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Part 5
By 3:00 PM Amelia's legs were trembling with fatigue as she took whatever paths led her in a generally southwesterly direction. She had consumed all the dried food but had been able to replenish the water when she crossed another stream. (Or was it the same one?) Her body begged her to stop and rest, but her mind urged her on, reminding her that she was still a red dot on every hunter's screen, and that a healthy, determined man could still run her down before the 7:00 o'clock deadline. If she'd had the courage, she would have amputated her own hand to get rid of the damned watch and its traitorous GPS chip! But Ken had survived the Hunt without mutilating himself. Would he forgive her for maiming herself when all she had to do was keep running?
Four hours. That's all she had to endure. Four more hours and the Hunt would end. Then she'd want the locator, otherwise she'd be lost in this vast expanse of wilderness with its maze of paths. The Hunt Masters certainly wouldn't bother searching for her; they had another Hunt to get underway.
At 5:20 she came to another stream. This one was more like a series of rapids — much wider and faster flowing than the preceding brooks, and filled with water-slicked stones and sharp rocks. She could see where the trail continued on the opposite side, parting the thick tangle of brambly vegetation that grew along both banks. It was obvious she had no choice but to cross here.
She stepped carefully into the fast current, and immediately lost her footing, falling heavily into the water. She quickly checked herself out. No damage. For a few minutes she just sat there to let the rushing water cleanse away the encrusted semen that had seeped out of her vagina following the two rapes. Then she leaned down and drank, washing her mouth out as well. She refilled the water flask before standing up again to resume picking her way across the rapids. She had almost made it to the other side when her foot slipped on an algae covered stone and threw her down again. This time there was a searing pain in her ankle, and when she tried to stand up it blasted her with such agony that she had to finish the crossing on her hands and knees.
"O God, please, NO!" she pleaded. But God had already acted. By the time she reached the shore and examined the ankle, it was swelling alarmingly and was too painful to walk on. It was either broken or badly sprained. She crawled on all fours up the path until she came to a stand of cat-o-nine-tails she could hide behind while she considered her options.
She had two. She could hide there for the next hour and a half and hope the hunters would not catch up to her. Or she could fashion a crutch out of a small tree and struggle on. Both options seemed hopeless. She looked again at the watch and considered what it would take to cut through her wrist. She took out her knife and placed the point of it on the line where the arm meets the hand. If she lifted herself up and dropped her body on the hilt of the knife, would it sever the wrist? Probably not. Shala had had to whack away at the hunter's wrist bones and connecting sinews to detach the hand. There was no way Amelia could do that to herself! All she really wanted to do was lie down and cry, but she knew that would not be helpful. And just hiding there was a poor option, given the technology arrayed against her.
So she looked around for a branch or sapling she could fashion into a crutch. Nothing presented itself within view from her hiding place, so she crawled out on to the path and kept going on her hands and knees until she came to a young oak that seemed to fit the bill. But a knife, no matter how sharp, is not a hatchet. It took her until nearly 6:00 o'clock to cut down the sapling and cut it down further into a crutch. Finally she was able to haul herself up onto it and resume her flight, albeit much slower going than before.
The silence of the forest was her friend. Aside from the noise of her own solitary journey, the quiet was her reassurance that she was still alone and safe. Every now and then she stopped to savor it. And check the time. 6:19. Only forty minutes to go. 6:35. Less than half an hour. She can make it! 6:43 . . .
But suddenly the silence was not complete. The sound of breaking twigs. An animal? A hunter? She looked around but could see neither. Shit! She searched hastily for a place to hide. The best hope for concealment was a scraggly clump of bushes about twenty feet off to the right. She scrambled over to it and flattened herself behind the screen of leaves, drawing her knife. And waited.
Snap. She couldn't tell where it came from. Checked her watch. 6:45.
Another snap. Closer. She held her breath.
More sounds. Something walking. Or some one .
With a crash the leaves in front of her parted! She was looking into the leering face of a hunter. In his left hand he held the long stick that had opened a swath in her hiding place; in his right hand he held a dart gun which he pointed directly at her.
"It's all over, cutie pie. All but the fucking."
He fired a dart into her right breast. She screamed and plucked the dart out, writhing and twisting with the swiftly intensifying pain, but still clutching the knife. The hunter reloaded, leaned in and fired a second dart into her right biceps. She screamed louder and grabbed for the dart, but her hand had opened involuntarily and spilled the knife. By now Amelia was in such agony that there was no room in her mind left to think about the knife. The hunter retrieved it, then, while she was still helpless in the throes of mind-blotting pain, bound her wrists behind her. He wound more cord around her neck, as the first hunter had done, attached a leash to the improvised collar and dragged her to her feet.
"C'mon, bitch," he muttered, and began dragging her with the leash. She was still crying and struggling with the pain in her breast and arm, and now she was being forced to walk on her broken ankle. She stumbled and fell to her knees.
