Fox Hunt

Sir had a brilliant idC6qC18pXUAQUDhvea the other day. We’d have a Fox Hunt. I’d be on foot and have a half hour head start. I’d wear only shoes and a g-string. I wasn’t sure why he allowed the g-string, but I wasn’t going to argue! Sir owns a large tract of land so we didn’t have to worry about public nudity or innocents seeing my naked – or nearly naked – form. He would, after 30 minutes, set out on horseback. I was all for this idea. Once he caught me, I’d be his captive to with as he pleased. (YAY!!!) At my suggestion, we also agreed that if he found me within 30 minutes of him setting off I’d lose all rights to a safeword. (Since I hadn’t used it in a few months, I didn’t think this was a big deal.) If it took him longer than 30 minutes to find me, I kept that right and he’d lose the right to use a switch on me – which I hated! I started off at the old abandoned railroad tracks, got into position to run (I used to be a distance runner in college and still did the odd marathon). He took out his watch and said GO! I was off. I ran straight for a while, then darted into the woods. I easily hopped over a narrow creek and zig zagged my way to the densest part of the forest. I squatted down behind a fallen tree and kept very, very still, hoping to hide here until the first 30 minutes was up. I had no real idea how much time had lapsed since I had no watch and it was a cloudy day so I couldn’t track the sun. Then, I heard it. Hoofbeats. I squished down farther beneath the tree but as I did this, I rustled the undergrowth and a twig snapped. Sir, a trained hunter and tracker, was on me in a flash. I looked up into his smiling face and groaned. He had his pocket watch out then showed me. It had taken him only 20 minutes after my 30 minute head start ttumblr_nao8pt80Mc1s33cvuo1_500o find me. No Safeword. He motioned me with his hand to come closer. When I was within reach, he hauled up onto the horse and flopped me over in front of him, belly to horse, ass up. As we road, he used the reins to whip my bottom every now and then. I yelped, but didn’t wiggle because of my precarious position. After about ten minutes we stopped. He slid down from the horse and pulled me off as well. He told me to stand by one particular tree, pulled my arms back a bit, then handcuffed me in place. Then, he hummed to himself and went wandering off. He stayed well within sight of me – he’d never leave me exposed like that and bound – I mean anything can happen in the forest! I saw him stoop down and grab a handful of plants. He brought it back and showed me his prize. I began to cry when i saw what it was and to beg him not to use it. He just laughed and said maybe I’d think twice before offering to give up my safeword the next time. I dropped my head. There would be no mercy. He reprimanded me for my cockiness at thinking I could evade him aImage result for stinging nettle punishments he whipped my breasts and inner thighs with the Stinging Nettle. (He, of course, was wearing his riding gloves!) If I had not been bound to the tree, I’m sure I would have run or fought. The stinging was TERRIBLE! My skin is not overly sensitive, but still I was developing a slight rash and it burned and itched like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Luckily, he stopped after only a few minutes, throwing the awful plant down to the ground. Tears ran down my face, which pleased Sir greatly! He took off his gloves carefully, kissed me, and ran a finger down my slit. He grasped my clit between his fingers and squeezed. My knees almost buckled as an orgasm crashed through me. When my trembling stopped, he pulled away and grinned. “Now,” he said, “To take my prey home.”

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