map.
The nameless road dipped and weaved
between a scattering of huge boulders and belts of trees that looked quite
different to the countryside they had been travelling through earlier.
‘There’s a sign,’ Stephanie said,
It was a large board beside the road
Welcome to Lime County
Hung below it was a second sign:
Hunting Season is now open
Kate was still frowning at the
map. ‘I can’t see any “Lime County”
‘Well apparently that’s where we are,’
said Lyn, ‘now we just have to find out how to get to where we want to be. Oh, now what…’
Coming out of a bend, they saw the
lane ahead was cut across by an arc of traffic cones. A man in uniform was standing behind the
cones waving them off the road onto a parking area nestled between the
trees. A couple of police cars with lime
green stripes down their sides bearing the letter LCSD stood there, next to a
wooden cabin-like building with a veranda front hung with the sign:
Lime County Sheriff’s Post.
As they turned in, a second officer was waiting there,
indicating where they should park
‘They should be able to give us
directions,’ Lyn said, parking their car beside the small building.
The officer was dressed in a khaki
shirt and trousers, a campaign hat with its four-way pinched-in crown, a heavy
gun belt and a star shaped badge, with Deputy
Sheriff emblazoned upon it. He
tapped on the driver’s window. Lyn wound
it down. He looked in on them and
smiled. ‘Do you know its hunting season, ladies?’ he asked politely.
‘Well we saw the sign, but we’re not
hunting anything. Actually, we’re
lost. Where are we?’
‘Like the sign says, you’re in Lime
County,’ the officer said simply.
‘But we can’t find it on the map,’
‘Lime County sometimes get missed off
maps,’ the officer said. ‘But that’s
where you are. And being hunting season,
we have to check people to be sure we only let the right people in. That’s the law. Could you please all come into the office and
bring your ID’s…’
Puzzled but obedient, they found their
passports and got out of the car and followed him into the Sheriff’s post. They hardly noticed the other deputy gathering
in the line of traffic cones and following them.
A single room extended across the
front of the building. Its walls were sparsely occupied by a wall map of the
county, some filing cabinets and a rack of rifles. A door in the rear wall led to some backroom. In one corner was a desk behind which sat a
lean, grizzled, middle-aged man in sheriff’s uniform.
‘These ladies say they got lost,
Boss,’ the officer said. ‘They don’t
know anything about the hunting season.’
‘I’m Lester Gurney, the county sheriff,’
he announced. ‘It’s my job to keep
things orderly, especially around hunting season. And where are you from?’
They handed over their passports. Gurney perused them and then looked them up
and down closely. ‘So, you’re all British.
Here on holiday?’
‘Yes,’ said Lyn.
‘Just the three of us,’ said Lyn. ‘Look, have we done anything wrong? We just got a bit lost. If you can tell us how to get back to Route
66, we’ll leave.’
Gurney shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I
can’t let you go just like that. Not
during hunting season.’
‘You mean it’s dangerous for us to be
here?’ Kate asked nervously.
‘Could be,’ Gurney mused. ‘But more
like it would be a waste.’
Stephanie was getting annoyed. ‘What do you mean? What’s so special about
this “hunting season” you all keep going on about? What do you hunt?’
Gurney grinned. ‘Pretty women like you. Deke, Harvey: show them how…’
Before they could take in the meaning
of his words, the deputies had drawn odd looking pistols from their holsters
and calmly shot the women at close range.
There were phutts of compressed air expanding
and the women squealed as they felt small sharp-tipped darts piercing their
clothing and stabbing into the soft flesh of their thighs and buttocks.
They clutched at them even as they felt
the life going from their legs. They
collapsed onto the floor twitching and jerking in fear as the paralysis spread
rapidly through their entire bodies and then they lay still. They could still feel and see and breathe and
roll their eyes a little and make faint gurgling sounds, but they could not
voluntarily move an arm or leg or even a finger.
Gurney got up and came round from
behind the desk and looked down at the three helpless women in
satisfaction. ‘You fellows get them
stripped while I get the stands,’ he told his deputies. ‘Just leave them their
shoes. They’ll be needing them later…’
He disappeared through the back door
while the deputies pulled the darts out of their flesh and then set about
stripping Lyn, Kate and Stephanie of their clothes. They were quick and efficient as if they had
done this thing many times before.
Through staring, terrified eyes, the friends watched each other being
stripped and the felt their own clothes being pulled off them, but could do
absolutely nothing to prevent it. The
few feeble groan of protest they were able to squeeze out of their throats were
ignored. The men removed everything,
including their jewellery and watches, and put them into plastic bags.
Gurney came back in, pushing before
him three head-high vertical poles set on low wheeled bases. The poles were capped by metal crossbars,
from the ends of which hung pairs of big deep rubber padded hooks; one at
shoulder height and the other, on the end of a length of chain, at about waist
Gurney positioned the stands in a row
in front of his desk. ‘All right, boys,
let’s get them up so we can have a proper look at them…’
One at a time, the deputies lifted the
women’s limp bodies up onto the stands so that the upper set of hooks went
under their armpits. The men bent and
parted their legs and hooked the lower set under their knees, holding them
dangling upright against the poles, with their legs splayed wide and groins
exposed. Straps pulled over from the
backs of the crossbars went across their foreheads, hold their limp heads
When they had all been hung, Gurney
looked them over, prodding and tweaking their bare helpless bodies, as if
carefully assessing them.