The hunter turned and placed the snout of the gun against her left nipple. "You want one here, too, Blondie?"
"NO, NO!" she screamed, tears flying as she shook her head.
"Then get on your fucking feet and walk!"
"Please, my ankle's broken!" she blubbered.
"Aw, izzat so? Well, lemme fix that. See that log?" He pointed to a dead tree the wind had blown over beside the trail. "Bend over it!"
Without waiting for her to react, he grabbed her sore arm, lifted her up and threw her face down over the log. The bark grinding into her injured breast created such immense pain that she hardly noticed when he sat astride the small of her back, pinning her to the log and facing her rump. He drew something from a jacket pocket.
"I whittled this here little item while I was chasing you down, Sweetmeat. It should help take your mind off your ankle."
She felt a hand spreading her ass cheeks and the point of a hard object pushed into the gaping anus. She looked back in time to see it was a wooden stick about eight inches long and two inches thick with slivers carved into the sides and pried outward like small wings, flanges to hold it in place. In the next moment the hunter hammered it into her with a hilt of his knife. She screamed. The added load of pain was too much, and she passed out.
He revived her with a dose of ammonia under her nose and grinned as he watched her thrash in the enveloping agony once again.
"Maybe you shoulda stayed with Taylor," her new captor taunted, " 'cause I ain't gonna treat you nice and gentle like he did." He grabbed her hair and hauled her to her feet. "Now you stay on your feet and walk or I'll ram a even bigger dildo up your fuckin' cunt!"
He yanked at the leash and Amelia stumbled forward behind him in a sea of torment. Each step not only brought stabs of pain from her ankle but searing pain from inside as the barbed wooden dowel scraped and lacerated her intestines. Blood ran down the inside of her legs. With any luck, she thought bitterly, I'll bleed to death here on the path.
After an eternity of hellish traveling, a wounded lamb being led to slaughter, they came to a small clearing where he brought her to a stop.
"Get on your back, jizzbucket!"
She gladly laid down. Anything to get off the ankle and stop moving around with that diabolical barbed rod gnashing at her insides!
Armed with more cord from his pack, the hunter bound each ankle to the upper thigh, relishing her screams as he tightened the cord around the swollen one. Fashioning two stakes from a sapling at the edge of the clearing, he drove them into the ground on either side of her neck, then pinned her neck to the ground with cord tied to the stakes.
He removed his boots and pants and knelt over her face, his cock hovering above her mouth. Once again her pressed the muzzle of the dart gun into her left nipple.
"You're going to lick and suck my dick and get it all wet and slippery so's I can have a nice comfy fuck in your tight little twat. If I so much as feel your teeth, I'll put a dart right into the pointy tip of your tit. And after that, right up your cum chute. Any doubts about that?"
She shook her head miserably.
"Then do it!"
He lowered his manhood slowly into her open mouth, his finger on the trigger. She used her lips and tongue to put as much saliva on it as possible, careful to keep her teeth from touching it. She could taste the residue of another woman and realized she was not his first rape victim today. No doubt she would not be his last. Nor would he be the last one to rape her .
He began to groan and move in response to the swirls of her tongue, pulling out abruptly to move around to the other end and force himself between her doubled-up legs. Without preamble he punched his laved penis into her vagina and began pounding brutally. If he was oblivious to the jagged-edged wooden dildo in her neighboring orifice, she was not! Once again pain screamed at her from inside her guts and blood began puddling under her bottom. She sobbed in agony as the hunter, with seemingly endless endurance, pummeled her vigorously, all the more aroused at her tears. Suddenly he pulled out and the cold barrel of the dart gun replaced his hot flesh.
"NO!" Amelia screamed. "PLEASE! I did what you asked! I was good! PLEASE DON'T!"
"Okay," the hunter said mildly, "I won't, if you do one more little thing for me." He poked the gun in harder.
"WHAT? WHAT? I'LL DO IT!"
"Keep your eyes open while I cream your face. One blink and a dart goes up your cunt."
"YES, YES, YES, I'll do it!"
He left the gun barrel in her birth canal as he positioned himself over her neck and began masturbating. Within seconds a fountain of white semen pulsed out of his purple-headed cock and splashed into Amelia's wide open eyes. Despite her determination, she did, of course, blink. She managed to force her trembling lids to stay open despite the terrible burning of the semen, but that first blink had been involuntary. When the hunter had enjoyed the last aftershock of his orgasm and wrung the last drop of cum over his captive's face, he smiled ruefully down.
"Not a bad try, candycunt, but you did blink. I warned ya!" He reached back.
"NO NO NO!"
But he did. She felt the powerful recoil as the weapon fired its dart up the remaining inch of her vagina and a blistering explosion of pain as the needle punched deep into her womb, instantly unloading its venom. She screamed the entire two seconds that she remained conscious.
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