The hunt girls

I was very bothered about her being a female. Whatever these men really thought about hunting, they’d probably be content to work off their bad feelings against their female prisoners in the traditional male way by thoroughly fucking us. Motivation like that I could understand, but not why the girls were here, unless they were either voyeurs or lesbians, and I hoped to God they weren’t dykes.

“Kate, I’m going to ask you once more for your shirt. If you don’t do as you’re told then we’ll start applying some pressure. Your choice.”

Immediately I began trying to undo the top button but it wouldn’t come free. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I said desperately as the pliers started to nip harder, “My hands are shaking so much … “

“OK, OK, don’t get into a panic, Kate. I’ll undo them for you.”

1 came close to me, holding the pliers up. He put them against one of the buttons and snipped the bottom of the jaws together. I guess the pliers were designed to cut wires as well as hold things because the button fell off with only a few neatly severed thread ends to show where it had been.

“Good job that wasn’t a piece of your ear, hey?”

I shuddered in fear at the implied threat and stood completely still as he cut off the rest of the buttons and lifted the front of the shirt away from the cups of my sports bra, the one which was supposed to minimize bounce but apparently wasn’t doing much of a job. 2 pulled the shirt off my arms from behind me while 1 and 3 kept on staring at my bra. 1 took a small bottle out of his pocket.

“Would you like a stirrup cup, Kate? Some rum?”

“Yes … yes, please.” Anything to help me through this. Anything to try and keep on friendly terms with these lunatics.

He gave me the bottle, and as I took a sip from it he put his hands underneath the bra cups, hefting them slightly as if judging their weight. The taste of the rum was deep in my throat like molten lava spurting up inside a volcano. 2 and 3 moved closer, undoing the waistband of my jodphurs, then tugging them down around my knees. I felt stupid and humiliated, though knowing this was nothing to what was coming. I heard a kind of squawking sound, like a big angry bird … which was what it was.

Over 1’s shoulder I could see Sandra on her back on the table, with her bare legs held high in the air and wide apart by two of the gang. Another of them was rubbing his hand against the tiny white triangle of panties between her well muscled thighs; he was doing it as if he was rubbing two pieces of wood together as hard and fast as he could to raise a spark. Whether he was lighting a fire in Sandra or not he was certainly getting a lot of noise out of her. She was helpless to resist, of course. The fourth person around her was using yet another of the pliers to keep a grip on her ear. These people must have made some hardware shop owner very happy.

The leader glanced over at the scene and laughed, then nipped the tips of my cups with his thumb and forefinger. “OK, 5, that’s enough fun for now. Just get her ready. Kate, sit down again.”

I slumped back into the chair and the other two dragged my jodphurs over my feet. Sandra was sitting up at the end of the table as the league people guided her feet back into her boots. Flushed with anger at her recent treatment, her fair hair in disarray, I could see Sandra’s fingernails scratching at the thick blanket beneath her in repressed rage. She kept her hands down on the table though as the guy squeezing her ear ran his other hand over her small bra cups. But Sandra has always had an intimidating kind of look about her, with her firm chinned face and piercing blue eyes. Even in that situation, wearing nothing but her bra and panties and being casually fondled she still retained some dignity.

Melissa, by far the best looking of us, was surrounded by blue overalls and groping hands, waving her own hands around in futile gestures as she was thoroughly touched up. Unlike Sandra though she didn’t seem overly unhappy. True, her china doll face was flushed, her hair was in disarray and she was yelping a little, but it was hardly a sustained outburst of vocal protest. Not that I was doing any protesting at all myself, just putting my riding boots back on as I’d been told to.

1’s mocking voice boomed out. “Right, will all the hunt ladies please report to the saddling area?”

2 and 3 held me by the arms as I walked towards the saddles. A pair of cameras had been set up in front of them on tripods, with a bright light also on a stand and plugged into one of the stable’s power points. The gang’s organization was still as impressive as it had been from the beginning of this nightmare.