Stephanie was twenty-six. She had shoulder length pale blonde hair,
creamy skin, a heart shaped face and narrow deep dark eyes. The bridge of her nose was slightly pinched
in while her nostrils were flared. Her nose and cheeks were dusted with
freckles. Her breasts were large and
rounded, with big brown nipples over five centimetres across. She had fleshy
buttocks, a trim waist, good strong legs and a plump deep-cleft pussy with
pouting brown inner labia lips.
Kate was twenty-five. She had a slim build, a pale pink complexion
and dark shoulder length hair tied back in ponytail. Her nose was straight and eyes were deep
brown and set in a friendly cheerful face that in normal circumstances easily
broke into a bright smile. She had neat
apple-firm breasts capped by pink nipples, a tight waist, a shapely deep-cleft
vulva, lean legs and smooth rounded buttocks.
Lyn was twenty-seven. Loose brunette hair framed a face with a firm
chin and strong cheek bones. Her
features had a natural wryly amused set to them, emphasised by her cool blue
eyes, strong straight prominent nose and wide mouth with quirky pursed
lips. She had a fit but fleshy feminine
build, not large but prominent high breasts with stand-up pink nipples, deep
cleft buttocks, womanly wide hips, sparse pubic hair, and a pretty Mound of
And all of these features Gurney
inspected; pinching and squeezing and kneading their flesh. He tweaked and stretched their nipples and
slapped their breasts and pried apart their labia, exposing the pink wetness of
their inner valleys. He flicked the
fleshy buttons of their clitorises. He cupped and patted their hanging buttocks
and even stretched the bridge of skin between their legs to peer into the tight
puckers of their anal mouths, offered up by the tension on their splayed
‘Good quality British girl flesh
here,’ he said, half to himself. ‘Wish
we had more visitors like you. You’re
going to be popular with the hunters…’
His words horrified them, but they
could do nothing about it. Internally
they raged in fear, disgust and resentment but externally they could only roll
their eyes and whimper feebly. No, that
was not quite all… They felt their
nipples rising and labia swelling and wetting at his touch. It seemed perversely that the only
expressions left to them were those of sexual arousal. It was a nightmare!
Gurney read the fear and confusion in
their eyes. ‘Getting excited, are
you? Being darted and put on show does
that to women, although they won’t own up to it. Don’t worry, it’s not permanent. Those were
our hunting season darts, made to a very special formula. You can still breathe
and think and feel, but not move. They
wear off in half an hour or thereabouts.
Before then we’ve got to get you properly processed. Deke, Harvey: see to their car. I’ll take the pictures for the records…’
While his deputies went outside,
Gurney took up a camera from his desk and photographed them from every angle,
including close-ups of their faces and pussies.
Then, from a desk drawer, Gurney took out three red leather collars with
metal tags hanging from their tethering rings.
The tags were stamped PREY and each had a different number. He locked them about their necks so they
‘These mean you’re official prey
permitted to be exposed in public and hunted by anybody with a proper licence
during the hunting season. Hunters keep
a record of your numbers so we know who caught which girl in case of disputes,
and to see who tops the season record.’
He pinched and twisted each of their nipples in rapid succession,
bringing tears to their eyes. ‘Don’t try to take them off or cover them up,
unless you want to feel more pain than you know what to do with!’ he warned
them. ‘Collars and shoes, that’s all
The women rolled their eyes at this
fresh horror. They were going to be hunted naked!
‘Don’t worry, you’re not alone. There are over a hundred prey women in the
County right now, all doing what you’re going to do. So you’d better learn the rules. First: there’s no limit to the number of
times you can be hunted down and caught.
Once you’re caught, you can be used in any way that does not leave
permanent injury, but afterwards you must then be returned to where you were
found and allowed a sporting chance to move on before another hunter sets out
after you. You can keep the use of your
car and they can use traps of any kind to stop it and you.
‘Inside the town limits hunters can’t
use darts, so they have these…’ He
showed them a short stick with one end capped by a shiny red foam-rubber dildo
with a flared base. ‘They’re impregnated
with much the same stuff as is in the darts but in a form that is absorbed
through what medics call “mucus membranes”.
Pushed into your mouths, or up your front or rear passages, it will do
the same job of dropping you. If a man
gets a lasso over your neck or a leash on your collar, that also means you’re
caught and you have to go with him.’
Lyn, Kate and Stephanie were making
throaty whimpers of fear.
Gurney grinned at their distress. ‘Of course you don’t like it, but those are
the rules of the Hunting Season, and while you’re in Lime County you’ll obey
them. You keep moving until you’re
caught, then the hunter has his reward.
He’ll screw you as he likes, he might play some games with you, he’ll
take pictures and maybe a snip of pussy curl.