Sandra was dealt with first. Because the saddle was against the wall she had to be lifted up and over the front of it, with four eager men doing the job. You could feel the excitement in the room as she was positioned for the hoist. Two of the men had their hands underneath her bottom and the backs of her calves, whilst she sat up between them steadying herself with her hands around their shoulders, her booted legs stretched out widely in front of her by two more helpers, her mouth agape as she was displayed in her near naked condition in front of everybody like a captured trophy. Once again I wondered at what it was about a pair of boots on a woman that was such a male turn on.

“Keep her like that.”

Sandra was twitching around as if she was on an anthill as the hands underneath her took full advantage of their positions. 1 followed his instructions by walking behind her, reaching around her waist and making a great show of holding out the waistband of her panties, then looking over her shoulder and down into them. He held up his index finger in front of her face and told her to lick it. She hesitated, just long enough to see one of the gang coming forward with a pair of pliers poised in front of him. It was enough to start her sullenly licking the offered finger, holding her tongue out against it as if it were a lollipop.

“good girl. Now you can have some of it for yourself.”

There was a round of approving noises as he lowered his hand, then slipped it between Sandra’s taut stomach muscles and the waistband of her panties. Then the talking stopped as the audience eagerly watched her being fingered, a silence broken only by a series of sniffs and gasps from Sandra as if she badly needed a handkerchief to help her through her public humiliation. Behind each camera a photographer was busily taking shots of the scene. It seemed to me that both of them were girls because I couldn’t see any stiff cocks underneath their overalls. There were certainly plenty visible in the rest of the gang, all the men apparently fascinated by the movements underneath the fabric stretched tight across 1’s knuckles. Sandra was lying back with her arms still around two of her captors, eyes half closed, then jerking open as one of the boys holding her boots moved it even further apart from the other one. She gave one last groan of protest before beginning to twitch her hips in open response to the stimulation she was getting.

One of the men holding my arm put his hand on mine and then rested it against the erection underneath his overalls. He smelt of tobacco and giggled as I stroked him. The guy on the other side of me had spotted what was happening and quickly took my hand to shake his cock in the same kind of meet and greet ceremony. Both of them grunted with approval, both at what I was doing and the sight of Sandra’s red-faced and blatantly erotic mid-air dance to the tune of 1’s fingers.

“OK, hang her up to dry now.”

There were chuckles at that, and at the sight of Sandra being placed on top of the center saddle. The stirrups had been shortened to keep her feet off the floor so her knees were high up like a jockeys. Unbalanced, she had to cling to empty pegs on each side of the saddle to stay in place, arms straight down and out. 1 surveyed her, then apparently satisfied, pointed at me.

“Come on, Kate, let’s see what you like when you’ve been mounted.”

The prat had more jokes than a professional after dinner speaker and a much more appreciative audience. I was taken out in front of the saddle on Sandra’s left, the guys all crowding around me, glittering eyes staring through the party masks. With nothing but my bra and panties on — and boots — it was like being a stripper at a stag party, and this was only the start of it, that was for sure. Kate Mowberly, horsewoman and amateur porno star. One of the gang nearby effectively distracted my thoughts with his pliers by touching one of my nipples with it.

“Hand rubs all round again, Kate. Starting with me.”

It was like an old coke advertisement, be the most popular girl at the dance, only it wasn’t bottles I was being given. They all crowded around for a stroke here and a touch there. It was like feeding sugar lumps to a group of young stallions, each pushing against the other as they all tried to get more than their fair share.

“Come on, people, get out of the way.” A girl’s voice, impatient, from behind the men as she tried to use one of the cameras.

“Hoist her up, boys.” 1 was giving orders again.

A hasty re-arrangement of my captors, a body on either side of me again, others bending down to grab my boots. Hands were clutching my buttocks, taking my weight and squeezing my bottom like a piano accordion as I was lifted up and stretched wide open in the same way as Sandra had been. The fox head masks leered at my predicament and the bright light between the cameras made the morning sunlight in the windows look pale. Two separate fingers at least were burrowing up as far as they could get into the gap between my buttocks, stopped only by my panties. Others were rubbing against the gusset, apparently trying to find out exactly where I was most sensitive. No wonder Sandra had squirmed around so much: I found myself doing exactly the same thing, and gasping as well. Gasps counter pointed by sounds of amused appreciation from several watchers. As if rewarding the audience’s reaction, the guys holding my legs moved them even further apart until I felt like a wishbone at a Christmas lunch.

A pair of hands passed around my waist and underneath my bra cups. The cups began to bounce up and down in slow motion as the man directly behind me juggled them, first the left and then the right, as if he was trying to weigh one against the other. Another round of deep voiced approval came from the watchers. Squinting down, I could see that the gaps of paler flesh visible above the cups were gently quivering in turn as 1 played with me. That it was him, I was sure. What I could also see were the defining bumps where my nipples had begun to harden, visible even through the thickness of the heavy duty sports bra. There were more chuckles as the fingers reached up and stroked them.

“What’s this, Kate? Not getting excited at the thought of entertaining all these lads are you?”

It seemed too late for false modesty with so many hands already on me but at least I tried: “No”, I whimpered.

“In that case I’d better have a feel of your cunt to make sure nothing’s happening down there. Because, and this is our little secret, your friend Sandra was beginning to oil herself up nicely with my encouragement. Here, have a lick and find out for yourself.”

He held up the index finger on his right hand before my face, then placed it on my lips. Immediately I began licking it and he responded by putting it in my mouth. As I sucked on it, 1 called out to the watchers.

“OK, who’d like to see Kate’s tits bare and bouncing?”

The response was immediate and with no dissenting voices. Everybody seemed to want to see my breasts. 1’s hands went around my back and unhooked me, then pushed the shoulder straps down around my elbows.

“Shake her up, boys.”

It was like being tossed in a blanket, with all the hands holding me moving together in unison to lift me up and down. I gasped and clung tightly to the shoulders of two of the men as my mounds began to take on a life of their own, the gang cheering them on as each one fell out of the slipping cups. But it was no joke for me. I’m big enough to really need a well engineered bra — and without it there was nothing to keep control of the hanging weights.

“Ah … ooh! No!”

Both breasts were keeping perfect formation as they flopped through figure of eight patterns. At the top of the loops they were almost weightless, then slam dunked down against the top of my stomach like surfing waves hitting a beach. It was definitely a feedback situation, because the higher and lower my boobs bounced, the more inspired the guys holding me seemed to become to make them bounce even higher and lower. What you might call a booby trap situation.

“Stop it! Please, stop it,” I begged, literally with tears in my eyes. If this went on I was sure my chest muscles would soon start tearing apart.

“No more shaking.” 1’s command was a blessed relief. “Now let’s stir her up.”

I was aware of him standing beside me, felt his fingers stroking the bottom of my belly, then sliding down into my panties. My boots were now as wide apart as they could go, the masks were watching me intently, and one uncovered, shocked face — Melissa’s. 1 touched my cunt lips, running his finger tips up between them. I cried out in not very faked excitement, jerking myself at his touch and showing how eager I was for him to continue. Which I certainly was, at least as an alternative to having my tits tossed around again. Anyway, there was no doubt about the attention my panties were getting as 1 explored them the same way he’d explored Sandra’s. ‘Going to ground’ it might have been called, with his probing fingers getting ever deeper, but 1 probably wouldn’t have wanted to use a fox hunting term. Still, he sure seemed to be getting a hell of a lot of fun out of getting revenge for the local predators: as far as I was concerned he was the biggest one I’d ever met. Eventually he seemed to accept the whimpering approvals slipping out of my throat as proof enough to the audience that he’d broken my spirit and withdrew his fingers

“Put her up on the saddle now.”

As they lifted me and onto the saddle my bra began to slip further down my arms to the elbows. Like Sandra, I found the stirrups too short to stay in the saddle comfortably and had to grip the empty pegs on either side of me, the straps cutting into my upper arms and the cups tangled around underneath my breasts. It was far more humiliating than simply being stripped. Which was probably why 1 seemed to like the sight.

“Get Sandra’s tit holders down as well.”