Those are his trophies. It’s
perfectly natural. Men have chased women
since the dawn of time. You might say
it’s the oldest sport there is. But if
you want an incentive…’
He pointed to the wall map that showed
a single main road weaving its way through the roughly lozenge-shaped county
orientated approximately east to west, which seemed to fill a long shallow
valley. There was a single town in the
middle named Buntline. ‘We’re here,’ he
said, tapping the eastern end of the road. ‘If you reach the sheriff’s post at
the other end, about forty miles or so, you’ll be free.’
Deke and Harvey came back in, laden
with Stephanie, Kate and Lyn’s suitcases, backpacks and even a plastic bag of
loose items from the glove box and door pockets. They had cleaned out their car
of every personal possession! They put
them in a corner together with the bags containing their clothes.
‘Your property will be waiting for you
at the other end of the road,’ Gurney told them. ‘All you’ve got to do is get past the hunters
between here and there. You’ll recognize
them because they’ll be wearing pins like this…’
And he lifted the button-down breast
pocket flap of his shirt under his badge to reveal another badge of a similar
size to the tags that hung from their collars, except that it read: HUNTER,
with a number below it. Deke and Harvey
did the same.
They were hunters and the women were
their captive prey. They could see the
growing bulges in the fronts of their trousers…
‘Expect a lot more of this,’ Gurney
told them. ‘Any hunter who brings you down is going to screw you, one way or
another. That’s how it works. But first they’ll probably want to soften you
up a bit, so you’ll behave properly submissive…’
From another drawer of his desk he
took out three wooden handles with short lengths of leather strap nailed to
their ends and gave two of them to his deputies.
‘Just enough to bring a blush to their
pretty hides,’ he told them.
The leather straps hissed through the
air and smacked against the women’s open thighs and dangling buttocks and
unprotected breasts. Smacks of leather
and soft flesh echoed back from the cabin walls. Thighs and buttocks rippled and breasts were
flattened, only to spring back wobbling and shivering ready and for more.
As their flesh turned from pink to
scarlet, the women flinched and jerked and squirmed inside, but their
immobilised bodies could only twitch feebly under the power of the
impacts. The screams they wanted to let
out became pitiful grunts and moans.
Burning pain filled them, piling misery upon shame and fear. The leather straps swiped upwards between her
parted thighs and kissed the clefts of their vulvas, splattering their
perversely dribbling juices as they struck.
Tears ran down their cheeks.
‘Enough,’ Gurney said, lowering his
strap. The deputies did likewise.
The insides and backs of Lyn,
Stephanie and Kate’s thighs, the rounded hemispheres of their buttocks, the
pouts of their pussies and the trembling globes of their breasts had all been
well tanned and were now a shocking pink.
Gurney stood in front of Stephanie,
hanging naked before him with her legs wide, sobbing and dribbling and burning
and terrified. He opened his flies,
freeing a stiff penis. Through the haze
of pain filling her body she gaped at it in despair and resignation. It would almost be welcome to change from
what she had already endured.
He squeezed and slapped her heavy
breasts, now crimson instead of pink. ‘I
like a good pair of hooters,’ he said.
He felt the plump split peach of her wet burning pussy mound. ‘And you’re nice and juicy. See what a licking with a bit of leather
does. Your pussy knows what coming …’
Then he took hold of her hips and
rammed his shaft up into her, parting her sore pussy lips.
Deke and Harvey, with their cocks
already out, were taking hold of Kate and Lyn and penetrating them. Then all three of them were impaled. The pole stands creaked and the hook chains
rattled as the men jerked up into them.
They slapped and pinched their blazing bottoms and breasts and kissed
their wet cheeks and loose, gaping lips.
And the women felt every thrust and
pinch and smack, even as they were screwed like sides of meat, unable to offer
any resistance. They grunted and
dribbled from both lips and labia as their stinging vaginas were pillaged and
their tanned breasts were mashed against official police uniforms and scraped
by their badges, feeling their hard nipples throbbing, responding to their
callous usage. They could smell their
own arousal. It was as if helplessness
and sadistic corporal punishment was an aphrodisiac, or was their something
else in the chemical cocktail the darts contained?
The three policemen were pumping away
frantically, their faces going red, caught up in the primitive throws of carnal
lust. And, revolted as they were, the
women were responding in kind in the only way left to them. As spurts of hot contemptuous sperm filled
them, they convulsed inside and expelled their own juices in return. For a moment, they were filled with carnal
delight that existed beyond right or wrong.
Then awareness returned and they felt pain and shame and wretched
humiliation overcome them once again.
* * *
The men carried the women’s limp naked bodies outside
slung over their shoulders and across to their hire car. They arranged them neatly in the same seats
they had occupied when they had driven in, buckling the seatbelts onto them to
hold them upright.
When they were done, Gurney stood by
the open driver’s door looking in at them.
‘See, you’re back where we found you
just like the hunting season rules say.
Follow the signs to Buntline and then keep on going. Drive safely.
Enjoy your stay in Lime County…’
And he shut the door and he and the
deputies walked unconcernedly away.