Sandra could do nothing to stop them, even if the sight of two pairs of pliers hadn’t been enough to show the stupidity of any such action. She just stared over the tops of the masks as she had her pert little tits put on display. But even she looked down as Melissa had to take her turn in front of the gang. 1 varied the routine this time by having her stand up and facing the onlookers as her bra was undone and lowered.

“Cop those!” Somebody said. I knew what the comment was about. Melissa has unusually large nipples, large and dark, and I’d sometimes wondered in the shower room what they looked like when she was turned on. It seemed as if the anti-hunt protestors were more than willing to take time out to answer the same question.

1 took a kitchen chair and sat down in it with his back to the cameras. Melissa was made to stand astride his legs and face the gang with a guard on either side — both male. 1 had each of them take hold of one of Melissa’s handfuls and knead away at them as 1 moved his mouth from one to the other, happily suckling each nipple in turn as he rubbed his palm up between the fork of her jodphurs.

Neither Sandra nor I could see from behind what effect all this had on Melissa, but we didn’t need to. The comments from the gang and the way the camera girls were zooming in their lenses made it clear the rough handed breaking in process was succeeding. And very soon afterwards Melissa’s head tilted back as she yowled like a tom cat seeking a mate.

I wondered how she’d deal with the experience, and the others about to come her way. In the months I’d known her she’d only had the one boyfriend, but since he was good looking and from a rich family he was probably all she’d needed. She came from a wealthy background herself and it was almost certainly she’d ever been forced to do anything in her life she hadn’t wanted to. But saying ‘no’ wasn’t an option for any of us anymore — the pliers were going to see to that. The message that was coming with them was that a lot of hot spunk was boiling up inside the stables and the three of us had better show willing to help drain ever last drop of it.

Sandra had always had a taste for casual sex, I knew. It was about the only kind of relationships she had time for in her busy life. But she’d never really confided much to me about that side of her character. As for me — well, if you’re a half way decent looking girl who gets to meet some of the aristocracy, and they find out you don’t mind some serious fun, then you get some interesting experiences. Remember the lady in the billiards room? I’d earned a very nice tip in hard cash for luring her in there in the first place. And later on I’d shared a bed with her, an antique four poster — not to mention the four blue blooded cocks we also shared. Still, as one of the guys had said, in Nelson’s time seamen weren’t allowed on shore and hundreds of men and women had cheerfully fucked away below decks with only a row of guns on each side for privacy. Six on a bed was nothing by comparison.

Maybe 1 and his friends had read the same history books. They certainly didn’t seem shy about their satisfying their lusts at any event. But they kept to their plans though, finally hoisting a gasping and well handled Melissa up into the last empty saddle. Then they put our riding helmets on and brought the banner over, holding it up in front of us against our breasts. Melissa and myself both had to let go one of the pegs and use our free arms to hold it in place while photos were taken of the three of us. Sandra’s face looked as if she was sucking up sour lemon juice through a mustard coated straw: I’m sure she was worried sick about the chances of any of the shots appearing in the press. ‘HORSE & HOUND’ certainly wouldn’t print them but there were several gutter press papers which would, and delight in it. 1 was certainly right about that.

“Smile, Sandra,” he ordered her. “A great big smile – or else.” On the guys held up the pliers he was holding and snapped the jaws like a piranha’s bite.

So Sandra smiled: all three of us did. Anything to keep those pliers at a distance. Personally I didn’t think that 1 was bluffing at all about using them and even if he was, I was bloody sure there were others in the league gang who’d be happy to hear us begging for mercy.

“OK,” 1 said. “Let’s play the variations a bit now. Kate, hang one of those big bristols of yours over the top of the banner — no, don’t bother about doing it yourself, I’ll be happy to give you a hand.”

A strong hand it was, a hand which made me gasp as it seized my right boob and hauled it out from the cloth, then mauled it for good measure.

“And I’ll have one of yours on show as well, Melissa.”

He took his time with her, more so than me. Perched on the saddle, her tits were at the same height as his mouth, a fact he took advantage of to bring the exposed one up to a sharp point again before stepping back to give the cameras a clear shot. Something else that was clear was that if the photographers had enough to do, the rest of the gang were eager to move on to more interactive activities.